#BAMF reader

[smurphyse]

Hope and a Haircut | Spencer Reid

Smurph’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Chapter 18 of Operation: Sand Leopard

Warnings: canon typical stories, Christmas visits, crying, happy hugs, fear, espionage, confessions

Summary: Spencer gets worried the longer he doesn't hear from you, and then he gets unexpected visitors that only make him more anxious.

Spencer was growing more anxious by the day. You still hadn't called, and all the hubbub of the city around Christmas wasn't helping him either. He flinched at backfiring cars, his gaze laser focused on the things around him. His mind was still in Iraq, still with you and Alijah, sitting on mountainsides and looking through binoculars. 

He'd spent each day with the team, and Christmas morning finally arrived. JJ went down to Louisiana with Will and the kids, Rossi with his daughter and grandson. Even Luke and Penelope planned a getaway, so Spencer spent the day visiting his mom and then with Emily and Tara at a soup kitchen. 

His mother at least recognized him, but she spoke to him like he'd been visiting every day for months. He was both grateful and devastated by it. 

He felt good helping out, and they invited him over after, but he declined and instead made his way to his empty apartment. He knew you had a house outside the city, and he looked forward to spending time with you and the girls in the open air of Virginia. 

Spencer decided to make the walk from the soup kitchen. The brisk air chilled straight through his coat, which admittedly wasn't warm enough for a white Christmas. Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets and drove on as you'd say. The frigid air was just another thing to deal with until he got on the flight back to you. 

Cars slid through the slush on the streets, spraying his ankles with black and gray slurry. The lamplight gleamed every ten feet, flickering under the weight of the cold. Spencer angled his head down to avoid the freezing breeze, but his ears and eyes were hypersensitive to his surroundings in a way he hadn't felt before. 

This place was so different from Balad. It was almost like he'd never lived here before and had only seen it in pictures. Everything was so familiar but foreign at once. He was so out of place. 

Turning the corner, Spencer stopped short as he spotted a small group huddled outside his building. The spotlight in front of the badge access door hit the tops of their heads, casting them in shadow. He was about to walk past and take a turn around the block when one of them called out. 

"Doc!" Spencer recognized a familiar voice, and she sounded scared. 

"Peanut?"

Spencer made his way closer and sure enough, Garrett, Morello, Barretti, and Peanut were waiting for him. They didn't have their families with them, and the stiff way they held themselves sent a shiver of fear down his spine. 

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked solemnly. 

Garrett stepped forward, "Have you heard from the boss?"

Spencer shook his head, "No. She was supposed to call the night we got back."

An exchange of glances only solidified his worry, which up until now he'd chalked it up to you being busy. 

"We should talk someplace private," Morello decided, glancing around the tall windows that surrounded them. "We're too exposed."

Spencer agreed and ushered them up into his apartment. Even in their worry they were still curious about his living situation it seemed. Garrett went straight for his bookshelf, clutching his hands behind his back and eyeballing the spines in the lamplight. Morello stood in the doorway, watching them all protectively while Barretti plopped down on the couch like he owned the place. 

Peanut waved toward his hardly used kitchen even before he went halfway across the world, "Should I make some coffee?"

Spencer nodded and followed her in. It was pretty small and cramped, and admittedly coffee was one of the only food items he even had in the apartment. Spencer pulled out the container of grounds and handed it to her, and she went about filling up the carafe and filter. 

Leaning against the counter, Spencer listened anxiously as it percolated. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, which had become a habit after months in the desert when before he felt best shoving his hands in his pockets. He used to show anxiety as a shield, but now he chose to project strength like this. It was a strange turnaround for him, one JJ pointed out the night before, but it felt natural now. 

"Something's happening," Spencer asked, but it came out more like a statement. Peanut just watched the machine drip black gold into the pot, refusing to meet his gaze. She had her tight kinky curls down, when in Iraq they usually were pulled into a tight bun. They puffed out over her shoulders, impeded by the thick bulk of her coat, but her dark curls were beautiful in the dim lighting. 

"I'm hearing chatter I don't like," she replied quietly. "Something isn't right, but I can't figure out what."

Fear rotted in his gut like an acidic apple. The lining was slowly tearing away from itself, and his legs wobbled beneath him. Surely, the floor would soon open up to swallow him whole. 

Spencer opted to pull out some mugs instead of falling into his terror. He didn't like not knowing what was going on, but he trusted you to lead… the only problem was that you weren't here to do so. 

Peanut took two of them in her small hands, and he grabbed the rest by the handles and followed her out into the living room. When he got there, he nearly dropped them at the sight before him. 

Barretti was standing on his couch, pulling open the light fixture on the ceiling. Morello was elbow deep in his old school record player, digging down in the horn. Garrett was sifting through the bookshelf, pulling out books and setting them gently on the ground, then searching the empty spaces. 

"What the he-," he began, but Peanut waved a coffee up in front of him to stop him. The liquid sloshed over the rim, barely missing his chest before splattering on the hardwood. 

The guys didn't even look, and Spencer stood in shock as Peanut held that cup in front of him until they were done. Spencer watched with his jaw dropped as they put everything back in its place, and only then Morello turned on the old record player. 

"Let's play some music, yeah?" he said confidently, but his jaw was clenched tight. "I haven't had a chill night in a long time."

The player had a bluetooth option, as it only looked old. Emily got it for him, though he had suspected it was only so she had a chance to play music other than classical when they all came over now and then. A familiar song from his first trip outside the wire came on as Morello took out his phone. 

He set it on the desk the turntable was on,  and one by one they all set theirs next to his. Without much thought, Spencer handed Garrett a coffee mug and put his phone down too, then gave Morello the other. Peanut gave her second one to Barretti, and they moved silently to the center of the room and sat on the rug. 

"If there's a fire in your kitchen. And when your roof just won't stop leaking," it played, not quite loud enough to bother the neighbors, but higher than he would have normally put it with company. "I got your back without you even asking. If I gotta whoop somebody's ass, I'ma do it with passion."

Huddled in the circle, speaking just under the volume of the music, Garrett leaned in close, "Boss hasn't called all week, and she's not answering any form of communication. She's gone radio silent."

"That's why we were looking for bugs," Morello said, nodding. He looked straight at Spencer. "She always calls on liberty and checks in. She wouldn't stop otherwise unless she was dead or incapacitated."

Spencer's heart dropped down in his stomach. If something happened to you, who was protecting Alijah? If something happened to the both of you, how was he expected to go on?

"I got wind from Agent Garber that there's been some chatter about Sayeed, that he's been spotted where we found Alijah six months ago," Peanut continued as Spencer clutched his coffee cup tightly. The heat grounded him, but he was sure to disappear into nothing soon enough. 

He rarely saw his CHUmate, but remembering that he worked in the satellite tents it made sense that he'd hear word of one of the biggest heroin distributors in the Middle East. 

“An emergency, or when you just can't sleep, and I'll slide through for ya with that urgency,” Teddy Swims came through around them. As sweet as the song was, a solid blanket of dread covered the room.

“Then we get on the next flight and go back early,” Spencer offered, but Garrett shook his head. 

“No communication means someone is listening in and watching. If we go back early it might tip them off that something’s going on. Boss is sending a message.”

“Yeah, to be careful,” Barretti grumbled. He frowned down at his big hands. “We just have to follow her lead. She spent years in MARSOC, doing all sorts of clandestine shit. She knows something we don’t.”

“We can’t just sit here,” Spencer insisted, waving a hand. “Not if she needs our help.”

“Morning after next we’ll go to Anacostia and head back to Iraq, doc,” Garrett told him firmly. “We can’t go before our leave ends unless we receive orders.”

“I’m an agent! I can go back whene-,” he began, but was overruled with a flat palm facing him. 

“Boss will tell us what to do when we get there. She’s got more answers than we do right now. You could set something worse in motion by making a move.”

“Aren’t you worried at all? She’s not a military robot. She can’t do it all by herself.”

Garrett sighed and flashed Morello a look, who shrugged. He turned back to Spencer, “Of course I’m worried, doc. I worked with Teddy before he died, and he got real paranoid towards the end. I didn’t know much about what he was working on but when Y/N asked for my team’s help I agreed because even though Teddy started to lose it, I knew he had a good reason.”

He sighed again and scrubbed his face with his hand, dragging it down his chin. “This mission is bigger than just the girl and the heroin. The person we’re looking for has hooks in places we probably don’t know about. We don’t make a move without her say-so.

“You gotta remember, doc,” he finished, giving him a knowing look. “The boss always knows more than we do. You have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

Spencer nodded in defeat. He was right. You always knew more than you let on, and he suddenly got a sneaking suspicion that even before this there were things you hadn’t told him. Was it because you didn’t trust him? Or had you existed like this for so long that you didn’t know any other way to be?

He just hoped Garrett was right. 

He hoped you had a plan. 

Spencer sat in JJ’s bathroom the day after Christmas. She’d nearly force-fed him leftovers and dessert for dinner, then dragged him in here by the wrist. Spencer put up a good front for Will and Henry and Michael, chatting and pretending to be interested in the things his godsons were talking about, but his mind never left you.

JJ draped the little cape she’d bought just for him years ago when he first asked her to cut his hair over his shoulders. She tightened it and went about wetting his hair and combing through it.

“I can’t believe how long you’ve let this get,” she exclaimed as she raked a brush through it. Thank god she never had daughters, because this was torture. Spencer tried not to wince each time she caught his roots, since she did give him good cuts… besides the time Hotch asked if he joined a boy band. That was the last time he ever gave her free reign over styles.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally. Instead, he fiddled with some army man toy Michael had left on the sink. It pointed a nondescript gun out, legs akimbo in a wide stance as he prepared for danger.

“Michael’s been taking those everywhere with him,” JJ went on as he turned the green piece of plastic in his fingers. “He tells everyone how his uncle Spencer is a hero.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Spencer mumbled, frowning to himself. “It’s like saying what we did at the BAU was heroic… it wasn’t. It was just bloody and sad.”

JJ stilled, her hands freezing mid-air. Her blue eyes blazed as she watched him in the mirror, “Then why the hell are you going back?”

“Because… There’s a future there that isn’t a black hole of loneliness and murder,” he decided, and her jaw clenched tightly.

“You’re going back to Iraq for a girl?” she pressed, getting angrier. “Spencer, I know you’ve always been a romantic but that’s fucking insane.”

“It’s not just that,” he replied calmly. 

“Then what?”

Spencer sighed, his eyes meeting hers. He was so tired all of a sudden, weighed down with the enormity of the possibility of loss that could come tomorrow. “I have hope. Honestly, I haven’t had that in such a long time, JJ. I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep searching for that final happiness. Y/N is a lot of things…”

“She’s mean and crazy. She charges headfirst into every door without caring that something on the other side would hurt her. She’s only focused on protecting those behind her. She’s not known for telling you everything, and I’m trying to be okay with that because for once, someone knows a lot more than I do. She leads, she protects, she cares. Most of all, she’s kind. Even when she’s mean, she’s kind. She only pushes as much as you can take.”

“She sounds like Hotch,” JJ muttered, and when Spencer stared at her wide-eyed, she burst into a laughter he couldn’t help but join in on. 

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me!” he guffawed with her. They laughed until their bellies hurt and JJ had to sit down on the tub edge to hold herself upright. 

After it died down, she looked at him with a spark of joy, “I really hope it all works out. I just worry about you. You’ve changed so much in the twenty years I’ve known you, and you always came out the other side somehow. I just want you to come back, even if you’re different, I just want you to love the life you live.”

Spencer reached out a hand and she took it, squeezing him tightly. “I’m learning a lot about myself. Sometimes… you just gotta suck it up and drive on. The only way through it is to get through it.”

“You seem so different again,” JJ whispered, her eyes filling with tears he wasn’t sure were happy or sad. “But… not like you’re broken. You seem more confident, not like after prison when you were so angry. You seem like you know what you’re capable of.”

She made a face, “Does that make sense?”

Pride filled his heart and he nodded, “I think I finally know why I went through everything that I did. I can’t talk much about it, but I really think that I’m about to get everything I ever wanted.”

JJ smiled. Spencer smiled back. 

“Hope looks good on you, Spence.”

You hadn't really slept in days. It was Christmas, five days after Spencer and the unit left for America. The stress of what you were about to do was eating you alive, and each time you managed a nap you woke up in a panic. 

You were being listened to. After Mercer's confession that he'd found bugs in your office, you tore the whole thing apart in near silence until you found three more than he had. You went through your CHU, found two more. One under your bed and one in your bookshelf. You searched Spencer's next, but surprisingly found nothing. The rest of the unit's bunks were clear too. 

You were starting to feel as paranoid as Teddy sounded before he died. He sent you his coded words but they were filled with veiled messages, as if someone besides you and him were reading. You had nobody to talk to besides Mercer, and even then you kept him at arm's length. You didn't trust him, but still he was the only one who knew of your plan. Even the unit wouldn't know until after, and you still might never tell them what you were going to do. 

Spencer and the unit were all the way in America. They wouldn't be coming home for two more days, so you were sending Mercer to meet them. Alijah had thankfully been hidden enough through false paperwork that there were no bugs in her room. It seemed you had become the mole's target. 

Without Spencer, you couldn't enact your plan. You had to explain to Alijah many times why, and eventually she agreed and understood. You needed him here to stay behind and keep her safe while you went after Sivan and Sayeed. 

You didn't destroy the bugs in your office. You told Mercer to go on doing so, to keep acting like he was struggling with himself. It would make those watching think everything was going according to their plan. So, you kept the bugs, and here you and Mercer sat in your office, going over the FRAGO for the day out loud and writing notes to one another. 

You lounged on one of the old metal chairs, your heavy boots set on the table. You tried to sound dreadfully bored and irritated, "There's been a few scuffles in the nearby villages, but we can't go out without the rest of the team since your dumb ass let your guys go home for Christmas."

You quietly slid a paper his way. You didn't put your pen down, and you wrote slowly to drown out the sounds the best you could. 

Is everything ready?

Mercer nodded, but he leaned back and let out an angry harrump for the ears listening in. "I thought you'd have your lackies around. I only gave my guys what was coming to them. Your stupid fucking team hasn't done shit all year."

All you needed was for your team to come back, then you were going outside the wire to kill Sayeed al Hafiz. Mercer was going to make sure that happened.

"Fuck you," you spat. 

"Fuck yourself," Mercer snapped back in reply. He got angrily to his feet and stomped out of the trailer, slamming the door behind him for good measure. 

Let them think you still hated him. You didn't trust him, but you were coming around on him after Hitchens died. That didn't mean you hadn't fought in the last two months. He was still an asshole. 

Everything was going according to plan… so far. You had to remind yourself that this could all fall apart. You could die on the twenty eighth of December of this year. Sivan might not make it if you didn't succeed. 

But you had a backup plan. 

You always did. 

Spencer was the first to arrive at Anacostia on December 27th. He’d said his goodbyes to the team and their families the day after Christmas, teary eyed and filled with dread. They clung to him like he wouldn’t come back alive, and even if he didn’t Spencer knew he had to get back to Iraq. 

You needed him. 

You were all alone out there protecting Alijah. Sayeed was hiding in the desert, waiting to strike. You had no one to back you up and he knew he needed to be by your side. Even if it all ended in flames, Spencer would be with you and the girls and the unit until the very end. He wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Spencer had no idea what he was walking into once he stepped foot back on base. His mind conjured images of firefights and explosions, a dramatic entrance to the scariest day of his life. The ground would thunder and the sky would alight with red washes of fear and smoke. But he would find you. He always would. 

He walked through the dark hangar at 0500, much like he had four months earlier, clutching his pack and fighting the urge to sit down and melt into the concrete. Shadows lurked as he approached. Spencer took a deep breath, adjusted the pack on his shoulder and made his way toward the plane. 

It was such a strange familiarity. The Antonov An-178 transport plane loomed ominously above him, blanketing him in darkness as its shadow cast over him from the lamplight. He left America for the first time in August. Now it was almost January, and the cool shadow under the plane was ice cold. 

He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Captain Mercer leaning against the frame of the walkway into the belly of the plane. His arms crossed over his big barrel chest, a confident smirk washing over his weathered face as he saw Spencer with his mouth agape. 

“No cryin’ on my plane, boy,” he drawled like he had what felt like years ago. 

“What are you doing here?” Spencer seethed as a sudden rage overtook him. He didn’t exactly trust Mercer, but if he was in America who was with you and Alijah? 

Spencer was about to stomp his way up the ramp but Mercer sauntered down. He seemed far too jolly until he reached the bottom, where he pulled Spencer by the arm a bit away from the plane. 

“I know you don’t like me, and you’ve got every reason not to,” Mercer whispered as he and Spencer huddled close. “But I’m in this until the end. I know you know about Ted.”

Spencer managed a silent slight nod, so he continued. “He was a good guy, and I’ve never really managed to be anywhere as good a man as he was. I’m trying. The boss sent me here to make sure you all made it on the plane.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Spencer asked softly. Mercer’s eyes told him what he meant before he even opened his mouth. The fact that he called you ‘boss’ when a few months ago he used another choice word somehow made him more worried than ever.

“Accidents happen,” he grumbled ominously. “Brakes go out, carbon monoxide detectors stop working… sometimes transport planes blow up midair due to mechanical failure.”

He knew something then that you never told him. Teddy’s death wasn’t an accident, or at least you didn’t believe it was. The plane crash was an assassination, and you weren’t going to let it happen to the unit if you had any power to stop it. You didn’t trust Mercer enough to stay behind with Alijah, but your faith was enough to send him to keep them safe over the ocean.

It made his heart weary. Were you just growing paranoid as Teddy had? Were you justified in your worries? What the hell was about to happen?

What the hell were you planning?

Notes: Y'all ain't ready for the end of Part 1 of this story... Shit is about to go DOWN

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[nimko]

Love at first flight

Rook x yuu scenario thats rotting my brain. I'm not even a writer I just- ugh- rook he's- 😔.

Yuu is athletic (parkour) , gen-z type of humor, and keeps knives on their person (not some deep or plot reason just loves collecting unique knives as a hobby) and for this to work the ceremony is held upstairs and the door was blocked after grims shenanigans 😭

tw: Rook Hunt

Yuu that goes to Twst panics after meeting grim cus what the hell is this. relaxing thinking they're dreaming during the whole magic mirror part cus magic doesn't exist whhaaaaat. panicking again when they feel pain (after grim makes a mess)

When it kicks in that "this is real" and that fight or flight activates Yuu does a 180 from laughing at Crowley's... just Crowley and the blue eared pokemon to carefully tossing up debris like a skateboard, throw it to break a window, running up the seats and using their jacket to get over the glass and slide down the wall and run into the forest, cus realistically speaking if I woke up in a eerie room full of floating coffins and people in creepy robes in the middle of some cult like initiation, idea number 1 is attempting murdered. Idea 2 is running as far as possible if the potential enemy is armed as well, and 3rd idea is suicide on the spot. 2 was the one that was hottest one that ended in success; for now Cus guess who just fell in love?

Rook did. That "who's that pokemon" thing you keep saying bewildered him but you seem to be teasing the monster. how laid back you were despite all that chaos and even calling riddles coller kinky out loud. My my, you were brave and intriguing but what's this? Suddenly your scanning the room almost like a hunter yourself scanning roi de loins teeth, watching roi de roses staff, anything and anyone he was wary of, you were wary of. the jacket you took back and you laid at your arm (you had lent it to Kalim earlier to put out the fire on his behind) and now you're calm looking at the floor, perhaps he'll observe the others. he lets his eyes off you for a few seconds and in those second he hears the glass shatter, and he looks at you to see you flying towards the window, he's surprised. you lay down the jacket so you don't get cut but you still get a small cut and the blood soaks your shirt, he's interested. You jump and hook your hoodie to a nearby ledge and make your way down carefully and run into the forest, he's infatuated.

He'll volunteer to hu- I mean bring you back safely. you put up a good fight with your blades even attempting to put one to his neck. You may be able to run through any terrain but he can tell you're not a fighter, (and that collar isn't helping) he has you pinned down in a flash it's exciting to see you try and fight him, he's a little bit disappointed when you become still but he leans down to get a better look at those eyes. so full of fire, were you upset he caught you? How cute; or so he thought.

He really wasn't expecting you to headbutt him, both of you let out a groan in pain (he found it amusing that you seem in more pain then him despite how you tricked him) but you make sure to use that moment he loosens his grip to make a run for it. You just kept surprising him, he knows you don't have magic and you're not particularly intimidating as compared to himself, but you're a quick thinker and fast on your feet and creative. coming up with ways to get what you want, he loves it and he won't underestimate you again. he was looking forward to the chase, to see more of your ingenuity, to see that beautiful fire again. Pity the head mage caught you first. you kept fighting in vain until one of the professors came over to calm you down.

He liked it better when you were running and fighting your breath bated, the smell of your blood underneath him... Oh, this encounter seemed to have quite the effect on him. he wishes he could watch you longer but he has some... vice house warden duties to attend to. until your next chase, his adorable little trickster.

I'm completely open to criticism but please be gentle, like I said I'm not a writer just a reader.

[funny-bat-fruitloop]

I'm making a Vlad/Reader for the depraved, except I'm doing this to practice realistic relationships while keeping the humor and dialogue as close to canon as possible. . Chapter 1 has been released, I'm planning to add more. posting fanfic here as well.

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

You were the outsider of your college group. Maddie studied biochemistry, her and Jack both studied mechanical engineering together, Vlad studied both alongside Maddie, and you? You simply studied computer science.

Sure, you later studied robotics and delved more into artificial intelligence, but at the time you were falling behind the trio. What makes matters worse is that you were in love with Vlad. He was too busy being in love with Maddie. Maddie and Jack were too busy with their Science.

You used to be closer during your first years. Then you drifted apart from the group.

Or the group drifted apart from you. But you phrased it the other way to feel better about yourself.

At least Maddie was nice. But it turned out that Maddie had a crush on you. You softly turned her down and told her you did not swing that way. She understood, and Vlad was elated that she stopped focusing on you.

She was surprisingly supportive, though, so she starts being more casual with her physical affections—she leaned against you and gave you hugs, at most, but never kisses of any type. Vlad glared at you every time.

You couldn’t handle Vlad’s glare towards you. You just couldn’t. You were so madly in love with him.

This wasn’t what you wanted for college. You wanted to thrive with less drama, not thrive in the drama of a love square. So you decided to turn it into a love triangle.

How? With distance.

You start making excuses about why you couldn’t hang out with them anymore. Maddie seemed pretty sad that you were becoming distant, and urged you to hang out with them more. Jack gave you puppy eyes, because it turns out that he enjoyed your dry wit and casual gifts—both clothing and food that you made.

Vlad looked...conflicted. As if as he did not know what to do with the slowly growing empty space. Every look he gave you after the start of you leaving seemed like he was having conflicts inside his mind.

But he did nothing. So you continued on with your life.

That was the start of your isolation.

You were pretty depressed now that you did not have anyone to accompany you. For the first few months of your departure from the group, people did not bother to include you in their friend groups due to your relationship with the “resident weirdos”.

You got into a robotics class and was forced to group with 2 other nerds, Gabin and Feen. It turns out, they were gay too. Dating, even.

Then the three of you started becoming closer in a platonic way. You were included in every conversation, arguments, and acted as a mediator for their spats which end up being resolved amongst the three of you.

Until the couple mutually broke up. You were devastated at the news, but it turns out all three of you were better as friends. Gabin turned out to be Bi and married a tall country Bisexual girl, and Feen turned out to be poly and married a few other people.

Even when the friend group grew larger, the three of you kept each other on your toes as you challenged each other to make robots. At some point, you made a lion-sized guard dog that read any sort of unique identification, like a treasured object, and chased intruders out of your home.

You gave this machine to a marketing professor as a joke. It ended up saving his life, which you did not intend to do at all (the machine dog was purposefully made with weak scraps for a chance for the victim to escape, in case it went haywire.) He was so grateful that he got you hired into a major tech company—Wayne Enterprises.

You got an award for it. Something close to a Nobel Prize. You’re pretty sure you were dragged out of the house with a blindfold, and were dropped onto the stage to receive the award. Or maybe you had too much coffee and dissociated the entire time.

Who knows. Photos of you taking your award in smudged eyeliner with a baffled expression became viral years down the line.

Gabin’s girlfriend also went out of the way to teach you “spellcraft”, which you thought was cool. She said that she could sense your “powerful bloodline”, and you entertained her by learning the basics.

You thought it was fun. Until a forced family reunion made you realize that Gabin’s girlfriend was absolutely not joking. Not fun.

Then it was your last year of college. You were forced to take a semester off due to the consequences of that disastrous family reunion. That year, you were having the time of your life while suffering with your thesis and OJT’s.

You almost missed the news of Vlad’s unfortunate accident. When you heard about what happened, your heart dropped to your feet.

Yes, you were trying to get over Vlad, but he did not deserve to almost die. You tried to visit him in the hospital but the nurses pushed you away. He needed something, anything, even if it is just to cheer him up.

You left some tupperware full of menudo and coconut milk pumpkin soup for the nurses to feed him. Nobody bothered to tell you that he left the hospital. He probably did not know that you cooked a large meal for him.

So you continued on with your life. You tried to reach Vlad a few times when you saw him back on the campus hallways, but he seemed too focused on...something. You did not want to bother him.

Life went on, and you managed to graduate in time. For your next couple of years, you worked as a robotics engineer for some more companies. Then you started a company with your friends several years down the line. You sold some patents, kept some patents, and you lived a comfortable life with enough money to support yourself, your needs, and your leisures.

You never got into a relationship, because you never tried. You were too afraid to be hurt.

Vlad Masters simply became Masters. He swindled, scammed, and stole with his newfound powers to become a billionaire. He’s seen some of your inventions sometimes, but what you made never really interested him.

Or rather, he was still conflicted at the thought of you.

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

You were dared by one of your socialite friends to post photos of your outfit before your flight to Illinois, and announce your arrival on your barely active social media. You’ve always loved the gothic aesthetic and mastered your outfits throughout the years—though you slowly shifted your outfits to be more modern while retaining the aesthetic.

For some god damned reason, you got a somewhat larger following than you thought—more than 10,000 people were interested in your life. You mostly posted your projects, but your outfits got more attention.

The youth kept calling you “DILF” along with other unholy comments, no matter how much you tried to discourage them. They seemed to flock to your socmed ever since that photo of you receiving your awards became viral. They also kept calling you “pookie bear”, whatever that meant.

You tried to restrict comments, but a few of your friends kept disabling the restrictions. They enjoyed your suffering.

You were beyond your 40’s, sipping a cappuccino as you left the airport while holding your luggage in the other hand. Suddenly, a notification popped up in your phone. The sound from your phone indicated that it was a text message, and not another weird ass comment that required you to say “aren’t you disappointing your parents with these DILF comments?”

Your leg hooked around your luggage as you pick your phone up from your pants with one hand. It’s a message from...Jack Fenton?

0xxx-xxxx-xxxx: Hey Bucko! Remember me? Jack Fenton? Heard you were in Illinois! Do you mind meeting at our place in Amity Park and meet Maddie and I like old times? :-D

Oh shit. It’s your old college friends.

You cringed a little as you remembered the way you ghosted the first two people who were decent towards you. Sure, you had your reasons, but it wasn’t fair to them. You checked the rest of your schedule on your phone and find that you still have free time to spare. A quick google search about the town, and you found that your convention is just at the town next to Amity.

So you made your decision and decided to make this up, let bygones be bygones.

You: Sure! Give me the address and I’ll meet you there!

[constantcrisis19]

Stay With Me - Part 2

Daryl Dixon x GN S/O

Word Count: 2,678

Part 1

You picked up on the first hint that something was wrong when you realized how unnaturally quiet it was. There were no animals, no wind, just the sound of your light footsteps and measured breaths as you walked.

In the short span between breaths, you were able to pick up on the faint patter of footsteps along with the occasional squeak of a car door behind you as the rest of the group followed from a careful distance.

And, while most people would undoubtedly feel a little put out by essentially being used as bait, you didn't mind much since it made for a pretty effective alarm system. 

If Daryl was attacked or ran across a herd of Walkers that you wouldn't be able to handle without heavy losses, he'd whistle a specific tune just loud enough for you to hear without gaining unwanted attention. You'd then proceed to double back in order to relay the situation to the group, allowing you to change tactics or retreat, avoiding a potentially deadly confrontation.

All in all, it worked pretty smoothly and usually kept the lot of you from getting into too much trouble.

Shaking yourself out of your distracting thoughts, you refocused your attention onto the mission at hand, your gaze unconsciously seeking out Daryl's familiar form among the plethora of cars laying about. 

It didn't take you long to spot Daryl, the man effortlessly weaving through the cars ahead of you, but your eyes quickly zeroed in on his tight shoulders and twitching fingers, his head swiveling around as he obsessively scanned his surroundings.

His blatant paranoia made you equally as uneasy about the situation, your eyes darting around as you crept through the maze-like environment, your determined pace faltering when your gaze stuttered to a halt on a particular truck to your right. 

There were several circular gouges in the driver's side door, the metal warped inward like it had been punctured by some sort of projectile.

Right as the realization of what was about to happen hit you, you caught a glimpse of movement out of your peripheral vision and your attention was drawn toward the rundown bus that was parked further ahead, your eyes widening when the barrel of a rifle poked out from one of the blown out windows. 

Daryl must've noticed it too because a shrill whistle of warning pierced the air for a few seconds before it was drowned out by a deafening cacophony of gunfire.

You dove behind a car as the group began to return fire, flinching when you heard Daryl let out a choked off shout, your heart rate picking up at the pained sound. Several different thoughts flashed through the forefront of my mind in rapid fire. Had he been hit? Was it lethal? 

Despite the fact that it was a terrible idea, you quickly poked your head out from behind the car and only briefly got a look at Daryl's position before a bullet hit the bumper next to your face, sending off sparks and forcing you to duck back behind cover.

Daryl had thankfully managed to put a vehicle between himself and the shooters but, by the trail of crimson that streaked the dirt by his feet, it was obvious that he hadn't made it unscathed.

As it was, Daryl was currently injured and pinned down in an area that was far too open for anyone to safely reach him, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

You were the closest to his position and, since there was no time to wait for the rest of the group to advance when Daryl could potentially have a life-threatening wound, you took it upon yourself to go and assist him.

You took a deep breath, ignoring Rick's loud demands for you to stay put, before darting out from behind cover, the telltale spray of bullets immediately ripping up the ground around you as you ran. 

You made sure to keep your trajectory unpredictable as you closed the distance between yourself and Daryl, not even pausing your mad dash when a stray bullet got lucky and grazed your shoulder.

You dropped to your knees once you were in range, your hair lightly shifting with how close a bullet came to your head, before you slid in next to Daryl. You ground your teeth together when your right shoulder collided with the side of the truck, the machine barely even rocking as it violently halted your momentum. 

You allowed yourself a moment to recover, breathing through the sharp pain that raced down your arm before pushing the ache aside in order to focus on Daryl, who had curled himself around the leg that he had drawn up against his body.

He let out a raspy chuckle at your explosive arrival before groaning as you pried his hand away from his foot, a pulse of blood immediately wetting the already sticky dirt beneath his boot. 

You murmured reassuring nonsense under your breath as you untied his laces, the sharp sound of bullets ricocheting off metal ringing in your ears as you carefully coaxed the filthy leather boot off before setting the ruined footwear and his thick, stained sock aside. 

And, just by looking at the oozing hole in the top of his foot, you knew that this wasn't an injury that Daryl was going to be able to just walk off.

leaned forward and reached around the man to his back pocket, pulling out his bandana in order to meticulously fold up the faded red material and firmly press it against the weeping wound, causing Daryl to tense up with a curse at the painful pressure. 

You only looked up from your task when you felt familiar, shaky fingers gently brush the edge of the rip in your shirt on your shoulder, carefully feeling at the edge of the gash the bullet had left in its wake.

You let Daryl distract himself by fussing over your own -less pressing- injury and focused on mentally sussing out how to go about getting the bullet out without causing any further damage. 

You were lost in your racing thoughts when a man rounded the side of the vehicle that the two of you were hiding behind, shotgun swinging around to aim right at you, your eyes widening as the man's finger began to descend on the trigger.

“Oh shit.” You hissed moments before there was an ear-splitting bang, the deafening sound making your stomach roll and your ears ring, the man who had just been standing menacingly above you abruptly crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut. 

You stared uncomprehendingly at the body before Daryl's outstretched arm dropped, bringing the gun he had clutched in a white knuckle grip into clear view. 

You choked down a hysterical laugh and brought your gaze back to his foot, breathing a sigh of relief when you lifted the soaked bandana and noted that the blood finally began clotting.

Thankfully, it didn't take too much longer for the gunshots to die down before ceasing entirely, and you tensed when you heard fast footfalls rush up behind you, but -when you glanced up at Daryl- he didn't bother to lift his gun, so you concluded that it must have been one of yours that was approaching. 

Then Carol's concerned voice reached you and you just barely managed to bite back the impulse to tell her to fuck off as the woman immediately kneeled down next to you, jostling your injured shoulder along the way.

You abruptly jerked away from her and grit your teeth against the guttural sound that wanted to come out of you at the fire that ripped through your nervous system, the woman rudely moving into the empty space that you had involuntarily made until you were forced to your feet lest you be trampled by the overeager woman.

You stiffly stepped away from Carol as she began to examine Daryl's foot, tutting softly before ordering the rest of the lingering group to gather the things that she needed. An ugly emotion reared its head as you watched Maggie hand the other woman a bottle of water and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey from her bag.

You knew rationally that Carol was easily the most qualified to deal with injuries due to her previous training under Hershel during the group’s stay at the prison, but a traitorous little voice in the back of your head told you that she wouldn't have been nearly as considerate if the person injured was anybody other than Daryl.

You took another step away before turning on your heel and making your way to a more secluded spot while the others were distracted. Once you were a good distance away, you carefully stripped off your shirt with a hiss, the fabric tugging at the dried blood caked around the graze. 

You left the tank top that you had on underneath alone and turned your focus onto inspecting your aching shoulders, prodding at the blooming mess of purples and blacks that made up the majority of your right shoulder, the intense bruising a direct result of your frantic collision with the truck. 

After deeming that nothing was broken or out of alignment, you moved on to your left, turning your head to frown at the long, shallow gash spanning across your shoulder and the rivulets of drying blood spanning all the way down to your elbow.

“Need some assistance with that?” A voice suddenly sounded from behind you and you startled before turning to scowl at Rick. The man was standing a few feet away, staring at you with a frustrating mix of understanding and concern in his expressive eyes.

You tilted your head back in order to look up at the infinite sky, asking for strength because you were already resigned to the fact that you weren't going to be able to convince Rick to leave you so you could take care of things by yourself, before waving the man over with an irritated huff. 

Rick wasted no time pulling some water and a small bottle of vodka out of the backpack that he had with him, along with bandages and some tape.

You sat still as Rick began working on your left shoulder, washing the blood away with the water and a clean rag, his touches gentle but purposeful. He had just finished flushing the wound and was wrapping the pristine bandages around your chest and shoulder when he spoke. 

“Daryl asked me to come find you since he’s unable to do it himself at the moment.” He said and you let the sentence hang in the air between the two of you as you waited to see if Rick was going to elaborate, but when he didn't, you were forced to respond.

“Why would he do that?” You asked as Rick tied off the bandage. 

“The same reason that he always does.” He declared, giving you a knowing grin. You shot him an incredulous look for his vague reply and scoffed before collecting your shirt and pulling it back on, careful to not disturb the fresh wrappings. 

Rick didn't seem to be at all offended by your reaction to his cryptic words, if anything the man looked amused, his eyes glittering with some emotion that you couldn't decipher as he watched you.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Rick said softly and you paused in the middle of putting all the supplies Rick had used to treat your shoulder neatly back into his worn bag, hesitating with the now empty bottle of vodka in hand before turning to look over at the man.

“Know what?” You asked warily as you pushed to your full height, unsure of whether or not you wanted to encourage this line of conversation. 

“That man is gone on you.” He continued with a gentle smile, as if trying to cushion the blow of his statement, and you blinked at him uncomprehendingly, wondering if the injury that you had acquired was worse off than you initially thought and the blood loss was causing you to hallucinate this entire interaction. 

“Who? Daryl? We’re just friends.” You stated, exuding confusion in every line of your body as your brows furrowed, the feeling of being utterly lost only growing as you watched Rick give a long-suffering sigh and shook his head in exasperation. 

Sure, you could admit that you and Daryl hung out a lot, but that didn’t mean that the man had a crush on you… right? He never gave any indication that he was interested in you romantically since -when you were together- you just talked about chores, supply runs and whatnot, all topics that you thought were pretty casual.

“Carol is Daryl’s friend, and he’s close with both Maggie and Tara, but is he as tactile with them as he is with you? Does he spend more time with them or seek them out for company or go to them when he’s having a bad day or can’t sleep?” Rick asked in rapid fire, causing your head to spin with all the things that he was pointing out, things that you had previously believed weren’t exclusive to just you.

“I- He sleeps better when he’s not alone.” You argued weakly and Rick gave you a sharp look that had you shutting your mouth with an audible click before you could say anything else.

“And the fact that you’re the only person to know such intimate details about him doesn’t strike you as something special?” Rick pointed out kindly and you could feel your resolve begin to crumble under his logical reasoning. 

You pried your gaze away from Rick and stared down at your dusty boots, thinking back on all the nights that Daryl would wake you up by climbing into the bunk with you at the prison.

Neither of you ever spoke whenever it happened, instead you would silently shift over to give him room when the thin mattress dipped under his weight, rolling over to face the man as Daryl settled down under the blankets next to you.

He would lift his arm and allow you to curl closer, pressing up against the side of his trembling body, your head resting against the space between his chest and shoulder, his heartbeat hummingbird fast under your ear as you lightly brushed your fingers up and down his arm to help ground him. 

You would lay there wide awake until the shaking subsided, his heartbeat evening out as his breathing slowed with sleep, the worry you felt every time he came to you so distressed easing as his soft exhales puffed out over your head, gently ruffling your hair.

You always felt better knowing that he was near you, that he trusted you enough to allow you to see him so vulnerable. 

“Holy shit.” You breathed as it all clicked, your wide-eyed gaze snapping up to Rick’s face at the sudden realization before you began to restlessly pace, all your interactions with Daryl taking on a different meaning as you saw everything in a new light. 

All the moments he would bring you gifts or show interest in the things you were passionate about or how he’d give you his full attention when you’d talk about your family and the life you had before the apocalypse took everything from you. 

The way he would remember little details from the various long-winded rants you’d go on or how it felt when he pulled you into a tight, reassuring hug.

“Glad I could help.” Rick said with a pleased grin as he watched you march back and forth across the hard dirt, that mirthful twinkle he always got in his eyes every time he saw you and Daryl together finally making sense. 

Daryl was undoubtedly interested in being in a relationship with you and Rick had known all along, opting to watch the two of you dance around each other for far too long before finally breaking and stepping in, the smug bastard.

[sailorstar9]

My Husband Has A Female Childhood Friend, And Their Relationship Is So Close They Sleep in the Same Bed

Warning: Anti-Diluc, Anti-Jean, angst, Modern AU

Diluc Ragnvindr has a female 'brother'. Their relationship was so close that they sleep in the same bed and share the same ice cream.

F/N had asked Diluc more than once to keep his distance, but he impatiently responded, “If something were to happen, it would have happened already. Can't you give us some trust?”

“Alright then.” F/N merely shrugged and turned around to find herself a male best friend.

Diluc once again stayed out all night with Jean Gunnhildr, returning at noon the next day and bringing Calla Lily Seafood Soup from Good Hunter.

Seeing F/N, he barely offered an explanation, “It's been a long time since we had a gathering and we drank a lot. So, we found a gaming hotel to sleep. But this time, we didn't share the same bed. I slept on the floor.” he emphasized that particular point. After all, they had a huge fight over that issue the last time.

F/N had accused Diluc of being married yet having no sense of boundaries, insisting on confronting Jean.

Jean is a girl who grew up playing with Diluc and his friends in the same neighbourhood. Although she is a girl, she has a carefree personality, treating everyone like a buddy.

F/N had seen more than once Jean sitting on the men's laps without any hesitation, joking and laughing, and even sharing the same wine glass without a care.

Initially, Diluc patiently explained. Then, he got annoyed and directly threw out a sentence, “If something were to happen, it would have happened already. You wouldn't even have married me.” and slammed the door as he left.

The ridiculous thing was, Diluc's other friends advised F/N: Jean grew up with us, she's just like that. Diluc sees her as a kid.

A kid? F/N snorted. Is twenty-five still considered a kid? She was so disgusted that she said if Diluc didn't know how to keep boundaries, they'd get divorced.

Since then, Diluc indeed kept a distance from Jean for a while, but the result was that Jean would deliberately make sarcastic comments in public. 'Sister-in-law, look. I'm not sitting next to Luc, right? Luc, you better not join for a second round, lest sister-in-law gets angry. Luc isn't the same Luc anymore. With a leash around his neck, I dare not get close.” she said all of these, always making sure F/N was present. Naturally, it created a subtle atmosphere.

Over time, F/N became known as someone petty, jealous and unreasonable.

F/N's relationship with Diluc also started to become distant and indifferent from that time.

F/N looked at the takeaway container in Diluc's hand. What used to be her favourite food now seemed tasteless.

Diluc noticed F/N's indifference, put the box on the table, walked over to hug her and spoke in a soft, coaxing tone, “Honey, didn't you always want to watch that movie? Today, I'm not going to the office. Let's go watch it together.”

That movie was something F/N had been looking forward to for a long time. When it was released, she invited Diluc. He said he was busy working on tabulating the company's end-of-month accounts. But a few days later, F/N saw Jean showing off movie tickets on her social media: two tickets. Although there were no faces in the posted picture, the hand with distinct knuckles and the wedding ring on the ring finger was unmistakeably Diluc's.

F/N smelled a faint scent of pear blossom on Diluc and coldly refused. “No need.” she continued to pack her luggage.

“F/N.” Diluc's voice held a hint of anger and grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Are you planning the runaway game again? I've already said that nothing happened between me and Jean.”

“I know.” F/N calmly pulled her hand back. “You two are just siblings.”

It seemed like he was choked on F/N's words. Diluc's face showed discomfort and he let go of F/N's hand.

“Then, what's your problem now?” Diluc frowned.

“I'm going on a business trip.” F/N answered.

Diluc's face turned even darker, staring at F/N for a long time, as if trying to find any trace of pretence. But there was nothing; F/N's reaction remained calm, because she no longer cared who he watched movies with, who he stayed out all night with, who he dated. It didn't matter anymore.

Seeing that F/N wasn't angry, Diluc became even angrier. He seems convinced that F/N was sulking and was determined to make amends. He took out his phone and and frantically searching for movie tickets.

F/N watched him anxiously search and finally, she couldn't help but softly reminding him that movie had already been taken down.

Diluc's fingers frozen on the screen.

In that moment, F/N saw a myriad of emotions flash across his face. The air was filled with silent tension.

As the food on the table grew colder bit by bit, F/N bent down to pack the last item into her suitcase and closed it.

After that day, Diluc suddenly became very enthusiastic towards F/N.

During the few days F/N was on a business trip, he would greet her regularly and ask repeatedly about her return time.

On the day of her return as she left the airport, F/N saw Diluc's car, a black Bugatti, parked by the roadside.

Seeing F/N, Diluc quickly got out of the car, walked over and took her suitcase.

But when they reached the car. F/N saw Jean in the passenger seat, lounging with her legs up and her head resting on the car window.

Seeing F/N, Jean smiled sweetly, “Sister-in-law, I'm just hitching a ride. I'll let you have the front seat in a bit.” she grinned cheekily, but not showing any intention of moving.

Diluc, having put away the luggage, saw F/N standing still and spoke somewhat uncomfortably, “She happened to be nearby, so I gave her a ride. She gets car sick, so I let her sit in the front for this part of the journey.”

In previous arguments, F/N had complained about Jean always taking the front seat during out trips.

Before before F/N could say anything, Jean had poked her head out of the window, her eyes twinkling as she responded, “Thank goodness Luc was nearby today. Otherwise, in that godforsaken place I live, I wouldn't even be able to get a taxi. Sister-in-law, if you don't believe me, there are chat logs in the group."

The chat group was created by their childhood friends from the same neighbourhood and F/N wasn't in it.

“Of course, if Luc had left me stranded, I would've tattled to our godparents.” Jean bragged, pretending to punch Diluc in the chest. Halfway through, she seemed to remember something, pulled back and blinked at F/N nervously, “Sister-in-law, I'm just used to this; there are no other intentions.”

Since the big fight with Diluc, Jean went from being completely unrestrained with her touchy-feely behaviour to pretending to be cautious. It seemed like F/N's nitpicking had made her deliberately keep her distance from Diluc. But if Jean really wanted to keep her distance, why did she soon start staying all night with them again; having private dates.

F/N could even sense the subtle challenge in Jean's eyes. In the past, such tricks would have infuriated her, but now, F/N was too tired to deal with it. Even when Diluc asked Jean to get out of the car, F/N simply waved it off and opened the back door. “It doesn't matter. I have a friend who's also heading our way. I'll sit in the back with him.”

“A friend?” Diluc echoed. “Where? Before he could react, someone called F/N's name.

Turning around, F/N's expression changed instantly; there, with broad shoulders and a slim waist and dressed elegantly, a handsome man dragging a suitcase hurried over. As soon as he stopped, he complained to F/N, “F/N, you left me behind. I just turned around to get my suitcase and you were gone.” the purple-eyed man then pitifully clung onto F/N's arm, whining, “I don't know anyone here. You have to take care of me.”

This scene left Diluc and Jean both stunned.

Soon, Diluc reacted and grabbed F/N, “This is the friend you mentioned?” his voice carrying displeasure as he stared at the man in front of him.

“Yes, I'm F/N's good friend.” Ayato responded. “Ayato.” and cheerfully shook hands with Diluc. After putting his luggage in the truck, he plopped into the back seat. “F/N, hop in.”

F/N got into the car but was stopped by Diluc, “Honey, it's not appropriate for men and women to sit together like that.”

F/N was puzzled, “Just friends.” and glanced at Jean out from the corner of her eye and rendering Diluc speechless.

Diluc entered the house with a dark expression.

F/N had just finished changing her shoes and stepped out of the entrance hall when she saw him sitting in the living room.

“What's your relationship with that guy?” Diluc demanded, stabbing a cherry tomato from his salad.

F/N looked at him, her tone calm, “A friend.”

“A friend?” Diluc spat. “A man over six feet tall is your friend? F/N, you went on this business trip with him; several days in a row, spending time with that man.” getting angrier, he kicked the suitcase hard.

“Business partners are either male or female.” F/N retorted, righting her suitcase up. “He has a good personality and we get along. What's wrong with being friends?”

“Of course there's a problem.” Diluc's jealousy reared up. “He is a man. How can a man be a friend like that?”

“Why?” F/N answered. “You can have a female 'brother', but I can't have a male friend?”

F/N watched as Diluc's faces flashed through a series of conflicting emotions: shock, frustration and resentment. Finally, he spat out with gritted teeth, “Jean is different. We grew up together. If something were to happen, it would have...”

“Ayato and I are different too.” F/N cut off Diluc's usual spiel. “Can't we trust each other?”

Diluc was at a loss and for the next few days, the couple gave the other the cold shoulder.

At the Ragnvindr weekly dinner, Crepus noticed the tension and the Ragnvindr family head subtly reminded Diluc that F/N had moved far away from her home to be with him.

After the dinner, Diluc stood at his family's mansion's gates and turned to F/N, “I...” before he could finish, someone threw an arm around his neck.

“Luc, you're finally back.” Jean squealed. “Let's hang out.” once again, shamelessly hanging onto Diluc. But this time, Diluc did not smile back as usual. Instead, he removed her hand and looked nervously at F/N.

Jean pouted, clicked her tongue and started making exaggerated expressions, “Oh, it's sister-in-law.” she took a deliberate step back and landing in the arms of a group of people who had been following.

“Diluc, you didn't even show up in the group chat.” one of Diluc's' friends stated. “If Jean hadn't seen you, we would've missed you. Everyone's here. Let's hang out.”

Diluc's face clearly showed he was tempted, but unlike before, he didn't immediately agree. Instead, he looked at F/N for approval. “How about you join us?” he asked her tentatively.

Jean's reaction was the most obvious: she pouted and kept making eye signals to the others.

F/N withdrew her hand from Diluc, her voice calm, “Then I'll take a taxi home.”

“I'll come back early.” Diluc promised.

But F/N was unconcerned as she had made plans with Ayato.

Along with a few other friends, they went to a most bustling bar in town. They selected a spacious booth and quickly started to have fun.

After a few rounds, the woman beside F/N tapped her shoulder and pointed to a spot, “That looks wild over there.”

Everyone turned to look, F/N included and she saw familiar faces. At a nearby table, it was Diluc's childhood friends; seven guys and one girl, with the table piled high with bottles. Diluc was in the centre seat, his eyes focused on his phone.

Jean snatched the phone from his hand and straddled him, wrapping her arms around his neck and waving a bottle of alcohol.

“Looks like they're playing the 'King's Game'.” one of the bar patrons remarked. “Feeing each other drinks mouth to mouth. This girl is wild; she was just asked to take off her bra and she took it off without a word and hung it around the neck of the guy next to her.”

The nonchalant F/N simply watched as Diluc allowed Jean to bend down with the alcohol in her mouth, ready to respond with his lips.

Jean didn't get to feed him because F/N walked over and slapped her, causing to scene to become very ugly. Diluc's friends tried to smooth things over, insisting it was just a joke. Jean looked pitiful, saying it was just a game.

With a blank expression, F/N simply tossed Jean's bra in her face and turned to leave. “If you like playing, wait until Diluc and I divorce. Then you can play all you want.”

“Honey, we were really just playing a game.” Diluc pleaded, chasing F/N home. “Jean always messes around with us. We don't even think of her as a woman. I promise I won't mess around with them again.” the more he tried to appease F/N, the more impatient he became. Finally, he grabbed his hair and yelled at F/N.

At this moment, F/N had already packed her luggage. “Move.” she glared coldly at the redhead's arm blocking her way.

Diluc was scared by F/N 's expression, his tall figure stiffened slightly, his face flushed with alcohol and he gritted his teeth, “Do you have to be so serious about this?”

“Diluc, can you accept me sitting on Ayato's lap like that?” F/N asked. Seeing Diluc's frozen look, she sneered, “You can't. You saw us sitting together in the back seat during a business trip and got mad at me for days. So, why do you expect me to turn a blind eye?”

“That's different.” Diluc blurted out. “I'm a man, you're a woman. When I go out, no one takes advantage of me.”

“So, you all knew?” F/N hissed, realization dawning. “You knew Jean's behaviour was wrong; it was wanton, it was disgusting. Just because she's a woman, you enjoy it. You take pride in taking advantage of her.” seeing Diluc's averted gazed, she laughed, “I brought Ayato to provoke you on purpose. Because I initially thought you just didn't understand the boundaries of male and female relationships and I wanted you to learn from experience. Looks like I was wrong; you weren't unaware, you just enjoyed it. Diluc, let's get a divorce or I'll despise you even more.”

Diluc tried to get his in-laws involved; to persuade F/N from divorcing him, only to have the tide turn a few days.

As it turned out, someone had filmed the bar incident and uploaded it online. Suddenly, the whole internet knew about Jean sitting on a married man's lap, feeding him alcohol mouth to mouth and getting slapped by the man's wife. The public opinion was overwhelmingly against them. Everyone was condemning Diluc and Jean. “Disgusting. She knew he had a wife and went for it? She doesn't care if he has a wife, she'd go for anyone. Didn't you see her bra hanging around another man's neck? The guy is gross, too. So many people and he's not afraid of getting diseases.”

At first, Jean argued with the netizens, saying they were heartless and dirty-minded and that her relationship with Diluc was purely childhood friendship. But the netizens didn't buy it. They started digging up her information, her various accounts. The more they dug, the more they found; she wore her 'brother's clothes, slept in their beds, drank from the same cup, shared an ice cream and held hands tightly. The worst was when she sneaked into a private male bathhouse wrapped in a towel to soak with her brothers. She documented all of this in her daily posts, her words filled with pride.

As a result from the scandal, all the neighbourhood male friends with girlfriends all broke up and the singles lost any chance of finding someone.

Marketing accounts dubbed them 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'.

Watching all of this unfold, F/N actually felt a bit of satisfaction.

Pressured by both her parents and in-laws, F/N gave Diluc and ultimatum: as long as he had no contact with Jean for a month, she would stop considering divorce.

Diluc was overjoyed and agreed, thinking the ultimatum was something he could easily achieve.

But F/N knew better; for Diluc, this was a losing bet.

Afterwards, Diluc blocked Jean. He really stopped contacting her. He even left the group, unfollowed all her accounts and even showed F/N daily screenshots of his phone to ensure his contacts were clean.

Ayato was surprised, “F/N, you are not thinking of getting back with your ex, are you?” he knew of F/N's issues with Diluc. During their business trip, he analysed the situation and offered a solution: fight fire with fire. Make Diluc experience what it's like to have a close opposite-sex friend. “Divorce is inevitable.”

Her decision made, F/N filed for divorce on Jean's birthday. She deliberately chose that day, not out of spite, but because she knew Diluc will attend the birthday party without fail and she didn't want him to stop her.

[bamfkeeper]

Bamf Babies

RQ: 'I saw that you opened your requests and could I request a dabble of the daily life of Kurt and his partner who treats his bamfs as if they're are their babies? Like she cooks for them, makes them little clothes, tucks them in, gives them names (with Kurt's approval, of course), and all that?' - @mari-thesimp

Warnings: GN reader, though the term 'mother' is used just once just as a way to describe your role. Unedited.

A/N: Umm yes??? Ugh, this was a fun little drabble. The bamfs, come on, cute little guys. I wish I had one. I'd kill for one.

The bamfs were...a lot...when you first met them. They were like little gremlins who were constantly at full energy, scampering around and getting into things they weren't supposed to. The only time they weren't running around so much was when they finally sat to eat. Kurt noticed that they were fond of you right away, and while he has to leave for missions, he decides to leave them with you, or at least a few at a time before it gradually turned into all of them.

You became their unofficial mother. But like hell you'd deny that.

The bamfs slept with you, all curled up beside you like a litter of kittens. Their soft, velvety skin felt so warm against you, like gentle peach fuzz. Sometimes they fought to sleep the closest to you, some would cry and you'd have to reassure them.

Bamfs can be quite jealous, so you have to make sure to show equal amounts of affection and love, otherwise it can cause an unruly bamf which is never fun. As you learned how they worked, you got better at managing them all.

Each morning, you wake up and made them breakfast. Kurt is normally exhausted, so you let him sleep in. The bamfs scramble out of bed with you, eager and happy. their little chirps and chitters fill the kitchen as they gather by your feet. Some climb on the counter, trying their best to help you cook. Pancakes were their favorite, but they weren't so good at making them. They tried, but they often made a big mess with the batter. Then they fought...and an even bigger mess happens.

So you handle the mixing. You learned.

They still liked to try to help, so you let them put chocolate chips or blueberries in them if they wanted. Each pancake you poured, you held up a bamf and they sprinkled in their add-on. Each one was served and given syrup, and now you had a handful of happy, quiet bamfs. Still and busy eating their food. Their big cheeks full of sweet pancakes as they ate happily.

"Guten Morgen..." Kurt says groggily, making his presence known. He's got major bedhead, trudging over to you and rubbing his eye sleepily. You return the greeting, smiling at him as he hugs you from behind. "Any for me...?" he asks tiredly, his face nuzzles your neck.

"Of course," you chuckle lightly. The bamfs had to get their sweet tooth from somewhere, and Kurt's sweet tooth was crazy.

You make Kurt his breakfast, and pass out cut up bananas and fruits for the bamfs. Some pout, and you chuckle. "Now, you have to have something healthy too, little ones. Besides, bananas and berries are yummy." You spoke gently to them, scratching their heads as you distributed the food. They all reluctantly ate the fruit, wanting to make you happy.

After breakfast, it's bath time. You bath the bamfs twice a day, they get...dirty, very easy. Luckily all of them can fit in the bathtub, so it's not that difficult. You scrub them and wash their hair, seeing them happily splash and play in the water. Some hate the water, they are like cats, trying to get away from the tiniest of drops, but you manage. There are one or two where Kurt has to help hold them in so you can wash them. The poor bamfs cry and try their hardest to get out, but only when they're clean. You give them lots of kisses when they're done, so they feel better. The little dears eventually stop crying, but they pout and are grumpy.

You like to play with them, you go outside and play on the playgrounds with them, the bamfs love slides. They're also little spiders, crawling on every single thing they can.

"Careful!" you called, one bamf climbed on the very top of the castle and chirped victoriously. The bamf seemed so proud of itself, but like that instinct you had, the bamf slipped and slid off the castle top and down to the wooden pellets that covered the playground. It landed on its back and its little body rolled over, the force of the landing turned it onto its belly.

A soft hic and it started to cry. You rushed over, Kurt noticed and teleported beside the little bamf as it cried. Its tearful cheeks damp as it reached up to you. "Awe it's okay...I'm here baby..." you cooed, holding the darling bamf close. It was a little dirty, but otherwise okay. Nothing broken, "You're gonna have one hell of a knot on your head later, sweetheart."

The bamf cried and buried itself into you, the others were concerned and slowed their play as you comforted the hurt bamf. "He's okay, liebe...just a little hurt." Kurt reassured, but the bamf didn't want to be put down and you didn't want to let it go yet.

"I know, I know...just let me comfort him..." you whispered to Kurt, whom backed off and let you do your thing. "Shh, sh...it's alright, you slipped, that's all. You're okay, little one..." you reassured the bamf and gave it a little kiss on the head, your hand gently soothing the sore spot.

Playtime didn't last much longer, you all went inside to clean up once again, and it was dinner time. You cooked and hummed, the bamf who hurt itself didn't leave your side, crying and wanting to be held constantly. You of course held it, the poor thing kept itself buried against you. The darling had a wrap around its head where it fell and you held an ice pack to the spot when you weren't stirring dinner at the stove.

Kurt occupied the rest, they couldn't use sharp utensils, but they helped season things. When dinner was served, it was a typical mealtime, they ate happily with little complaint unless it came to brussel sprouts and broccoli. You cleaned up, and came to the den to relax for the evening and enjoy their company...and Kurt's of course.

The bamfs colored at the table, most of their drawings were messy and childlike. The injured bamf stayed close to you, laying in your lap with the ice on its head. The pitiful bamf was extremely attached to you, and would sometimes make cries to get your attention when it wanted more.

Kurt stayed close to you, sighing down at the little bamf. "He's really attached to you, schatz...all of them are. They might love you more than me," he chuckled lightly, kissing your temple. The comment and kiss made you smile lightly, your heart beating a little quicker.

"Ah well...I just try to care for them the best I can." Your thumb was gently rubbing the bamf's cheek, the little one had fallen asleep in your lap. "I think it's bedtime, the others are quite sleepy too."

The rest were slow and sluggish now, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Kurt agreed, leading them all up to your bedroom. "Alright little ones...let's get you in your jammies." you hummed, holding up little onsies you made for them. Putting clothes on them for the first time was hard, but over the months, they learned to adjust. It was like putting clothes on a cat, they acted funny at first but as you learned the sizes and where the clothes were pinching, you figured out how to make the clothes as comfortable as possible.

They all slept in bed with you, but they had their own little corner where there was a big nest they slept in too. However, you couldn't deny them if they wanted to sleep beside you, especially the hurt one. So after you changed and got ready for bed, you slipped in and they all piled in after you. The injured snuggling close, then the rest came around and settled.

Kurt was behind you, his tail wrapping around your leg. "Comfy?" he asks you softly, and you nod in return. You were exhausted. The day was long and you were ready for bed. You had a little family here, and you couldn't be happier with your life. Kurt and the bamfs were your everything, and you were theirs.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover images from Nightcrawler #5 (2014)

[nyxoxoxoxo]

Bamf!Bruce wayne x gn!reader platonic

Reader who is closed off and distant at first but when they come out of their shell they turn out to be an out spoken anarchyst, anti capitalist, proud to be woke, possibly queer, possibly disabled and ofc traumatized asf

Bruce who thought he was taking in a sweet shy kid who turned out to be a baddie who just needed a safe place

Bruce: surprised, impressed and quite pleased reader feels safe and has a good time with the rest of the batfam

[writing-intheundercroft]

Wreck My Plans - S. Sallow

AO3 Link

Word Count: 8,734

Rating: E (Smut, Oral Sex, Fingering, Pregnancy, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: You try to share some life-changing news with Sebastian, but it seems he has other plans. Specifically, recruiting you to join one of his missions.

A/N: Auror Seb is back! I've been writing this one in the background for a while. Who was going to warn me that writing action sequences was hard??? Next one for auror Seb is a prologue to the series :)

“You’re sure?” You ask, swallowing thickly as you process the information your fellow healer has just told you.

“Very.” She smiles broadly. “By the looks of it, ten weeks or so.  You never noticed any of the symptoms until now?”

Your hand flies down to pet your stomach, and the tiny bump that now seems obvious.  How could you have not known?  

“I figured I was just hungrier,” you admit. “Tired from the transition to the day shift, adjusting back to the time zone after traveling.”

“Yes, well no more international travel for you.” the healer advises. “Not until the baby is born.  I daresay, you might not be traveling for quite some time, especially with a young babe in hand. How’s that house in Marunweem coming along?”

You’ve been bragging about your fixer upper for months now; Sebastian has really made a dent in the work, adding another bedroom and fixing up a porch on the backside of the house.  During the week, Sebastian is poised and collected, proving time and time again to his superiors just why he deserved the promotion to senior auror.  On the weekends, he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned as he hammers away at the wooden planks.

More often than not, you’re ripping his shirt off for him, or situated below him on your knees.  He works so incredibly hard for the two of you and the life he wants to give you; it's hard to keep your hands to yourself.

You start piecing together the timeline, what you’d been doing all this time; when you remember where you were at, you blush at the thought.  Ten weeks ago, you and Sebastian were in Sicily, enjoying your first real holiday as a couple.  He spared no expense, renting a palazzo from an Italian wizard he’d met through a contact in the department of international magic affairs.  You’d spent three glorious weeks by the sea, eating fresh seafood and exploring every inch of Sebastian’s body at night.  

“Sebastian!” You swatted at him.  

He grinned at you, his fingers plunged inside of you.  It was positively deranged the way he began fucking you with his hand, the seed he’d just spilt inside of you pushed further in.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly. “You did agree to have my baby a few months ago, if I recall correctly…”

Sebastian’s swollen lips descended upon yours, hungrily kissing you.  To your surprise, his thick length started to swell again, clearly aroused by your whimpering and the wet sound of his spend being manipulated, pushed even closer to its goal.

“You’re incorrigible,” You laugh against his lips as he situated himself between your legs again. The room was dimly lit, only deeply burnt candles illuminating the room you’d called home for the past few days.

“What can I say?” Sebastian whispered, teeth grazing your chin. “I’m insatiable for my fiancee.”

You took in a sharp breath when you felt the blunt head of his cock pressed against your heat again. “That’s the third time tonight,” you gasped as he slid into you with ease.  Your body knew who it belonged to–Sebastian was no intrusion. Your head tilted back against the pillows, moaning as Sebastian laved his tongue up and down your sweaty throat. 

“I don’t care,” Sebastian grunted, slowly rolling his hips against you. “Three–fucking–weeks–ungh, all I want to do is have you in bed, naked, for three whole weeks uninterrupted.”

You clutch onto him, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you flutter around him again. 

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

You blink out of your daydream, looking back up at your healer. 

“What did you ask?”

“I asked if you’ve been doing any strenuous activity lately.” The healer asks.

You turn bright red, brushing the back of your neck with your hand. You’ve been bedding Sebastian nearly every night, at least when the two of you aren’t exhausted from work or feeling ill.  Neither of you ever minded to track your courses, considering they’d been tricky after years of an off-kilter schedule at St. Mungo's. 

“I’ll take it easy,” you assure the healer, who doesn’t seem all that convinced. She lets you off with a blood renewing potion and some vitamins, and you leave St. Mungo's in a daze.

Your first instinct is to run straight to the ministry, barreling into Sebastian’s office with the news.  But on second thought, it’s probably news best saved for home–you’d rather not have the most important news of your life shared in front of his colleagues. Instead, you make your way to Diagon Alley to pick up supplies for dinner, stopping by the owl post office to send a note to Poppy.  You haven’t heard from her in a little while, but you know she’ll be over the moon when she reads the news.

All is well in your life, you think.  You’ll have to move the wedding up–Ominis and Anne have been insistent you wait until the next spring, once the frost has thawed and you can have a May wedding.  You’d really rather not host your newborn at your wedding, so late autumn will have to do.  Perhaps you can sneak away to Feldcroft for the weekend with a few friends in tow, take an unbreakable vow in the center of the hamlet–

“I’m home,” You hear a voice call out.

Dropping the ladle, you wipe your hands on your skirts as you rush to greet Sebastian at the fireplace.  Skidding into the living room, your smile falters when you see the gruff expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Sebastian shakes his head, hanging his coat on the rack next to the fireplace. “Long day,” he mumbles, sliding past you to go straight into the bedroom.  You feel a bit deflated–Sebastian is rarely one to avoid your touch, but tonight is different.  You hear the bathroom door slam, the faucets turning as he fills the bath.  From what you can remember, Sebastian is only ever this grizzly after a bad day at work.  Either bad news on a case, a perpetrator that’s gotten away, or the most dire, losing a colleague. 

You tiptoe up to the bathroom, rapping your knuckles against the wooden door. 

“Come in,” Sebastian sighs.

You slip past the door, kneeling next to the clawfoot tub.  Sebastian is submerged in steaming water, bubbles dissipating in the water.  Work has been particularly stressful–he’s gone a few days without shaving, dark stubble coating his chin.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

Sebastian lolls his head back against the edge of the tub, staring at the ceiling. “We’ve got a real pain of a case on our hands.” he mutters, tilting his head to look at you.  It’s an unspoken question, one that doesn’t need asking–he should know by now that nothing he ever shares about his cases ever leaves the four walls of your home.

“International dragon breeding ring.” He states, the water splashing as he pulls up his knees under the water. “Seems like they were trying to raise some Hebridean Blacks in the highlands.  Clearly didn’t know how to handle their dragons, so the crew was burnt to a crisp by the time we got there.”

“That’s horrible,” you shake your head.

Sebastian wrinkles his nose. “I never, ever want to see bodies like that ever again.” he gags. “The worst part is now that they’re all toast, we’ve lost our only lead to the larger gang.”

“I’m sorry.” you pout, stroking his hair.

Sebastian sighs. “It’s okay.  I’m just quite tired for the day; I had a sausage roll on my way home from the office, I think I’ll just tuck in to bed early tonight.”

He notices you visibly shrink, knitting his thick eyebrows together. “What’s wrong, pet?”

“I made dinner.” you say sheepishly. “Your favorite.”

Sebastian gives you a wry look. “I’m sorry, love.  Rain check?  I really do just want to get in bed.”

Sebastian can’t see the way your hand hovers over your abdomen under the lip of the tub.  And while you’re desperate to share the news, you’d rather do so when he’s in a better mood. The last thing you want is the happy memory of your pregnancy announcement being marred by troubles at work.

“It’s fine, really.” you assure him. “I’ll pack it all up so you can take it to lunch tomorrow, bring a bit for the boys.”

Sebastian snorts, beads of water dripping from his arms as he lifts them out of the water. “I’m sure Everett and Andrew will love that.  Those two rarely ever see a home cooked meal.”  

“I’m not sure what those boys would do without me.” you say sarcastically. “Ominis was right–I have to stop feeding them so often; they’re coming back week by week like stray cats.”

“Oh please, you love babying the two of them.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. 

The word has your smile faltering, and Sebastian tilts his head, giving you a sympathetic look.

“It will happen, you know.” he puts a hand under your chin, tilting it up towards you. “I know it’s upsetting that it’s taken this long, but it’ll all work out in time.”

“Oh, that’s not–”

“Perhaps we should wait until after the wedding,” Sebastian suggests. “I mean, that’s surely the more proper thing to do. Plan it out, do it the right order.”

You turn bright red, swallowing thickly; Sebastian really has no clue. “We’ve never been proper, the two of us.”

Sebastian lets out a low chuckle, eyes darting down to your lips. “No, I don’t think we have.” The pad of his thumb traces over your lips, slipping between them.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian breathes. “I finish washing up, and I meet you in the bedroom for a cuddle.”

“Something tells me we’re not going to be cuddling.” You raise an eyebrow, eyes darting down to Sebastian’s free hand, which has slipped underneath the water and between his legs. 

“No, we’re not.” Sebastian says, voice low and needy.  Your eyes flit down to the surface of the water, rippling with every stroke of his hand. “Get in the bed, now.”

You smile, biting down on your lip as you do what he says. After all, it won’t be long before two becomes three, so you want to relish these nights for as long as you can.

You wake up when Sebastian presses his lips against yours.  He’s never been very good at kissing softly–almost always, your fiance kisses you with enough fervor to wake you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, nosing your cheek. “I wanted to kiss you before I left.  Got a message that I need to be in the office earlier than usual–all hands on deck.”

You open your eyes, blinking up at him.  He’s fully dressed in his suit, auror badge pinned to his coat pocket.  His work bag is at his feet, last night’s carefully wrapped leftovers next to it.  From the window behind him, you can see the sky is still black, a smattering of stars filling the sky.  It has to be four, maybe five o’clock in the morning.

“Send Everett and Andrew my love,” you yawn. “Tell them to enjoy the short rib.”

Sebastian snorts, mouth descending upon yours once more. “I’m starting to think you like them more than me,” he teases, nipping your lower lip with his teeth. “Have a good shift today.  I’ll see you at home tonight.”

You don’t follow Sebastian to the fireplace, instead electing to fall back into your bed for a few more hours of sleep before your shift at St. Mungo's. You’ll tell him tonight, you think, putting together the plan while you dress for the day.  Perhaps roast chicken and potatoes for dinner, and a cake with the good news on it.  You’re buzzing, eager to execute your plan once you’ve gotten home. So much so, you completely miss the owl sitting in the window, clucking at you while you hum over your cooking.

It’s only when the owl threatens to bite you that you pick up the note, deflating the minute you see the DMLE logo.  

Urgent case.  All hands on deck–we’ve been ordered to stay in the office until further notice; might be traveling internationally too.  I’ll send an owl when I know more. 

xx Sebastian

You shrug off your worries; this isn’t exactly unexpected. Given the high risk of Sebastian’s job, he’s often sequestered to the office or traveling for a case, sometimes days at a time. Perhaps the waiting will make your reveal all the more special.  You can picture Sebastian falling to the ground in front of the fireplace once you tell him after much time away from home.

After two days, you’re worried.  Come five, you’re irritated.  Ten days later, you’re thoroughly mad that this case has wrecked your plans.

It takes nearly all your willpower not to break down the doors of the auror office.  On the bright side, Sebastian knows well enough to reassure you of his good health via owl post. Per usual, he can’t say much, except that there had been a considerable development in their dragon breeding ring case.  He’s been bunking up with Everett and Andrew in the office (the two bachelors also sending thank you cards for the feast you’d cooked) and he’s quite miserable without your company.

Sebastian’s owl post gives you some peace over the miserable days, especially considering the onset of your morning sickness.  It seems that since your brain has accepted the concept of being pregnant, your body has decided to follow suit.  You’re lucky that there are plenty of other mothers working at St. Mungo’s beside you, each of them offering a sympathetic smile or a packet of crackers once you've emerged from the bathroom.

You’re just returning from a trip to the porcelain throne, wiping the corner of your mouth, only to hear your name once you pass the ward matron desk.

“Oi, ministry man is looking for you,” one of your fellow healers says, jerking their thumb back towards the ward matron’s desk. 

You whip your head around to see a sharply dressed man standing at the desk, seemingly annoying your ward matron.  He’s older and gray; there’s something familiar about his face.

It clicks–he’s Sebastian’s superior officer.

The blood drains from your face as you walk towards him, hands clenched in fists. “Can I help you?”

He says your name, bowing his head slightly. “Augustus Green, we’ve met before. You’re Sallow’s fiancee, aren’t you?”

“Is he alright?” you ask, panicking.  You instinctively press a hand to your stomach.

“Oh goodness, I should’ve started with that,” he admits sheepishly. “Sallow is fine, no cause for alarm.  I’m here to summon you for an appearance at the office.”

“Summon? Me?” you gape up at him. 

“All the information is here,” Green says impatiently, handing you a manilla folder. “And a letter for your matron to excuse you from your duties.”

It’s all a blur from there, the ward matron clicking her tongue disapprovingly when you hand over the letter.  With that task out of the way, Officer Green starts herding you to the closest floo flame.  It feels as if he’s got you by the back of your robe, pulling you into the green fire. You grip the manilla folder tighter, swallowing down the vomit in your throat.  Floo travel is safe while pregnant, but certainly not comfortable. 

When your eyes open, you’re standing in an unfamiliar office.  You know where you are though–the ministry, the DMLE office specifically.  The furnishings match Sebastian’s office, except this one is clearly larger.  There’s a woman organizing files in the corner, quickly standing to greet Officer Green on his return.

“Marlene, put a kettle on, why don’t you?” Green huffs, walking over to his chair. “And summon the task force team.  Meeting in my office.”

You cross your arms over your chest–it’s Marlene of all people, one of Sebastian’s former flings.  She gives you a phony smile, eyes flitting down to the diamond ring on your left hand.

Well, you suppose the crestfallen look on her face makes the trip to the ministry worthwhile. 

As Marlene passes through the doorway, a group of aurors makes their way inside.  A few unfamiliar faces, but then three of your favorites–Andrew Larson, Everett Clopton, and Sebastian.  Sebastian is giving you a proud grin, chest puffed out.  You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and his once sparse beard is now growing thick.  It takes all of your self control to not throw yourself into his arms, relieved to see that your fiance is still well after being away for so long.

The aurors line up against the wall, awaiting instructions.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve asked you here,” Green states, folding his hands on his desk. “We’re assembling a task force team to work on a sensitive case. We normally wouldn’t operate on foreign soil, but considering the abductee is a British citizen–”

“Pardon, abductee?” You interrupt. 

“Yes, details will be in your briefing.” Officer Green states, pointing down to the folder in your hands. “Our officers have spent the last few months tracking the smaller units of an international dragon breeding ring.  They’ve gotten sloppy since we’ve started apprehending their top breeders, and have since retreated to their home base in Norway. A British citizen has been abducted by the ring leaders of the operation, likely due to her expansive knowledge on Norwegian Ridgebacks.  Miss Sweeting is a well known magizoologist–”

Your throat goes dry, and for the first time in days, your stomach is churning from anxiety, not from morning sickness.

“Miss Sweeting was abducted from her home–sign of forced entry, her wand and personal effects were found littered throughout the property.  Our auror department has uncovered evidence that leads us to believe the criminals are keeping her on hand with the dragons to provide guidance in their breeding efforts.”

Officer Green carries on. “The task force comprises several of our best aurors, some of which were classmates of Miss Sweeting and have a personal interest in her safety. You were recommended to join the task force by Officer Sallow,” Green continues. “Considering your relationship to Miss Sweeting, and experience with dragons in the past.”

You blink at the senior officer, mouth agape. “But I’m only a healer, sir.”

“A healer will be extraordinarily important for a mission like this,” Green points out. “With the imminent danger–”

“You saved half the department once,” Andrew Larson blurts. “Rather have you on our team if we’re facing dragons and dark wizards in one go.”

The room dissolves into nervous giggles as Green swats at Andrew.  Sebastian, however, is completely unphased, smiling at you as if he’s signed you up for a field trip, not a mission across international lines to save one of your best friends.  If Poppy wasn’t the one in danger, you probably would’ve wrung his neck by now.

“As I was saying before Mr. Larson so rudely interrupted,” Green rolled his eyes. “We need a healer on the task force. We will pay you for any days missed at your regular shift, and a bonus upon return.  That, and all accommodations in Norway–”

“I’m sorry, Norway?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes, where we believe the perpetrators are keeping Miss Sweeting to assist in the breeding of their dragons.” Green interjects, tapping the briefing folder again. “We have a portkey scheduled to depart in an hour. Please review your folder beforehand.”

You hardly listen to the rest of the briefing.  The rational side of your brain is screaming at you to tell the truth–you’re pregnant, the healers just said to limit international travel, and you hardly think you should be jumping into battle with a dragon breeding ring in your condition.  Is portkey travel even safe during pregnancy?  

Your thoughts scream at you as Green dismisses the room; before your brain even registers movement, your feet are scuffling towards Sebastian’s office. He’s standing at his desk, two large duffle bags side by side. You shut the door with trembling hands.

“I took the liberty of purchasing some things you’ll need,” he says cheerfully, digging through the bag. You hold out your arms as he pushes a pair of trousers and a shirt into them. “Some wool stockings and your base layers, it’ll be cold, that’s for sure…” he trails off.

“Sebastian,” you swallow thickly. “Sebastian, I–”

“I’m sorry if this is coming across as a surprise.” Sebastian shucks off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt. “That, and for being gone for so long.  It was all hands on deck with the case; I’ve been bunking up in here with Larson and Clopton.  You have no idea how badly I want to be home.” he groans, slipping a new undershirt on.

Your brain is frazzled. You want to be angry at him, to be worried, but your heart is thumping in your chest.  It’s been too long since you’ve seen him, and you’ve been worried sick.  Your body’s first instinct is to wrap your arms around him and inhale his familiar scent.

Sebastian laughs when you do so, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know, Pet. As soon as this is done and dusted and we’ve got Poppy home, things can go back to normal.” he murmurs against your hair.

You nuzzle your face deeper into his chest, inhaling his cedar cologne. “Are you sure this is safe?  I'm not in dueling shape.” you admit sheepishly.  In your youth, you would’ve charged into combat headfirst without warning–years of working in St. Mungo's has you untrained.

Sebastian laughs, his beard tickling your face. “Safe? You’re the best duelist I know–besides myself, of course. You’ll be fine.  Besides, we mostly need you for healing purposes.  That magic of yours works a trick on burns.  Remember–”

“In the Undercroft, when you accidentally blew up a barrel of mead.” you snort at the memory.  It hadn’t been funny then, watching Sebastian writhe on the floor from the burns.  You’d fallen at his side, instinctively using your ancient magic to siphon the pain. He was healed in a matter of seconds, and it set you on the trajectory to become a healer.

“Precisely.” Sebastian licks his lips. “That, and to be with Poppy. I’m sorry, I wish I could have told you sooner, but we weren’t allowed to say.” He pulls a wand from his desk–Poppy’s wand, white ash wood with a swirling handle–and presses it into your hands. “You should hold on to it, for safekeeping.  You can give it to her once we rescue her.”

You look up at his chocolate brown eyes, lids dotted with freckles.  You want to tell him–you need to tell him–

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian pouts. “You’ve always said you wanted to come to work with me.”

You open your mouth, trying to find the words, but you can’t.  You’ll be fine, you think.  What’s one more trip?  Besides, you’ll do anything to ensure Poppy is safe.

“I don’t like your beard.” you blurt.

Sebastian roars with laughter, rubbing his jawline. “I knew you’d hate it; Clopton and Larson were egging me on to grow it out.  I don't have a razor here; I promise I’ll shave it when I get home.  Now, come on, let’s get you dressed all warm and snug. We've got a portkey to catch.”

“I’m sorry–I thought I had your size memorized.” Sebastian mutters, helping you unlace your corset.

You wince, a low hiss coming out from your lips as you let the offending garment fall to the ground.  Assessing your torso in the blurred mirror, you can see lines from the whalebone pins left in your skin.  Your hand instinctively rubs over your stomach silently apologizing to the babe inside of you for being squished all afternoon.  

“The portkey couldn’t just drop us off here, at the inn?” You complain, slipping one of Sebastian’s clean shirts over your head.  

“We couldn’t draw attention to ourselves, you know that,” Sebastian tuts. “Besides, I thought you enjoyed hiking?”

“I enjoy hiking when it's planned.” you groan, falling back against the bed. “Almost thought I’d ask Andrew to cart me up the mountain.”

Sebastian starts unlacing your boots, letting the heavy shoes fall to the floor.  Your woolen stockings are peeled off next, laid out next to the fireplace to stay warm.  He carefully unlaces and works your trousers off your legs, draping them over a stool.  

“I am sorry.” Sebastian says, climbing into bed next to you.  Your muscles are sore, legs like jelly after the long trek.  Knowing this, he pulls your legs into his lap, working his thumbs into your calves to massage them. “I thought it might be fun.”

You snort. “Fun? Sebastian, we’re on a mission to find Poppy, who's been taken hostage by dragon dealers. That hardly sounds like fun.” Your head falls back against the pillows, which have definitely seen better days.

“I know, but they were looking for a healer to join the force, and I knew you were the right person.” Sebastian reminds you, nimble fingers moving down to massage your sore feet. “Besides, it’s kind of fun to work together, isn’t it?  Reminds me of the good old days.”

“Ah, yes, the good old days.” you parrot back to him. “Us, running like vigilantes around the highlands. Stealing bounty from old chests, blasting away at acromantulas.”

“What can I say?  We were spirited teenagers.” Sebastian chuckles.  His fingers slow, making deliberate circles in the arch of your foot. “I wanted us to have one more good adventure before we settled down, got married.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. “We won’t have adventures after we’re married?  Thanks for the vote of confidence.” you jest.

“You know what I mean,” Sebastian shrugs. “After we’re married and we’ve got kids in the house, we’ll be boring old parents.” he wrinkles his nose. “Might as well bank up a few good stories for the children while we still can.”

Your smile falters. “Do you really think we’ll be that boring?”

“We’ll have to be, won’t we?” Sebastian sighs. “I’ll probably take some time off after the baby is born, of course.  And when I’m back to work, I’ll ask to be reassigned to low risk cases.  So, in the meantime, I’ll enjoy all the tough stuff while I still can.”

You should tell him.  You really do need to tell him.

You don’t.

He sounds so glum, trading in a life of adventure and danger for nappies and lullabies.  Perhaps his interest in fatherhood was just spurred by the renewal of your relationship. It makes sense that he’d start thinking more clearly now that it’s been nearly a year together.  Merlin, maybe he’s already bored of the little life you’ve created together–the house on a hill, far from the bustling city.  The logical side of your brain reminds you that Sebastian loves you, dotes on you, hand and foot (quite literally, the man is still massaging your feet).  Yet the irrational side of your brain, likely flooded with pent-up hormonal energy, reminds you that he hasn’t been home in days . 

“You still love me, right?”  Gods, the words sound pathetic coming out of your mouth.

“Of course I do.” Sebastian’s eyes widen. “How could you think otherwise?”

“It’s nothing.” you say quickly, waving him off. “Just a stupid intrusive thought.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue, pushing your legs from his lap.  You stay, perched on your elbows, watching him move in between your legs. With a mischievous smile, Sebastian picks up your foot, pressing a kiss to your ankle.

“Then it seems I’ll have to work extra hard to put those thoughts to bed,” Sebastian whispers lowly.  His tongue laves circles up your calf, eyes trained on you while his mouth moves up, up, up your thigh.

“You colleagues are in the other room.” You croak.

“We have magic, don’t we?” Sebastian teases. “ Silencio should do the trick, unless I’ve made you forget basic spellcasting.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to hide the laugh bubbling in your throat.

It’s against your better judgment, but you reach over to the side table to grab your wand.  Flicking it at the door, you mutter the silencing charm under your breath.  The room suddenly feels like a bubble, no noise from the outside world permitted in, and vice versa.

“We can’t go crazy,” you whimper as Sebastian takes a deliberate lick, pressing a kiss to your center. A moan slips from your mouth, head crashing against the flat pillows. “We have to wake up– oh, yes, right there –ugh, Sebastian, we have to wake up early.”

Sebastian grins, teeth grazing your skin lightly as he presses a languid kiss to the crease of your thigh. “I won’t keep you awake too long.” he promises, before diving back between your legs.

Sebastian knows you–almost a little too well, you think.  Somehow he knows the sex you need is tender and soft, his hips rocking into yours while he whispers how much he missed you, how he longs to come home to your bed.  His hand ghosts over your abdomen, but you quickly pull it up to your lips, pressing soft kisses to his worn knuckles. When he comes, face buried in your neck, he can't stop telling you how much he loves you. It isn't long before Sebastian drifts to sleep, lightly snoring against your skin with his arms wrapped around you. His beard tickles your shoulders, but you’ve missed him too much to push him away.

You flick your wrist at the candles, quickly extinguishing the fire.  With only pale moonlight streaming in through threadbare curtains, you pull the blankets up to your neck, focusing on Sebastian’s steady breathing.

Steady. Unwavering (except the time that you broke up…well, he’s more than made up for that by now). Dependable, devoted. Sebastian is going to make the most amazing father. You shut your drooping eyelids, reassuring yourself that Sebastian will be excited when you finally get to share your news.

“I'm freezing.” you spit out, shivering from the cold air.

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” Everett complains, recasting an anti-fogging spell on his glasses. “Larson should’ve made contact by now.”

“We have to stick to the plan,” Sebastian bites back. “Larson was to make contact with the dealers, send a signal leading to his location.  If he didn’t by sundown, we’d abandon the post and go back to the inn.”

While Sebastian had kept you busy the night prior, Andrew had gone undercover.  Your sweet Ravenclaw friend is unassuming, and quite the actor it seems–he reported at breakfast to say the breeders had given him coordinates to a meeting point, where he’d be given the opportunity to purchase a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon egg. Poking at his poached egg, Andrew assured the group that he’d send a patronus signal for back up once he’d identified the location of the operation.

Waiting for Andrew’s signal is excruciating, the better half of the day spent sitting around a now nearly burnt out campfire. You were pacing back and forth in the snow, drumming your fingers against your throat.  While you’re sure Andrew can hold his own (he has for years now, Sebastian tells you–a surprisingly astute duellist, much improved from his days in Crossed Wands) you hate the idea of your cheerful blond friend being alone.

Sebastian stands up, brushing snow from his pants. “It’ll be dark soon,” he muses. “We should start heading down to the inn soon.”

Your eyes widen. “And leave Andrew?”

“Andrew is an auror, Pet.” Sebastian reminds you. “One of our best.  He’ll be just fine getting down the mountain on his own.”

“If he needed back up, he would’ve called by now.” Everett tries to assure you, wiping his fogged up glasses again. “Gosh, I hope we’re only here another day or so–I fear my chomping cabbages are dead by now, I’ve been away from home for too long.”

“We can’t possibly leave him,” you gasp, stomping your foot in the snow. “I won’t allow it.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to argue with you, but clamps it shut when the sky darkens.  

“Take cover!” he roars, grabbing you and tackling you to the snow.  You gasp, curling into him as he rolls you behind a collection of boulders. In seconds, Everett has joined you.  His mouth is hanging open, staring up at the massive dark spot soaring above you.

“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Everett gasps. “Is that–”

“A Norwegian Ridgeback,” Sebastian grunts, tucking you in tighter to his chest. “A young one, based on the size, but still dangerous.”

Peeking over Sebastian’s shoulder, you can see a young dragon soaring overhead.  You can see the cracked collar, chains hanging from its neck. The poor beast is clawing at the collar, a high pitched squeal coming from its mouth as it flaps its wings. When its jaw opens, you can see the flames curling up from the back of its throat.  Sebastian backs into you, an arm curling around your waist to keep you shielded from the heat. 

“Protego!” you hear a familiar voice scream. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Sebastian spits out.  He peeks around the boulder, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as his jaw falls open.  You stand to sneak a peek, equally shocked at the sight before you.

Andrew is running, bloodied with gashes in his clothes.  His blond hair is matted down and you’re not sure if it’s from blood or melted snow.  Wand extended, Andrew casts a shield charm to protect himself from the fire and waves of green curses.  His arm is looped through a short brunette’s, her wrists bound in goblin-forged silver cuffs. It’s Poppy, who is yelling at Andrew to avoid hurting the young dragon. Several breeders are chasing after them, firing curse after curse on Andrew’s heels. 

“A little help here!” Andrew roars, waving his arm the second he spots his colleagues.

The aurors break into action with little hesitation. Sebastian and Everett waste no time sprinting towards their partner. It feels like you’ve barely had a second to blink before the flashes of red and green start clashing around you.  Sebastian jumps to avoid a well-aimed shot, rolling to the ground before firing a countercurse at his attacker. His hair is covered in powdery snow, cheeks red from the cold as he fires off a defensive spell set.  You watch him, mouth agape, barely registering his voice calling out your name. 

“Get Poppy out of here!” Sebastian hollers. “Both of you, before the dragon circles back!”

Right, you think, shaking out of your stupor.  You run, feet slowed by the snow, towards your friend.  She grabs your hands as soon as you reach her, staring at you in a panic.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Poppy shrieks.

Over her shoulder, you can see one of the breeders teeing up a spell.  With ease, you raise a boulder from behind him to knock him down the hill.  In doing so, you’ve drawn attention to yourself, the other breeders realizing that you’re a bigger threat than anticipated.

“Here for you,” you assure her. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Poppy panics. “I got your letter, the morning they broke into my flat–”

“That’s the least important thing right now,” you screech, firing off a countercurse; the rebound is so strong, both of you are nearly knocked off your feet.

“But the baby!” Poppy shouts. “This isn’t safe!”

“Now is hardly the time to be scolding me,” you argue, panting as you channel your ancient magic to disintegrate one of your attackers. “The baby will be fine, I’m more worried about you!”

“What the bloody hell are you two talking about?”

Now you’ve really let the cat out of the bag, you think between spell combinations. You pause in place, braid whipping through the wind, to see Sebastian staring at you across the way.  His eyes are as wide as saucers, blinking rapidly as his mouth opens and shuts.

“Congratulations, guys!” Everett yells sarcastically, glasses now fully fogged from the fighting. “Think we can discuss this another time?”

“You’re pregnant?” Sebastian shrieks.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” you pant, dodging a curse, “but you’ve been gone, I only just found out the day before you left–”

“We have to get you out of here!” Sebastian panics, running towards you from across the field. “You’re pregnant!  This is unsafe!”

“We don’t have time for this conversation!” You roar, casting confringo on the poachers drawing near.

“Careful with the heat, it’ll be bad for the baby!” Sebastian chides, but you roll your eyes.

“You got me into this mess, Sallow!  Both messes, I might add.” You say through gritted teeth.  It’s true–he’s the one who got you pregnant in the first place, and then volunteered you to join a covert mission. Honestly, you might find his rapid shift in attitude hilarious if you weren’t being rained down upon by flames and curses.

“We had sex, is that bad for the baby?” Sebastian asks. “For him? Or her?  Oh Merlin, what if it’s a girl–”

“I’m sorry,” Everett raises a brow, sidestepping a diffindo that had been thrown his way. “The two of you were shagging last night when we were supposed to be preparing for a mission?”

“You two are disgusting!” Andrew spits, casting stupefy on his assailant. 

“Can someone please figure out a way to get me out of these cuffs?” Poppy roars, shaking her still shackled wrists. “And does anyone have my wand by any chance?”

You curse under your breath, wiggling Poppy’s wand out of your too-tight breeches. She grasps her wand with both hands, wincing as you channel your ancient magic into snapping the metal.  Her wrists are rubbed raw from spending weeks in chains, but she shakes them out as she reacquaints herself with her wand.

The sky goes dark again; the dragon circles in the air, flapping wings causing the entire battle to cease while everyone braces in the snow.  

“You need to get out of here,” Sebastian hisses. “I’m begging you–”

“And leave you here, with this lot and the dragon? Absolutely not.” you snap. “The father of my child needs to see another day.”

“Hello!” Everett screams. “There’s still a fight going on here, if the two of you haven’t– ouch !”

Both of you turn your heads to see Everett laying in the snow, groaning.  One of the breeders is stomping towards him, twirling his wand in hand.  Nostrils flared, you push Sebastian aside and aim your wand.  With barely even a flick, the man is thrown back against the snow, a disconcerting crack ringing through the air.

Not your boys , you think.  You plan to see all of these aurors back to London, alive and without injury.

“Poppy,” you yell, firing basic casts at the approaching breeders. “Can you secure the dragon?”

“Working on it!” Poppy’s voice is muffled, her wand between her teeth.  You can see her, your little firecracker of a friend, trying to scale the rocks to get closer to the dragon.  As the country’s leading expert on dragons, you hope she’ll have the dragon under control before long. She’s babbling towards the beast, cooing reassuring words as it snorts steam.

“Bertie, calm down.” You hear Poppy cluck at the dragon, her hands held high. “It’ll be alright–”

Andrew, who has foregone his wand, punches one of the breeders squarely in the nose. Shaking his hand out, he turns back to Poppy. “Bertie? Bertie, who you were droning on about while I was trying to rescue you, is the damn dragon?” he yells. “The one who was trying to kill us just a bit earlier?”

“I was alone!” Poppy shrieks back. “You try being alone with just dragons for two weeks, you would start naming them too!  And he was not trying to kill us, he’s just afraid–”

“Shut up!” Sebastian hollers. “Can you two behave?”

Sebastian is shouting at both Andrew and Poppy, and doesn’t see the breeder approaching from his left.  His arm is raised, a knowing smirk on his phase as he brandishes his wand at your fiance. Sebastian is too preoccupied with scolding his subordinate to notice the flickering red tip of the breeder��s wand, teeing up what you can only imagine is the cruciatus curse.

You don’t have time to shriek.  Instead, you feel your anger bubbling up through your fingertips, the telltale signs of your ancient magic starting to spill from your hands.  You’re running, wand arm raised, about to attack when you feel the wind knocked out of your lungs.  Your body betrays you, losing balance as you crumple to the snow with no control.  There’s a sharp ache in your head, ears ringing as you try to make sense of what’s going on. As if life is stuck in slow motion, you see a sizable boulder plop into the snow next to you.

A fucking rock.  You’ll be damned if you let a rock take you out.

Trying to stand, your knees buckle beneath you.  The sharp ache in your head starts pounding, and you can’t stop blinking your bleary eyes. Fingers grazing your temple, you’re shocked at the slippery sensation on your fingertips.  Droplets of bright red dot the pristine white snow, and despite your fuzzy vision, you can tell that it's your own blood on your hands.  

“Oh, shit.” you slur.

It feels like you’re underwater (a sensation you know well from the Keeper’s trials during your fifth year).  Things are slower, soupier almost.  You can see Sebastian’s head turn when another auror shouts at him, and he narrowly misses a flurry of red bolts aimed at him from one of the attackers.  Skidding in the snow, Sebastian fires a counter curse that knocks the breeder off the edge of the cliff.

Someone is shouting your name, and Sebastian turns his head.  You think you’ll remember the look of horror on his face forever, a twisted grimace as he dashes towards you.  You want to sit up, but your body says otherwise–your head is pounding, and perhaps it’ll feel better if you sleep.  Sebastian is patting your cheeks with cold hands, repeating your name like a prayer as you hear the commotion ensue behind the two of you.

“Stay with me,” Sebastian pleads. “I’m sorry–”

You don’t hear anything after that. 

When you open your eyes, you’re in St. Mungo’s.  Specifically, the intensive care unit, your own ward.

“What the hell?” you mumble, leaning up on your elbows.

“Oh thank Merlin, you’re awake.” Sebastian sighs with relief.  You turn to look at the brunette next to you–his head is in his hands, dark waves unkempt and tangled from sleep. His beard is the longest you’ve ever seen it, shaggy and uncombed. After taking in a deep breath, he launches himself to your bed, fingers pressed against your pulse.  Once he’s determined that you are in fact well, he presses a firm kiss to your forehead.

“Is the–”

“The baby is alright,” Sebastian smiles. “Healers have been checking on you two probably twice an hour for the last two days.”

“Two days?” you gape. “I’ve been out for two days?”

“It was a nasty hit.” Sebastian shudders. “I was so worried about you, I haven’t been able to sleep,” he admits.  The chair next to you has become his little nest; bundles of blankets are tossed on the floor, a hospital grade pillow squished into the back of the chair.

“What happened?” you wince as you sit up. Sebastian immediately places more pillows behind your back, handing you a cup of water from the night stand. “Is everyone alright?”

“Everyone is alright,” Sebastian assures you. “Everett broke his arm, but that was quick to mend.  Andrew looked like a champion prizefighter, that’s for sure.  I think he likes the black eye, he thinks it makes him a bit more popular amongst the ladies at the pub.”

“And Poppy?” You ask between gulps. Merlin, you really must have been out for two days–you’re positively parched.  Before you can set the cup down, Sebastian casts aguamenti and you’re happily sipping once more.

“Safe and healthy.” Sebastian promises. “Let’s just say Bertie the dragon really bonded with Poppy while they were imprisoned together.  He made quick work of the breeders.”

You blink at your fiance, brows furrowed as you try to make sense of his comment.  When he bares his teeth and clicks his jaw open and shut, you cover your mouth with your hands.

“He ate them?” you gape. 

“Well, it was us or the breeders.” Sebastian scoffs. “Better them than me.”

“I suppose that’s why the dragon was chasing after Andrew,” you muse. “He thought Andrew was trying to kidnap Poppy, not save her.”

“Spot on.” Sebastian laughs. “Speaking of, there are some people who’d like to see you.”

The door opens, and your friends spill through the door as if they’ve been waiting right outside the entire time.  The normally stoic Anne runs to you, clutching your forearm. Ominis stands over her, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head.  

“I can’t believe the two of you.” Ominis shakes his head. “Battling a dragon in the first trimester.”

Sebastian furrows his brow. “Hey–I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”

“And I would’ve gone regardless.” You declare, pulling Sebastian’s hand into your own.

Andrew, Everett, and Poppy file into the room after your sister and brother-in-law. Everett has his arm in a sling, while Andrew still looks like hell.  Poppy has a few bandages on her hands, but she easily slides down at your side next to Anne.  The brunette girl gives you a teary eyed smile, mouthing her thanks.

“First mission and you get taken out by a damn boulder.” Andrew laughs.  His knuckles are bruised and cut, black eye starting to go green around the edges. “I thought you’d be an asset to the team, but you ended up a liability.”

“Oh shush,” you wave him off, pressing your hand to the soft edge of your belly. “You needed me.”

“That we did,” Everett says softly, squeezing your hand. “Thank you.  I would’ve been clobbered off the cliff if it weren’t for you.”

“I can’t believe you volunteered to come along pregnant.” Andrew blurts. “Are you insane?”

“It was for Poppy.” You admit, winking at your favorite magizoologist. “I’d do anything for her.”

“Well, I must demand that you start relaxing.” Poppy declares. “You shouldn’t lift a finger for the rest of your pregnancy.  If Sallow volunteers you for any missions, Bertie will take his head–you have my word.”

“Rest assured she won’t be doing anything but relaxing from now on.” Sebastian says firmly, crossing his arms. “I’ve already had a discussion with the ward matron about your leave of absence–”

You hold your hand up. “Sebastian, I’m not going to stop working. You know that.”

“You’re going to take a few weeks off to rest,” Sebastian continues. “Trust me, the matron told me they’ve had enough of your puking.”

You lick your lips, eyes roving the room as you take in the scene.  It’s all of your favorite people in one room, the people your child will know best.  You imagine your child growing up with them–visits from Aunt Poppy and her wild beasts, dinners with Andrew and Everett. You swallow thickly imagining Anne and Ominis doting over your newborn, and tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you tired?” Sebastian’s voice brings you back down to ear, his gentle murmur in your ear.

You nod, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll all be off, then.” Ominis announces. “Anne and I will get started on planning your elopement.”

You wipe at your eyes, which are now properly tearing up. “You don’t need to plan our wedding.” You let out a watery laugh.

“You’ll have the best wedding.” Anne assures you. “Certainly better than ours; I still remember Sebastian’s dates fighting on the dance floor–”

“I think that’s a story for another time,” Sebastian interjects hastily. “My wife is tired, she should get some rest.”

The motley crew files out of your hospital room, each promising to follow up with you in the days to come.  Ominis has to practically tear Anne away from you, your sister-in-law spouting questions about wedding cakes while her husband pushes her out the door.  He winks an unseeing eye at the two of you, his best friends, before the door clicks shut.

Immediately, Sebastian is climbing into your bed, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“We’re having a baby.” Sebastian says softly, his large palm flattening over your belly. “You’re having our baby.”

“We’re having a baby.” You echo, turning to him in the bed.  The hospital beds at St. Mungo’s aren’t big by any means, and Sebastian will have a backache if he sleeps with you–but it doesn’t look like he’s planning on going anywhere.

Sebastian’s eyes are trained on you, hungrily taking in every detail of your face. “I can’t wait,” he garbles out, eyes watery. “You’re giving me a family.  Gods, I’ll never be able to make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?” You ask gently, pressing a palm to his cheek.  Tears start streaming down his face, sniffling his freckled nose.

“For everything . Dragging you into a mission with a fucking dragon,” Sebastian laughs. “For tackling you on the mountain. Being gone for nearly two weeks, not giving you the opportunity to tell me.  For wasting so much time–for not making you my wife earlier. Merlin, if I hadn’t been such a bonehead five, six years ago, things could’ve been so different–”

You press a fingertip to his lips. “I won’t have them any other way,” you whisper. “I’m so happy. You’re happy, aren’t you? You’re not upset?”

Sebastian laughs harder, shaking his head. “I couldn’t be happier. I’m going to be a father.” he says gleefully. “How could I possibly be upset?”

You chew on your lower lip. “The night I meant to tell you, you said something about us waiting until after the wedding. And at the inn, you seemed so worried that we’d be boring once we had a baby. Rather thought I was ruining your plans for us.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I can't believe I ruined the surprise.  Darling, I was being an absolute cad that night; I can't believe I didn't see it coming.  You'd made my favorite dinner, and I turned it down for a sausage roll.” he says dramatically, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry about what I said at the inn. Pet, you and I could never be boring. Not while we’re together.”

“And you’ll be okay getting married earlier?” you ask nonchalantly, drawing circles on his chest. “Even if it wrecks our plans for a spring wedding?”

“I’ll marry you tomorrow if you let me.” Sebastian murmurs. “Fuck the plans. The only thing that matters to me is our family.”

You pull Sebastian into a hug, face nuzzling into his beard. He’s whispering into your ear–promising to shave his beard, to finish the flooring in the second bedroom as soon as he’s back home. He’ll take a few weeks off now that this case is over, and perhaps he’ll apply for low-risk cases now that he’s a father. He talks about your wedding, about how you can still get married in the center of Feldcroft if he can conjure enough tents.

Your eyelids are drooping, head resting against his chest when you think back to the topic of weddings. 

“Earlier when Anne was talking about her and Ominis’s wedding–you had two dates?” you ask sleepily. “What was that about?”

Sebastian lets out a roar of a laugh, pressing his lips against your hair. “A story for another time.  It’ll make you laugh, I promise.” he assures you. “I’ll tell you when you wake up.”

You nod, shutting your eyes.  Tucked into Sebastian’s arms, you fall asleep against his chest.

[triluvial]

(not really a fic sorry just some thoughts on exploring this idea)

Feyd assumption that he's going to chew up and spit out his new bride is first challenged when she seems super chill about his harpies. She isn't even scared of him.

He asks her again later that night when all the wedding guests have left. Apparently, she doesn't mind extra members in their marriage. That's when his paranoia about a secret lover begins. It only grows from there. He's investigating every man and woman his wife meets with, but finds nothing. He hears voices in her room at night but sees no one when he bursts in, frantic.

He doesn't even love his wife (yet), this started as possessiveness and has spiraled into an all-consuming obsession.

And he could have continued like that until the harpies he had been neglecting since his wedding night get stroppy with him. They're hungry and bored. It's fine, Feyd can handle himself, but it stops being fine when his sweet wife enters the room and the three cannibals turn on her. Two of them know their place but the third one does not.

Her head is gone in moments. Too fast to even really see what happened to it. The rest of the body crumples to the floor like wet tissue.

"Everyone says the people here are full of chemicals, this is why I didn't want you to eat anyone, are you okay, Abyss?" Feyd's wife, no longer sweet, asks, stroking a tentacle that looks like the texture of his uncle's bathwater that has emerged from her back.

"S̴̱̒͘p̶̋i̶̽cy̵̬͈̔̕." The monster - Abyss - says back. It grins with far, far too many teeth. Feyd's never been more excited.

Just putting this out there since I haven’t really seen it yet but would someone please write a feyd x venom symbiote host reader. I have no writing skill but I would love to read how others think this would play out. Like imagine just biting the heads off of his harpies when they piss you off and he’s surprised/ impressed.

Btw I’m not good at tagging things or people so apologies for that.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Witness

"Specimen '873 is starting to disappoint me. He was showing such promise. These numbers, however?" My keeper muttered to himself, distaste painting his face as he watched the feed in front of him. "Unacceptable for a battle class. He might as well be spare biomass at this point."

He was supposed to be wearing his glasses, not holding them. They may have been called "reading" glasses? But they were not, technically, just for that. They also had a blue light filter. Helped with headaches and eyestrain. He just hated wearing them because he thought they made him look old.

A God Forbid ANYTHING remind him of the passage of time.

He did NOT take it kindly.

I managed to avoid THAT landmine by virtue of having witnessed his receiving them. An "incident" that resulted in his head slamming against a screen. Protocol demanded he get checked. In the process, they discovered his eye sight was declining. It was a... bad day. I brought him things to break and stayed very, very quiet.

He bounced back fairly quickly, though. Once the arrogant researcher who had arranged for the incident to even OCCUR? Tried to come lord his "weakened old man" status over him. It was one thing to "accidently" let the battle class get unfettered access to weapons before loyalty train. But to be dumb enough to step into his lab, call him weak, and gloat about it?

Dr. Raghnall Periculum was many things.

But "unwilling to bludgeon a man to death with the nearest object" was not one of them.

He was dangerous like that. Murderous. It came and went like shifting storms, all you could really do was learn to read the triggers. Get good at knowing when to back up. When to hold really, REALLY still. After all... this was a lawless, immoral place. No one here could or WOULD stop him.

They were all just as bad.

Gritty Sci-Fi Otome games are... a lot less fun to LIVE. To be honest? They are actually pretty horrifying. Traumatizing, really. Hellish. As in, I am pretty sure this is a futuristic version Of Hell (but that is a personal opinion). I regret EVER playing a single damn one. But... BUT? I CLING to the knowledge I gained from it. So I can not regret it completely. Because through them? Through KNOWING this world?

I KNOW this will end. KNOW we will be free. That these monsters will pay for what they've done. The epilog promises a golden age. A beautiful, peaceful dawn after this long and terrible night, filled with horrors. I just... I just have to survive. Hold on. Keep my head down and pray.

I may be trapped in hell, but I'm not broken.

We will be Free.

I have SEEN IT.

Sometimes the greatest defiance is just refusing to die. Just keeping hope alive. I... I can do that. May not be able to fight my way out. Not smart enough to hack or sabotage these nightmares. But I can stay alive. I... I can do that. Bear witness, that someday I may stand against them in trial. Record. So no one is forgotten.

It doesn't feel like enough. I feel tired and angry. Hateful and small. But for the sake of my sanity? I make myself feel nothing. Compartmentalize. I've... I've become unfortunately quite good at it. Good at a lot of terrible things. Like placating. Making myself small. Being invisible. A retail smile. Being one with the furniture.

See, just like the poor souls on the screens in front of him? I'm a Clone. Of who? I have no idea. None of us do. They use old DNA databases. From when it was first commercially available, I think. Like those ancestry tests. Here it was squirrelled away, kept for later use. Which... was us.

My template has been dead for centuries, I think. Or perhaps? She would have considered herself my mother? I hope she would have, strange as I turned out to be. We are all children of the dead. It'd be nice to think they'd have wanted us.

Dr. Periculum's cup lifts lightly as he take a drink, more focused on his work then anything else. That heft is about midway point. I've discovered if I begin brewing now, it will be done by the time his cup is empty and he wants more. A glance at the closest screen gives me the time. Food too, is a good idea.

He likely won't eat it. But if it's there? The chances are higher. And when he comes out of his focus, it'll be available. Less chance of him getting irritated by hunger.

On a well practiced route through piles of notes and projects I know better then to touch, I quietly make my way to the coffee machine. Begin another round of abomination the caffeine tar. It is, quite honestly, a wonder he hasn't accused me of trying to poison him to a heart attack.

A few granules of salt, a bit of cinnamon, some expensive fatty creamer, aaaand? There. Unholy bitterness gone. "Just" a cup of liquid tar so potent it could make a rhino taste time.

I also grab one of the meat pies and put it on a little paper plate.

Ah... what has my life become? That I am so well practiced in make snacks for a monster? Picking them up, I don't dare answer that. That way lies madness. Don't think about it. It can wash out in therapy. After. Because there WILL be an After. There HAS to be an After.

Careful steps and...? Just as I estimated. He just ran out. I nearly silently tap the paper plate down to the edge of the table then slide it forward, with-in ease of reach, but not too close. Then I swap the cups. Go to step away. Only to freeze. As, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of his hands briefly leave his keyboard to make a nearly dismissive "one moment" gesture.

Stay put. Don't move. I'll address you when I'm done with my, more important, thoughts. I feel the flash of fear, of panic, but let it go. There is nothing I can do. I will be hurt or I won't be hurt. There is no use suffering twice, through speculation and fear, I remind myself. Force my mind empty and pleasant. Retail smile. Happy to serve.

He finishes. Leans back, dissatisfied with some project or other, and finally slips on his glasses. Gestures imperiously for the cup in my hands. I do not question of course, merely hand it to him. He takes it, passes it to his other hand, and sets it aside. Then, casually, leans slightly over and wraps a thickly muscled arm around my waist. Dragging me off my feet and into his lap.

"You know, girl? B-21873 really was, actually quite promising. I was starting to think I'd keep him. Decent speed, good stamina, excellent problem solving. His test scoring was exceeding all expectations. Really thought I might have gotten you a little friend to play with. A gaurd so I could send you out on some chores safely. But no, he just HAD to be a failure." He said, leaning forward to grab his cup.

I was crushed awkwardly close. Could feel every moment. Acutely aware of his woody and sea air cologne, the coffee on his breath as words were spoken far to close, the beating of a heartbeat I could feel against my arm. Hyper aware of him. Why was I in his lap? This felt dangerous. I should not be in his lap.

Between sips, he turned his head and pressed his lips to my temple, not kissing... somehow worse. Just... just breathing me in. Slow, deliberate, and deep. Like savoring a scent, a sensation. The subtle back and forth, as though rubbing his lips against my hair. Enjoying the feeling against sensitive skin. It could almost be a cuddle on any other man. It took everything I had not to shudder.

"Unlike you of course. You pet, could never disappoint me. If these rejects tried even half as hard as my perfect darling girl? The world'd be a better place." He paused his almost nuzzling. To simply rest his head against mine, pulling off his glasses so he could tuck his head closer. His breathe was hot against my ear. His voice gravel and distain as it spoke of others.

"It's disgusting. Like they don't even try. We spend countless resources breeding, feeding, and training them... for what? Failure? I'm starting to think those bastards are deliberately sending me bad specimens."

Every word he said was horrifying. I could not cry. Dare not. But my heart screamed for those poor souls. They were just kids. Trapped in hell. Tortured from birth. Disposed of when they no longer met some arbitrarily impossible anime standard. If I turned my head, even slightly, I KNEW, I would be faced with screens of untold suffering. Feeds of "testing". So called training. Autopsy reports and datapoints.

Lists of who... who had been deemed "not good enough".

Who were scheduled to become "recycled biomass".

But if I looked? I would weep for them. And that? That was dangerous right now. Right NOW? I had to be pleasant company. A child's doll to be dragged around. No thoughts, no differing opinions. Preferably no opinions at ALL. Just warm and huggable. Soft. A beloved pet who serves coffee and brings things when told. Endure. I just... I must simply ENDURE.

The night will end. Dawn will come. Believe in her.

J-Just empty your head... and Believe In Her.

An alert pops up. I can hear it on a screen somewhere behind me. Dr. Periculum turns his head to look, reaching for his snack. Freezes. Then, a sharp bark of laughter. It's violent, like the strike of a lightning bolt, jostling me. The ones that follow just as harsh. He's not a man that laughs often. And it's not a kind sound.

Filled with schadenfreude, his laughter is like the vicious barks of hunting hounds. The shots of a weapon. A short and harsh to the ears sound, over and over. Delight in the suffering of an enemy. The fall of a rival. It strikes through his body like seizures. Making him lean forward to read. Brace against the desk, tighten his grip around me, widen the brace of his legs.

Glancing up, his eyes are alight with manic glee. His grin is vicious.

He looks Feral.

"Well, well, WELL! What do we have HERE?! Is that Jack ANDERSON'S facility I see? Mr. 'Master of the genome' himself? Looks like SOMEONE got AHEAD of themselves! Ha!" Raghnall cackles spinning his chair so I can see the screen. Leaning back to grab his cup and toast with it. "Look what we have here, pet! Some fucking KARMA! I knew that little shit wasn't worth the paper his degree was printed on! See this? THIS is what happens when you can't control your own damn compound!"

"Rest in PIECES, you worthless little SHIT!"

I sat. Frozen. As Dr. Periculum laughed and laughed, his mood viciously pleased. Because... because I recognized that facility. Chapter Two. There was an animation that played. The... the BREAKOUT! Joy filled me. Like the first rays of dawn. That was HER. S-she was OUT! Free! She DID it! Oh god... oh god she was COMING! It had finally BEGUN!

I caught myself. Barely.

My eyes felt a bit wet so I disguised it with a fake yawn. I dare not show empathy. NEVER show empathy. Keep it guarded like diamonds in your chest. If he thought, for even a moment, that I empathized with anyone but him. CARED about anyone but him? They wouldn't last the hour.

And it would be the longest, cruelest, hour in existence, as they died.

You make that sort of mistake exactly ONCE.

"Ah~ todays a GOOD day. And you know what we should do?" He hummed, nearly a coo as he spun us almost lazily around on his chair. In whimsical circles like a bored child. "We should celebrate. Ding dong, the fuckers dead~ HA HA! Not to mention? It's been entirely too long, pet, since I've spoiled you rotten. We should get a cake, hmm? You want a cake? Lil treat? Sweet lil treat for my girl?"

"I could get you that new dress I've been looking at. Bet you'll look like a classy lil princess, won't that be nice? Can even make it match the trackers I'm finishing up! No more uncomfy collars when we go out! Just pretty lil bracelets, ain't that nice?"

I force myself to smile. Nod. Ignore the fear and anger, the humiliation and helplessness. It's not time yet. Bid your time. You will LOSE your chance for True Freedom if you give in to your anger. Your hurt. Patience, THEN strike. Remember! Chapter two! There are FIVE.

It is COMING.

He stopped spinning, planting his feet on the floor. His manic grin softening. No less unhinged, less full of teeth, but perhaps the closest a man like him could come to loving. His eyes obsessive as the roam my face. Cataloging everything.

"You know, pet? You really might be might greatest creation. Best thing I've ever made or done. Anyone wants you? They'd have to pry you from my cold, dead hands. I'd burn EVERYTHING down. Kill just about EVERYONE." His voice was the sort of whispered confession meant for churches, not the heart of this hell he had built. It felt unholy. Dangerous.

Exactly like him.

"Once I figure how to take humanity to it's next stage? Reverse aging? Heck, even stop it. I promise, pet. Gonna take you with me. You're coming along for the ride. Straight to the end. Heat death of the universe. Well become GODS, pet. Live forever and a day. Bet you can't wait, huh?"

"Don't worry. The futures going be BEAUTIFUL. Just you wait."

[smurphyse]

Angel | Spencer Reid

Smurph’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Chapter 17 of Operation: Sand Leopard

Warnings: canon typical stories, Christmas visits, crying, happy hugs fear, espionage, confessions

Summary: Spencer arrives in America and struggles to sleep. You finally tell Alijah who Angel really is.

The flight to Anacostia-Bolling air base in DC was agonizingly long, and somehow seemed longer than the flight to Iraq. 

The unit met their families at the hangar- Garrett with his four daughters and much more handsome husband than Spencer expected, Morello with his son and pregnant wife, Peanut with her mother and three younger siblings, and Barretti with his parents. 

Spencer hadn't told the BAU he was coming home. He wanted to surprise them tomorrow at Rossi’s house for their pre-Christmas dinner. 

He took a cab through familiar streets to his familiar apartment, flurries swirling around until he was standing outside the building in the December snow and gazing up at it curiously. Everything looked the same, but he knew as he stood there that he no longer was. Iraq had changed him, and with his gunny pack on one shoulder and his dog tags hanging around his neck, he was out of place. 

It was late, the entranceway dark and gloomy as the stairs loomed ominously before him. It was a journey in itself walking up them, taking a trip into the not so distant past but feeling as though he'd aged ten years. As he got to his floor he stood in front of his door, chewing on his cheek. 

He was an intruder in the night, slinking into a place he shouldn't be, a place he didn't belong. 

Sliding the key in the lock, the familiar smell of aged books and leather plumed on the other side. He opened the door and flicked on the lights, furrowing his brows at the sight. 

His old couch stood in the same place, his desk and record player in one corner. Books were scattered all around, on shelves and tables and the floor. The lamps glowed dimly in the small place, but it was much bigger than he felt comfortable with. He missed his CHU. 

Spencer sighed as he shut and locked the door behind him. He kicked a few books aside as he made his way to the bedroom, tossing his gunny pack at the foot of the bed and falling face first into the mattress. 

He didn't even take off his boots as he curled up, staring at the window through to the cityscape outside. The sounds of Bombaconda gave way to honking horns and sirens, gunfire and IEDs washed away with the far off desert. With horror, Spencer realized he missed the sounds of baselife. 

He also missed you, curled up next to him and sweating in the night. It was cold and dark here, a far cry from the Iraqi heat and blazing sun. Spencer closed his eyes and tried to imagine your sticky warmth bleeding through his cargos and cotton tee, the scent of your flowery perfume and sweat, your hair tickling his nose. 

But you were six thousand, one hundred ninety eight and a half miles away, probably just waking up in your CHU and going about your day without your team. He wondered if you'd gone to the DFAC with Mercer, or if you sat alone in your trailer instead. He almost hoped you went to the DFAC. 

He was restless, tossing and turning as he struggled to get comfortable. At first he thought it was the heavy blanket, so with a grunt Spencer threw it on the floor, but it didn't work. 

The fan above Spencer's head was still, so he turned it on, but the soft hum was too quiet compared to the constant whirring of the pop vent in his CHU. Spencer even threw his pillows from the bed, but an hour later he still couldn't sleep. 

Then your voice came to the surface, tired and weary all those months ago when you muttered in the dimming light. 

It gets better. You get used to all the noises, and when you go home you'll find that's when you can't sleep. The city's too quiet, the bed's too soft, the food has too much flavor. 

Spencer hated how you were always right. 

Groaning as he sat up, Spencer ambled off the bed and got down on the carpet. Stuffing one of the errant pillows under his head, his eyes drooped as he watched the fan some more. 

Your smirk flashed before him just before he hit the dark undertow of sleep, and Spencer ended his long day the way he started it. 

Grinning like a fiend. 

You didn't sleep a wink. 

Instead, you spent all night with Mercer at the bonfire pit, letting the crackle of the flames drown out your planning and whispers in the night. 

You were exposed, and who knew how many of your team's missions were queueing up to be used against you. Your greatest fear had come true, that once more your future would slip from your grasp. 

You weren't going to let that happen. Not this time. 

"Why do you come to see me?"

You looked up from your spot on the floor, only to see Alijah watching you expectantly. Your heart swelled painfully in your chest every time you looked at her. 

Since deciding a few months ago you were going to adopt Alijah and Sivan, you'd been coming to visit again. You started slow, only coming a few times a week, and now you came every day. Your plan had changed…again. 

Instead of playing the good cop bad cop with her, you were going to earn her trust the way Teddy and Spencer had, simply by talking to her. If she was going to come home with you, she needed to see you as Teddy had presented you. As a mother, a friend, someone to lean on. 

You clicked your teeth and shrugged, "Maybe I like you, Alijah."

She squinted at you, "I said I don't like you."

You smiled, her English had improved so much because of Spencer. Pride poured through your soul, flooding you with a fierce protectiveness you were more than happy to have return. 

"That's okay."

Alijah leaned back against the wall and continued her little scrunched up squinting, "I like you a little now."

"Okay," you said quietly. 

"When will you let me see Teddy again?" she asked in a small voice, looking to you hopefully. 

You sighed and glanced down at your hands, "Alijah, you can't see Teddy again."

"Is he dead?"

When you met her dark gaze, she had her arms crossed protectively over her small chest. Feeling brave, you got up enough to move to the cot, sitting next to her and leaning against the wall yourself. 

She seemed to understand, her chin wobbling as she began to cry. Alijah dropped her head in her hands as a sob broke free, shattering your heart. You reached out slowly and wrapped your arm around her shoulders, and when she let you pull her to your chest tears of your own began to spill down your cheeks. 

Setting your jaw on her covered head, you whispered tearfully, "I'm sorry. He's not coming back."

"What happened?" Alijah burst out in Kurdish. She wept in your arms, her small desperate hands clinging to you to ground her. 

"It was an accident," you replied back in her mother tongue, your voice trembling. You lied to her. She didn't need to know. "He was a soldier. Things happen."

Alijah pulled back, her watery eyes wide. "What about Angel?"

Was it the time to tell her? Would it ever be? Sighing, you leaned over to the last Redwall book in the pile near her cot. The rest of them nearly tumbled over as you tugged it away. With shaky hands, you flipped it open to the back cover and handed it to her. 

She took it cautiously. You watched nervously as she read the words you'd written there so long ago, when all you wanted was to welcome this poor child into a happy home with you and Teddy. 

Alijah,

I wish I could have gone on this journey with you. Maybe by the time you finish these books you'll already be home with me, and we'll have finished them together. I've spent years reading and rereading these words, countless hours hunched over the paper and drinking in each sweet line. These books showed me the wonder of the world, that while destiny is important… We make our own ways in life. 

You're going to do great things. My sweet girl, I cannot wait to hold you in my arms and know that you're safe with me. I love you already. I always will. 

Xoxo, Y/N

Aka Angel <3

You'd drawn a heart next to your name in a last ditch flourish to come across as a mother. In truth, you'd been so nervous to be one, but the closer it came the more you'd solidified it in your mind. You would have done anything for Alijah. You still would. 

She looked up slowly from the book, a flurry of emotions raging behind her dark eyes. Tears stained my cheeks as you watched her back. Regret coursed through your veins. 

"I came back to Iraq for you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "After Teddy died… I didn’t want to love you anymore, but I did. I do. This is the only way I knew how to protect you.

"When I found out about Sivan, I knew I needed to get to her before bringing you home," you finished tearfully, struggling to continue to look her in the eyes. But you kept strong. "I'm going to get you home. I'm sorry I had to keep you here, Alijah. I'm so sorry that I did this to you."

Alijah closed the book, holding it on her lap. Her jaw worked as she thought long and hard about this revelation. Her eyes searched the charged air between us as she followed her train of thought. Finally, she opened her mouth. 

"I don't think I will ever forgive you."

Your heart shattered into a million pieces, but you understood. You nodded slowly, "I'm still going to take you home. I will make sure you're safe, but…"

You trailed off with your mind churning. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes to calm the shaking deep in your bones. When you opened them, you knew they blazed, as Alijah seemed taken aback by the fire there. 

"I have a plan, and I need your help. If it works, we'll get the funding to go find Sivan and bring you to the States. As much as you don't like me, I need you to trust me. To trust Spencer. It all hinges on you and him."

Her own gaze turned fierce. When her hand rubbed over her empty belly, a thunderous crack burst through your core in grief. 

"I trust Spencer. Tell me what I need to do."

Spencer finally woke about ten hours later, struggling to remember where he was. Grunting in pain after sleeping on a hard floor in his forties, he squirmed onto his belly until he could see the alarm clock. 

6:56 p.m.

He was running late. Dinner started at Rossi's at seven. Scrambling to his feet, Spencer kicked off his boots, shucked his clothes, and hopped in the shower. The hot water had much better pressure than his CHU, and he closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of it beating his muscles until they eased up. 

When he opened them, he spotted his old shampoo and conditioner bottles, his body wash from four months ago still sitting in the same spot he'd left them the morning he left for Iraq. It was such a strange feeling, familiar but off. Like he didn't belong here and was showering at some strangers. 

He popped one open and sniffed it, flinching at the harsh scent of cinnamon. He'd only brought along his cologne to Iraq as they frowned on outside products except for a few. Making a face, Spencer stepped out of the shower and tossed it in the bin and went for his gunny pack for the scentless ones he'd bought at the post exchange and went back in. 

When he was finished, he got out and stood in a towel in front of his closet. Four months ago, his soft silks and expensive blend clothing had soothed his raging mind as he got often overwhelmed with clothing tags and scratchy fabrics. Now, when he touched them, they were too soft. He felt naked with them, so he opted for a pair of cargo pants and a black tee, and a coat for the DC winter. 

Spencer had at least the forethought to charge his long dead cell phone, knowing you had his number and wanted to call. He stuffed it in one of his thousand pockets, grabbing his Homeland badge, then his gun. 

He was almost at the door before he put it safely back in the nightstand. He wouldn't be needing it here. 

The city was alive with people making last minute trips to shops as his cab ambled along through the night. Lamplight flooded the streets, washing them all in a white yellow glow. He found himself missing the bright harsh lights of the base, as these didn't let him see too far into the night. 

Spencer paid the cabbie and walked up Rossi's front walkway. His hand touched the doorknob, spotting everyone's cars in the driveway. He knew this mansion by heart now, the way it sprawled along Rossi's expansive land, but he felt so out of place. 

Should he knock? Knowing the team they might be offended if he showed such little familiarity, so he softly turned it and stepped inside. Voices echoed along the marble as he came in like an intruder in the night, his anxiety only growing under his skin. 

Walking quietly so his heavy boots didn't thump along the hardwood, Spencer made his way through the kitchen and to the dining room. The voices grew louder, and he adjusted his pack nervously on his shoulder. He turned the corner to see a welcome sight before him. 

JJ, Will, and the kids sat on one end of the room with Garcia and Luke, who were of course nearly draped across one another. Emily and Tara laughed into their wine glasses before a mountain of food and ham. Matt, his wife and kids sat near JJ's family. Even Morgan was there with Savannah and Hank. Rossi sat with his back to him, but none seemed to notice him. 

He knocked lightly on the doorframe, "Room for one more?"

Silence fell over the room as they finally spotted him with jaws dropped. Then a chorus of cheers broke out through the room.

"Oh my god!" Garcia burst finally, jumping up from her chair. In an instant, everyone seemed to launch from their spots and surround him, and he was in a group hug he hadn't had in a long, long time. 

He tried not to let it overwhelm him, as he hadn't been touched this much in a while. There were a lot of tears and happy laughs, and soon enough he was deposited in a chair next to Rossi and Emily. JJ piled a lot of food on a plate in her maternal fashion, pushed a fork and knife in his hands and ordered him to eat. 

Your words came back to him again as he took his first bite of ham, the food has too much flavor. Spencer choked it down with a forced smile, but it was almost too much. 

"How long are you back?" Garcia nearly demanded, her eyes alight with worry. Everyone's eyes were trained on him, and it was all he had not to wilt under the weight. 

"I'm leaving the twenty-seventh."

"You're going back?" JJ asked quietly. Hurt washed over her, but he just nodded. 

"I'm doing good work over there. Plus, I actually like it," he replied softly, but with conviction. He didn't need them trying to convince him to stay. 

Morgan came up behind him and set a heavy pair of hands on his shoulders, "I can't believe it. Pretty boy became a soldier, and look at this hair!"

He ruffled Spencer's long locks, which he admitted to himself were getting too far past his shoulders. Spencer decided to throw JJ a bone since she used to cut his hair for him as he didn't like strangers touching him. "Speaking of which, could you give me a trim before I go?"

"Didn't want a flat top?" Luke smirked. He leaned back in his chair with his arm around Penelope's. "The barber shops on base don't give the best cuts."

"Yeah, the last thing I wanted was to look like Garrett," he told them sheepishly. "Guy wears that thing like a badge of honor."

"What all have you been doing over there?" Tara asked lightly. Thankfully, she hadn't bombarded him with too many hugs and kisses. Tara was always good about respecting his boundaries. 

"I can't talk about much, but I've seen a lot. Speaking of which, I got you all something!" Spencer excitedly remembered. He hadn't shipped his Christmas presents since he wanted his visit to be a surprise. 

They eventually moved to the parlor, opening presents and chatting idly. Emily gave him some sparkling grape juice that the kids drank since he didn't drink alcohol, and JJ clung tightly to his side, never letting him too far out of her sight as though he may disappear. 

Spencer told them a bit about base life, which Luke backed him up on, taking the sting out of some of the harsher realities of it when Spencer accidentally let something slip. He talked about the villages and merchant streets he'd been to, the mountains he'd seen. He even lamented about having to go to the bathroom outside and how grateful he was for Barreti and his spare teepee. 

He talked about the unit. He talked about you. He couldn't talk about Alijah, so he didn't. He told them how hard you were on him, pushing him to be better and stronger, that you never let up. You had high expectations, and even though it had been difficult to meet them, he would never stop trying to exceed them. 

Eventually he found himself in one of the rooms with just Derek, Rossi, Luke and Will. Savannah and JJ had taken the kids to bed for the night, but Matt and his family had to travel out of state so they'd left early while the rest of them expected to stay at Rossi's overnight. 

"I'll tell you what, kid," Rossi mumbled into his scotch. They'd all been drinking pretty heavily for the last few hours, and it was nearing midnight. "They didn't have bases like that when I was in the Corps. The desert? We were in the jungle mostly. It's a whole new world out there."

"It's not so bad," Spencer replied with a soft smile. He was the only sober one there, and he kept anxiously checking his phone for your call. 

"It's called Bombaconda, Reid," Morgan pointed out, angling his beer bottle toward him. "Weren't you scared out there?"

Spencer and Luke shared a knowing look as he'd been there before joining the FBI. Spencer nodded, "At first, but with the unit I was fine. I got into a fight my first week with that jackass Mercer who took me to the DoD meetings and his team, and they backed me up even though they barely knew me."

"You got into a fight?" Luke asked, clearly impressed. 

Spencer chuckled, "I didn't throw the first punch, but I dislocated my nose. Agent Y/N put it back for me after chewing them all out."

"Since then, it's just been us all working together. I feel like we all bonded a lot after all we've gone through. I trust them with my life."

"You have to in a place like that. If you can't trust your team, who can you trust?" Rossi agreed. "There's very few bonds as strong as a unit's. I still talk with mine from Vietnam."

"Do you know when you're coming back for good?" Morgan asked. "Everyone misses you."

Spencer felt caught suddenly, because he didn't even really want to come back. He wanted to stay with you and the unit for as long as it took. He clicked his teeth and sighed, "I don't know… Y/N and I are working on something big. When it's finished, she's retiring. I'm not coming home until we're done."

"She's real pretty," Rossi chuckled, and Luke made a face like he did over video calls each time someone called you hot, like you were his sister. "You like this girl?"

Heat rushed to his cheeks, but he was powerless to hide the smile that cracked open on his sunburned face. Spencer nodded, "I do actually. It's… new, but we talked and when we get back we want to try being together. I don't know if it'll work out, but I really hope it does."

He didn't tell them he loved you. He didn't want a lecture. 

Eventually, they all turned in for the night. Spencer was growing worried, as you still hadn't called. It would be mid morning for you by the time he nestled into his spot on Rossi's couch, giving everyone else their own rooms with their partners and kids. 

But sleep wanted to take him, and he couldn't stop it. The exhaustion of the last days and months caught up to him now that he was home with his family, but his dreams were filled with you and Alijah, of Sivan and his image of her from the locket. 

He dreamed of a future, a life.

Together. 

Notes: *GASP*What do you think reader's plan is???

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[universalhoneycakes]

Henlooo!

Made a doodle for a possible upcoming fic I'm making. I'm thinking of calling it Cereal for Dessert?

Still working out a lot of it, so it will probably take a bit. If you wanna know more, feel free to ask! I will try to answer what I can.

This little Bamf's name is Lucky Charms or just Lucky

This is a side account mainly for the fic, my main is @disappointedvex, but I don't really post a lot on there.

[aphroditaeon]

Levi being a little judgmental and acting like he’s above certain kinks only to have a really big weakness to them is just sooo hot. He acts like it’s immoral and gross and even reprehensible but once you beg your daddy to give it to you in bed he has to hold back from cumming too early. Maybe it makes him get a little too rough. Maybe he needs to reel it in. Maybe he will sulk for days about it, wanting both not to give in and ask you to call him that again while he’s fucking you and feeling anger at himself for his own lack of self control. Maybe he’ll beg for it if you won’t oblige, maybe he’ll get too rough again when you tease him about it. And when he starts accepting that yes, he does have a thing for it, that’s when you’ll start whispering it into his ear in front of his friends

[imagine-darksiders]

Y/n: Don't worry Death! Any demon who wants to hurt you will have to get through me first!

Death: You're a noble friend. I'll treasure those three extra seconds.

[cherry-writes-smut]

Logan Howlett/Wolverine:

Scott Summers/Cyclops:

Hank McCoy/The Beast:

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler:

Raven Darkholme/Mystique:

Charles Xavier:

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto:

Alex Summers/Havoc:

Anna Marie/Rogue:

John Allerdyce/Pyro:

Bobby Drake/Iceman:

Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver:

Remy LeBeau/Gambit:

Anna Marie/Rogue:

Scott Summers/Cyclops:

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler:

Jean Grey/Phoenix:

Ororo Munroe/Storm:

Kevin Sydney/Morph:

Jubilation Lee/Jubilee:

Robert De Costa/Sunspot:

Tate Langdon:

Kyle Spencer:

Kit Walker:

Zoe Benson:

Madison Montgomery:

Violet Harmon:

[bamfkeeper]

Bamf Who Cried Bamf.

RQ: 'Hear me out: one of the Bamfs gets hurt so you give it a lil extra attention and it just soaks the love straight up. Lookin all smug at the other Bamfs all curled up in your arms and being all snuggly-Next thing you know when you see Kurt and the Bamfs next all the little guys are pretending to be hurt to get special treatment.' - @dinogoofy

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | Warnings: Light description of injuries, I use it/he/they pronouns for the bamfs.

A/N: This is so sweet! I love the little bamfs getting jealous~ But I also like the idea of caring for one and it needing you. Unedited I'm lazy. | WC: 2.8k

The bamfs were unruly most days, their mischievous souls often getting the better of them. They were quite the handful, like terrible toddlers in their behavior and demands for attention, making them even more challenging to manage.

With teleportation powers at their disposal, these little creatures could appear and disappear at any time, often causing chaos in their wake.

Great. Sometimes you forget they can teleport.

Most days, you found yourself playing the role of 'mother hen' so to speak. Kurt often took on the role of playmate, engaging the bamfs in games and keeping them entertained, you were the one who actually took care of their day-to-day needs. This division of labor seemed to work well, with each of you contributing in your own way to the bamfs' well-being. Despite the occasional frustrations, you didn't mind your caretaker role.

As terrible as they could be sometimes with their sudden appearances and disappearances causing no end of trouble, they were equally as sweet in their affectionate moments. Curling up with them felt so natural to you, a comforting routine that brought joy to both you and the bamfs. You loved holding them close, feeling their small bodies nestled against you, and placing gentle kisses on their tiny heads. The soft purrs they emitted during these quiet moments were incredibly relaxing for you, a soothing balm after the chaos of the day.

The current day felt wonderfully lazy, a much-needed respite from the hectic pace of life you and Kurt had been maintaining lately. This afternoon of relaxation was essential, a well-deserved break from the constant hustle and bustle. The bamfs, ever-energetic, were engaged in their usual playful antics, either scampering about the room or deeply absorbed in one of the numerous activities you had provided for them.

You and Kurt had settled comfortably on the couch, your bodies finding that perfect position of relaxation. Kurt's hand moved in a soothing rhythm up and down your back, his touch both comforting and intimate. The gentle caress lulled you both into a state of peaceful semi-consciousness, hovering between wakefulness and sleep. His hand slipping under your shirt to feel your warm skin, soothingly tracing gentle patterns with no direction or meaning.

The serene quiet was abruptly shattered by a resounding bang emanating from the adjacent room. The sudden noise jolted you both from your peaceful reverie, your eyes snapping open in surprise. Your body tensed instinctively as you jerked upright, instantly alert. Exchanging a quick glance with Kurt, you both sprang into action without a word. You swiftly disentangled yourself from Kurt's embrace and the comfort of the couch, your movements mirrored by his own.

As you and Kurt entered the room, you were immediately struck by the sight of several bamfs, their large eyes filled with concern and apprehension. It was clear that something was wrong. Suddenly, the air was pierced by the faint, distressed cries of a bamf. Without hesitation, you found yourself instinctively drawn towards the source of the sound.

Venturing further into the room, your eyes were drawn to movement near a large, ornate dresser. A small, blue figure emerged from beneath it, struggling to free itself. The heavy, wooden piece of furniture had toppled over, trapping one of the unfortunate bamfs underneath its considerable weight. The trapped bamf’s lower body was pinned beneath the dresser, it struggled and pulled frantically, desperate to escape.

You immediately rushed to the bamf's aid, your heart racing with urgency, Kurt was right beside you. Kurt grasped the edge of the dresser and began to lift, the muscles in his arms strained as he raised the heavy furniture just enough to create a small gap. You reached under the dresser and grasped the bamf's small form, pulling the creature out from its trapped position.

The bamf's anguished wails pierced the air, its tiny leg displaying an alarming deep violet bruise and an unsettling twist. Your voice was a mixture of concern and urgency, "Kurt, look at his leg…" You gestured towards the injured limb as the bamf continued to emit heart-wrenching cries against your chest. Kurt's face immediately contorted with worry, his hands reaching out instinctively towards the distressed creature.

"I've got him, liebling..." Kurt murmured softly, his arms gently enveloping the bamf as he carefully lifted it from your embrace. The moment the transfer occurred, the bamf's cries escalated dramatically. Its small face flushed a disconcerting shade of purple as its wails intensified, mimicking an exceptionally irate newborn. Kurt's golden eyes widened in shock, darting between you and the bamf before swiftly returning the distraught creature to your arms.

You instinctively cradled the bamf against you once more, your face a mirror of Kurt's concern. "Shh, sh, it's okay, shh..." you cooed soothingly, your voice a gentle whisper as you began to rock the little one in your arms. Your movements were slow and deliberate, hoping to provide comfort to the distressed creature. The bamf's cries began to soften ever so slightly in response to your tender ministrations, though its injured leg still twitched occasionally, reminding you the poor thing was in immense pain.

"We have to get him to Hank immediately. He can make a small cast for the little one, right?" You asked Kurt with a furrowed brow, your voice laced with concern for the injured bamf cradled gently in your arms. Kurt nodded solemnly, his expression full of worry. You carried the wounded bamf out of the room, heading towards Hank's state-of-the-art laboratory. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the other bamfs followed in complete silence. Their typically vibrant bodies seemed to have shrunk slightly, a physical manifestation of their collective anxiety for their injured companion, perhaps some guilt swirled in their guts, but mostly worry.

Upon reaching the lab, Hank immediately set to work. His nimble fingers and vast expertise allowed him to craft a perfectly sized cast with remarkable efficiency, you expected nothing less from the scientist. The injured bamf, clearly overwhelmed by the unfamiliar situation, alternated between curious glances at the cast and apprehensive looks at his surroundings.

Hank's thorough examination revealed the full extent of the injuries: the little one's leg was fractured in multiple places, necessitating complete rest to heal properly. Additionally, a myriad of bruises peppered its small body, and several other minor fractures were identified. It was clear that the bamf would require an extended period of intensive care and attention, far beyond what was typically needed for these resilient creatures.

You carefully cradled the injured bamf back in your arms, a gentle smile spread across your face, the soft, blue fuzz of the creature tickled your skin. You were more than prepared to provide the extra care and attention this little one would need.

Several days had passed since the unfortunate incident, and a noticeable change had come over the other bamfs. Their usual exuberance had been tempered, replaced with concern for their injured companion. They watched with worried eyes as their weakened brethren spent most of its time resting on the couch in your company. The injured bamf found solace either cradled in your arms or nestled in the cozy nest you had fashioned from cushioned blankets, specially arranged for its comfort.

The bond between you and the injured bamf had grown increasingly strong. It had become deeply attached to your presence, emitting plaintive cries whenever you strayed too far from its side. Your nurturing instincts had fully awakened, and you found yourself constantly fussing over the little creature. You spoon-fed the bamf its meals, ensuring it received proper nourishment, even though it could fully chew and eat on its own. You applied soothing, numbing cream to its sore spots, your fingers moving with delicately avoid causing any additional discomfort.

The days progressed, the sweet blue creature seemed to crave your nearness more and more. It often curled up against you, seeking the warmth and security of your embrace. It bore a striking resemblance to a needy infant, completely dependent on your care and affection. Your instincts were extremely high and you couldn’t help but tend to it like it were your own offspring.

The bamf's condition was steadily improving as time passed. Initially, its movements were tentative and unsteady, but it gradually regained the ability to walk and engage in playful activities, albeit with a noticeable slowness and slight wobble. As the days went by, its progress accelerated remarkably. Soon enough, the little creature was able to crawl with increasing confidence, walk, and eventually run with newfound energy.

Your unwavering attention and care had been solely focused on nurturing the injured bamf back to health. You inadvertently overlooked the growing sense of jealousy emanating from the other bamfs. Their longing gazes went unnoticed as they silently yearned for your affection and attention. Even the injured bamf, who had been the center of your care, began to sense a shift in your attentiveness as its need for constant care diminished with its improving health.

The day finally arrived when the bamf's cast was removed, marking a significant milestone in its recovery. It was exciting for you and Kurt, and a big relief since that meant the bamf was fully recovered. Instead of feeling elated, the little creature was overcome with a wave of sadness. It couldn't help but worry that this meant you would no longer shower it with the same level of care and attention it had grown accustomed to. It gazed up at you with its big, expressive eyes and extended its tiny arms upward, silently pleading to be picked up and held close.

You sighed, knowing it was feeling a bit strange now that the cast was off. You responded with gentle encouragement, "Now, darling," you said in a sweet, soothing tone, "You've got to walk on your leg to make sure it's properly healed and strong." You helped the bamf down from the examination table, gently supporting it as you guided its feet to the floor.

The bamf, still clinging to its desire for continued attention, stubbornly began to walk around the room. Its gait was accompanied by an adorable pout, a clear indication of its reluctance to accept that its leg was indeed healed and no longer required your constant care.

You smiled at the bamf, despite its apparent distress. You reasoned that it was likely just adjusting to life without the cast. It began to slowly engage in play once more, albeit with a noticeable reservation in its demeanor. Occasionally it would emit a plaintive cry in your direction, seeking your comfort. However, Kurt gently reminded you of the importance of allowing it to regain independence. "Liebling, there's no need to coddle it anymore," he explained softly. "Hank said it’s important to let it become accustomed to moving freely now that the cast has been removed. It's just part of the recovery process."

"I understand, I really do," you replied, your voice tinged with concern. "But... just look at him over there. He seems so isolated." Your gaze drifted to where the bamf sat, a solitary figure observing the playful antics of its companions from a distance. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, making it difficult to resist the urge to intervene.

Kurt's expression softened as he followed your line of sight. "I know it's hard to watch," he acknowledged, his tone empathetic yet reassuring. "But try to see it from a different perspective. He's not necessarily sad - he's just... exercising caution, you know? It's a natural response after what he's been through." Kurt offered a gentle shrug, his words aimed at alleviating your worries. "He's alright, truly. There's no need for concern. This is all part of his journey back to full health and confidence." He grinned, his tail curling around your ankle affectionately.

A few days later, you began to notice a peculiar change in its behavior. The small bamf seemed to be constantly in distress, it would cry out frequently, its voice filled with what appeared to be genuine anguish, and it seemed to have become remarkably accident-prone. The bamf would wail and whine, calling for you specifically, its voice tinged with desperation. Your natural response was to rush to its side, gently cradling the seemingly distressed creature in your arms. You'd whisper soothing words, trying to calm its apparent fears and alleviate its discomfort, always ensuring it was physically unharmed.

However, these incidents of minor injuries and emotional outbursts continued to occur with alarming regularity, causing your worry to deepen with each passing day. The bamf's cries for attention grew more frequent and intense, with large, glistening tears streaming down its fuzzy cheeks as you held it close, attempting to provide comfort and reassurance.

Kurt, however, maintained a skeptical stance throughout these occurrences. His suspicions were aroused by the bamf's behavior, which seemed oddly calculated to him.

Kurt found himself crossing his arms, his gaze fixed intently on the bamf. His keen eyes didn't miss the fleeting, but unmistakable, prideful smile that the creature flashed to its fellow bamfs when it thought no one was watching. Kurt realized with growing certainty that those big, heart-wrenching tears were nothing more than an elaborate act – as fake as they were effective.

The bamf had masterfully crafted this performance, taking full advantage of your nurturing nature. You, in your kindness and genuine concern, were simply too caring and empathetic to see through the clever ruse that the mischievous creature had concocted to garner your undivided attention and affection.

Those crocodile tears worked every time.

"Liebling, he's faking it," Kurt attempted to explain, his brow furrowing as he gazed at you with concern. "He's not actually hurt; he's perfectly fine. Have you ever seen any of these supposed accidents?" He inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of skepticism. In response, you found yourself slowly shaking your head, uncertainty creeping into your expression.

"Well, no..." you admitted hesitantly, your own frown deepening as you considered his words. "But you have to remember, he's only recently recovered from a serious injury! There's a possibility that he could be experiencing some lingering effects or complications," you reasoned, your voice filled with genuine concern for the little creature's well-being.

Kurt's expression softened slightly, but the puzzlement remained evident in his eyes. "I'm struggling to understand why he would engage in such behavior," he mused, his gaze shifting to the bamf nestled in your arms. With a gentle but firm tone, he addressed the small creature directly. "Now, listen carefully, little one. This deception cannot continue. I believe I understand why you are behaving this way…you enjoy the attention and care that liebe lavishes upon you, don't you? I must admit, I too appreciate when they tend to me with such devotion." Kurt carefully lifted the bamf from your embrace, and to your surprise, the little creature offered no resistance.

The bamf's large, expressive eyes blinked up at Kurt, a mixture of guilt and sadness evident in its gaze. It then glanced towards you, its tiny features contorting into a remorseful frown. The sight of its drooping ears and that unmistakable pout tugged at your heartstrings, silently communicating that the little creature had indeed understood the gravity of its actions.

"Aww, is that really what's been bothering you? You've been craving attention like you used to get, haven't you?" you cooed softly to the bamf, gently scooping it back into your arms. Your voice was filled with warmth, "Just because I'm not fussing as much, doesn't mean I love you any less, sweet baby."

You cradled the bamf close to your chest, feeling its small body relax against you. "I love you just as much as I always have, even if I'm not able to tend to your every need 24/7 anymore," you reassured, your fingers finding their way to its belly. You began to tickle gently, your touch light and playful. "See? We can still have our special moments," you murmured, watching with delight as the bamf's pout slowly transformed into a happy, toothy smile.

Kurt observed the scene with a sense of relief washing over him. It seemed the troublesome behavior might finally come to an end, which was a welcome development. Leaning in, he affectionately ruffled the bamf's hair, eliciting a small giggle from the creature. "No more crying wolf, you hear little one?" Kurt added with a wink, his voice carrying a gentle note of admonishment and obvious fondness.

"Bamf!"

A sudden noise from the adjacent room caused your heart to race, prompting you and Kurt to rush into the living room. Upon entering, your eyes widened as a sense of déjà vu washed over you along with that urge to nurture, coming back full force. The collective distress of these tiny creatures filled the room with urgency and concern.

You saw all of the bamfs scattered across the floor, their small bodies sprawled out in various positions. They were emitting pitiful cries and mewling sounds, clearly seeking your attention and comfort. Just like the first one.

No obvious cause of injury.

Kurt sighed, his hand moving over his face as he sighed heavily, "Oh, großartig..."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedbylight & @/strangergraphics

Cover Image: Nightcrawler (2014) #5