#He's quite happy for people to take bad decisions whatever they may be but against his pets or innocent animals no no no

[amorxsomnia]

D is not a tall or well-built man. He stands about 5'5 at most and that is quite generous given his poor biological health as his grandfather's clone. Others assume him to be a mild-mannered asian male but D is quite capable of being vicious when need be, albeit as a last resort due to the energy it takes out of him.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Angstober (day 10)

Pairing: College!Bucky x College!Reader

Prompt: Humiliation

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Bucky is a jerk (he does have a sense of regret); reader is humiliated; mentions of self-doubt and insecurities; toxic and strict parents; hurt!reader; sad!reader; ending is quite open but not really happy

Angstober Masterlist

This is bad.

This is really, really bad.

You stare at the sheet of paper in front of you - the exam your professor just handed back, corrected. And it seems like there were quite a few things needing to be corrected.

82%

The number burns behind your eyes, but you don’t get your gaze to turn away. It sits there so innocently as if it doesn’t matter. As if there isn’t something at stake here. As if you could be satisfied with it.

Your mouth goes dry. You had studied days and nights for this exam, as you always do, buried yourself in textbooks, flashcards, anything to cram more information into your already overloaded brain. All for 82%.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck, your skin prickling with it, like embarrassment and dread decided to team up against you, merging into something gruesome, something you can’t escape.

Around you, students already started to pack up their bags, laughing, chattering, moving on. But you can’t move. You’re frozen on this bench, apprehension sinking into your bones and making them too heavy to lift your body.

Thinking that way over a grade - with it being objectively even a decent one - would perhaps be considered dramatic. Some fellow students had cheered at much lower numbers when the professor handed out the results earlier. And perhaps, you would have even been okay with this. Perhaps you could even allow yourself a tiny flicker of satisfaction if this were about you. But it’s not. It never is.

It’s about your parents.

It’s basically ingrained in them to scrutinize every part of you, every grade, every decision. They keep close tabs on everything you do, everything that may be a hazard for the path they laid out for you a long time ago. But you don’t walk this path voluntarily. You’re being pushed, forced to take steps closer to a dream you never claimed as your own. And that can only weigh a person down.

So maybe you’re not even that surprised about the grade. Pressure is a bitch. Especially when it’s boiling, simmering under the surface, until your mind can’t comprehend the simplest of information anymore. But they won’t consider anything like that when they find out. And they will find out. They always do. It’s like they have eyes everywhere, monitoring you, waiting for you to slip.

And 82%? You may as well have flunked the entire thing.

The last time you fell short of their expectations had been 86%. Funnily enough, it was the exam before this one, so that makes things even worse. Your parents had acted like you dragged the family name through the mud and intentionally smeared it all over just to spite them.

And every word they threw at you was laced with that cutting edge that usually ends up making you feel small, insignificant, stupid. Really, it doesn’t stop there.

You don’t live with them anymore. You took the chance and moved away for college the second you could, hoping for an escape, carte blanche, freedom, whatever the hell people like to call it.

But the distance wasn’t able to cut the ties. They’re still there. Their expectations, their rules, fighting for dominance in the back of your head and hanging over you like a dark cloud. And you know with chilling certainty that this 82% is going to rain hell on your head.

Your hands feel heavy, too heavy to lift, too heavy to even pack up your things like everyone else. You just sit, paralyzed by the weight of their disappointment that hasn’t even happened yet, but you know is coming.

“Y/n!”

Wanda’s voice reaches you through the haze, your thoughts had blurred into. Her voice carries hints of that teasing tone she loves to use on you.

“Pack up, slowpoke! I gotta catch my bus!”

“Yeah, right, sorry,” you mutter, blinking yourself out of that numbness that had been creeping in. You snatch up that exam paper and shove it into your bag, crumbling it in the process but not at all caring. It’s better out of sight. You throw the rest of your stuff into the bag as well and rush to the door of the lecture hall, meeting Wanda there.

You two take different buses to get home every day but always walk to the bus station together after the classes of the day are over. And thank god this was the last one of the day, the last one of the week.

A weekend to drown yourself in your sorrows is what you need.

“Soo…” Wanda sing-songs, a hint of something in her voice. “There’s this party tonight…” she trails off, giving you a sideways glance, eyes wide with expectation and a bright grin on her face.

You sigh. Heavily. Deeply. “Wan-” you start, already shaking your head without turning to her, but she doesn’t let you get far.

“Come on, Y/n,” she practically begs, drawing out the words. “You’ve been working yourself to death for weeks. And now that the exams are over, we don’t have anything due for ages! We’ve got time. And, well, don’t punch me for this, but you need to come out, let off some steam.”

You don’t give her much of a reaction as you carry on with your steps, head turned forward, watching the bus station in the distance grow bigger. This isn’t the first time she’s asked you this and it certainly won’t be the last.

“I’m not-” you start your usual rejection, but she is relentless, already prepared for your banter.

“I’ll make sure you have a good time. It’ll be fun, you’ll meet some new people, let loose a little,” she nudges you lightly, “forget about the dragons for a while.”

At that, a huff of laughter escapes your lips and you make out the triumph in Wanda’s eyes even though you’re still not looking at her directly. At some point, Wanda had resigned to calling your parents the dragons. You took offense at that for them for a while. Or you tried to at least but, honestly, it actually made your situation with them humorous to some twisted extent.

You want to argue. You want to dig your heels in and tell her no like you usually do. But you’re tired. Tired of this conversation, tired of the accusations of your parents - the dragons - you will have to prepare for, tired of that weight that never really moves off your shoulders.

So you really can’t be mad at yourself for this.

“Alright, fine, whatever. But just this once.”

Wanda squeals.

****

Yeah, this was a mistake.

The moment you and Wanda put foot into the room, vibrating with music that leaves you stumbling, eyes move over to you.

Actually, perhaps, it aren’t even many. But receiving attention from a whole bunch of people isn’t something that happens to you on a daily basis, so having those few students turn in your direction, ogling your form as you walk into the life of the party, overwhelms you with an intensity that forces you to halt.

You had hoped you could use this night to finally forget, to get an escape where no one would notice you. That doesn’t seem to happen. Wanda also doesn’t let you retreat back into the night, and find solace in a bottle somewhere far from here - somewhere quiet.

“Hey!”

You know that voice. You hate that voice and everything that belongs to its owner.

“Took a wrong turn there, sweetheart. Library’s the other way!”

There’s a laugh in his voice, the exaggerated mocking he always uses to taunt you, perfectly edged into it and you pretend not to hear him, only gripping Wanda’s arm tighter. His friends sharp laughter isn’t ignored that easily though, and you feel that well-known shame boil over far too easily.

“Oh, how would you know, Barnes?” Wanda shoots back, her voice mocking, but lacking that same playfulness she used with you earlier. A few more snorts from Bucky’s group follow but you don’t turn around as Wanda pulls you passed them.

You hate this. Already.

Bucky is at every party, so you knew he would be here. And you had tried to mentally prepare for his presence, steeled yourself against the jibes and insults he usually throws at you. Well, at least you had thought you were ready. But no amount of preparation could ever arm you against the venom sneaking into your thoughts at every word of his. How they latch onto the darkest corners of your mind, feeding the doubts already planted there.

It’s always been this way with him. He has always been this way. Since the first semester, it’s as if he has a vendetta against you, and you’ve become his favorite target. It started with him noticing you sitting over a textbook in the library, in the mensa, in study halls, all over campus really, and he made sure to always point it out. To make fun of it. To make fun of you.

Perhaps there is some warped entertainment in your discomfort that he savors. You’re an easy mark - soft-spoken, non-confrontational. You don’t fight back. Instead, you bury your hurt, swallowing the insecurities he rises in you, without showing a soul. Your parents were good at teaching you how to do that.

He doesn’t see how deeply his jokes cut, because you never let him see it. But you don’t think he’d care if he did.

“Does this not ever get boring to you?”

“It’s not like anyone’s going to remember you if you stay holed up in your books all the time”

“At some point, you gotta focus on the right things in life, sugar.”

Once they’re said, they never leave your head, always coming to the forefront of your mind in times you can’t handle them.

Now is one of those times.

“Wanda, I’m leaving,” you say, words holding the determination you needed all day, yanking your arm free from her grip, harsher than intended.

You need to get out of here, need to take a fucking breath, and get a taste of the cool air outside since the heat flooding your blood and skin makes it feel like you’re burning from the inside out.

You make for the door, but his voice finds you again.

“Now, hold on, where you goin'? Can’t leave yet, L/n. You just got here.”

You don’t stop at his bullshit, willing yourself to ignore him. But your fingers start trembling, growing slick with sweat.

“And hey, since I get the chance to talk to you… 82%?”

You freeze.

Your heart stutters, a cold shock icing your veins. It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room leaving you to search for oxygen. You don’t want to turn around, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction, but you’re stuck. Glued to the spot, giving him and his words the power to anchor you in place.

“Really?” Bucky continues, voice still dripping with teasing mockery, unaware of your struggle. “With all those all-nighters at the library? I gotta say, Y/n, that’s actually impressive.”

The rushing sound in your ears devours everything else - the way Wanda jumps in to your defense, as always; the same menacing laughter of his friends - it’s all drowned out by the pounding in your skull.

Your hands ball into fists, nails digging into your palms. You feel the burn of tears, that familiar sting in the corners of your eyes, and you fight it. You fight it because the last thing you want is to cry in front of him, in front of all these people, all these damn prying eyes.

You turn around without even thinking, your gaze locking onto Bucky’s. He’s grinning that satisfied smirk, a gleam in his eyes but then, in a space of a heartbeat, his expression changes, falters. His smile is wiped off his face in seconds as his eyes widen. Shock enters his features, easing the lines and sucking out the color on his face as his lips part slightly, slowly.

You can’t place his reaction, but you figure it out when your body betrays you. Lips trembling, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth but you can’t do anything for the tears blurring your vision rapidly.

Bucky is still staring at you, frozen, gaping; his face a mix of something you don’t want to concentrate on. He’s not the one allowed to be in pain right now. He’s not the one allowed to feel the rising load of agony. So why the hell does he look like it?

You turn on your heel as the hot tears start gliding down your cheeks and your body doesn’t feel like your own as you hastily make your way to the door. Your hand flies to your mouth, hoping it will stifle the sound of the sob that emerges from deep within, trying to hold onto the last shred of control and dignity you have left as you bolt from the room.

You’ve never left a place this fast before.

Not even your parent's house.

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

[sequinsmile-x]

Office Supplies

The only people who don't know Emily and Aaron love each other are Emily and Aaron.

Penelope, and Dave, take decisive action.

-x-

This is a birthday present for @emilyshotchniss! I hope you had a lovely day, and that you enjoy this fic <3

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You should tell him.” 

Emily sighs, briefly stopping herself from stirring her coffee, giving herself a moment before she turns back to look at her friend, “Pen, I’m not going to tell him.” 

“But you told me.” 

Emily throws the spoon she’d been using into the sink and holds her coffee between both her hands, the heat from the mug easier to feel than her frustration towards her friend. 

“Yes, because you plied me with absinthe, which may as well be truth serum,” she grumbles, “The combination of you and alcohol can make me admit shit I literally wouldn’t admit under torture.” 

Penelope, unbothered by Emily’s bad mood, carries on, “But peaches, you love Hotch-”

“Be quiet,” Emily says through her teeth, looking around to make sure they were still alone, the kitchen in the bullpen still mercifully empty, “We’re at work.” 

She’d known it for years. The initial pull in her belly when he was missing after Foyet attacked him, something she had told herself was just concern at the time, morphing into something all-consuming. She’d feel her cheeks get warm whenever he stood too close to her. The smell of his cologne enough to make her lose her chain of thought, the heat that he seemed to have in excess rolling off of him and making her shiver if he so much as put his hand on her back to move past her on the jet. 

If there was any part of her that thought it was just about sex she would have jumped him long ago. Let him fuck her against a door or wall, whatever the nearest surface was, to get it, him, out of her system. But it was more than that, it always had been.

She was in love with him. She loved his smile, its rarity making it all the more precious. She loved his dry sense of humour, how he’d use it to disarm the team to make them laugh when they needed it the most. She loved his presence, how she’d feel safe if he just so happened to be in a room. 

And she loved how he loved people. The subtle way he looked after them all, and the not-so-subtle way he had saved her life. 

In Paris, the feelings she had been able to push down burst into life. Everything that had once seemed to live in a grey area transformed into technicolour, settling into her very bones. Her love for him becoming such a part of her she knows she would never be able to stop. She told herself in Paris, those long, lonely days and nights stretching into an infinity, that if she made it back she’d tell him. That she’d take a gamble on the few moments she wondered if he loved her too. Hazy memories of him visiting her in the hospital, still in the suit from her funeral, that she’d half convinced herself were a dream, leading the charge. His hand tight around hers and his lips against her forehead as he promised her he’d catch Ian. 

She didn’t want to do anything when she first got back home partially because she didn’t want him to think that it was out of some kind of gratitude. That he’d saved her life so she wanted to be with him because of it. But also because he deserved better than how she was when she first got home. A shadow of her former self. 

By the time she felt ready for it, different than before but better than she had been, he introduced them to Beth. A woman who looked more like her than his ex-wife, and came without any of the complications than she would bring. So Emily did what she’d always done when she’d had her heart broken. She’d watched all the Star Wars movies in one weekend, cried more than she had in a long time and ate her weight in fries and ice cream. Then the next time she saw everyone she was ok again, content for her happy ending with Aaron to exist nowhere but in her fantasies that had never quite come to fruition. 

Until a girl's night when she’d drunkenly admitted she was in love with him. Shocking Penelope but apparently not JJ, who claimed she had always known there was something there. Damage control hadn’t worked, and now Penelope brought it up often, sure that Aaron would feel the same way. 

“Sorry,” Pen says, leaning in closer and lowering her voice, “I’m just saying-”

“Enough, Pen,” Emily says, sighing when she snaps a little more than she intended to, “It’s…not going to happen. He’s happy with Beth.”

“But he’s-”

“Please,” she pleads with her friend, her eyes flicking to the door to the bullpen as it opens, Aaron flashing her a smile as he walks in. She hates herself for the way her stomach flips, something that once excited her making her feel nauseous, “Please just leave it.” 

Penelope sighs, watching as the sadness Emily clearly tries to fight floods her eyes, but she nods, knowing that for now, this wasn’t an argument she was going to win.

“Ok, fine,” Penelope says, reaching out and putting her hand on Emily’s arm, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok,” Emily says, smiling tightly at her friend, “I guess I just missed my chance.”

Penelope watches as she walks away, leaning against the kitchen counter, blowing out a steady breath as she spots Dave arriving for the day. 

“Time to bring in the big guns,” she mutters to herself, an idea already forming in her head.

___

Emily groans as the looks at the clock, the time dragging on in a way that almost made her wish for a case. Her cell phone screen lights up, and Pen’s name along with a text message flashes up at her. 

Can you do me a favour?”

Emily raises an eyebrow and types out her response. Favours for Penelope could range from the obscure to the barely legal, so she was hesitant to agree to anything without further detail.

What kind of favour?

The response is immediate as if Penelope had never put her phone down whilst she waited for a reply.

Can you get me some sticky notes from the supply closet? I’m all out.

Pretty please. I’ll owe you forever. 

Emily sighs and shakes her head, already standing up as she replies.

You’re lucky I’m bored. The brightly coloured ones? 

She smiles as she gets a response, slipping her phone into her back pocket once she’s read it. 

You know me so well.

She’s distracted as she walks to the supply closet, not paying attention as she opens the door and then closes it behind her again, almost jumping out of her skin when she realises she’s not alone in the tiny room. 

“Shit,” she exclaims, her hand over her heart as Aaron turns to face her, his eyes wide as she clearly surprises him too, “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “I wasn’t expecting to see you in here.” 

“It’s ok,” he replies, smiling at her, his dimples carved out into his cheeks as well as her heart, “Dave asked me to get some pens for him,” he says, holding up the box in his hand, “Although why he couldn’t get them himself is beyond me.” 

She chuckles, “Well, I guess it’s always good to be kind to the elderly.” 

Aaron laughs, the bright sound that made her heart swell in her chest, endless thoughts of what could have been enough to make her cry. 

“I won’t tell him you said that,” he replies, “What are you here for?”

“Pen needed some sticky notes,” she says, reaching for a box of them from the shelf in between them, “Apparently we both have side gigs as assistants now.” 

Any response is cut off by the lock on the door behind her clicking shut, and her eyes go wide, the trap that she had fallen into suddenly clear. She turns around and tries to pull at the door handle, sighing when it doesn’t open. 

“Pen, open the door I know you’re out there.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pen’s muffled voice says through the door, “It must be broken we’ll have to call facilities.” 

Emily looks over her shoulder to look at Aaron, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and she looks back at the door, “I heard the lock click.” 

“Funny,” Dave says, and she closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door as she realises Penelope wasn’t doing this alone, “I didn’t. Must be my age.” He quips, letting her know he’d been stood out there the whole time and heard their conversation so far. 

“I swear to god, I will kill-”

“We’ll call facilities and get you out of there as soon as we can,” Penelope says, cutting her off before she can finish her threat, “You guys entertain yourself, talk.”

“Penelope,” She warns, but she can already hear footsteps receding, and she knows she and Aaron are alone. She blows out a breath and turns to look at him.

“What was that all about?” He asks, his eyebrows creasing together, and she sighs, running her hand through her hair. 

As soon as she was out of here she was going to kill Penelope and Dave. 

___

Aaron was in love with her.

He’d known it for years. The safety of her smile, her kindness, the place where he sought sanctuary more often than not. Using her as a sounding board when he needed it, drawn towards her because of more than her obvious beauty. 

When he stood over a grave that he knew was empty, he told himself when he got her back, because he’d never been able to think in a world of ‘ifs’ as far as that was concerned, he’d tell her. He’d take a gamble that Dave had always told him was a sure one. His friend always keen to tell him how Emily looked at him when he wasn’t looking. 

At first, he knew the timing wasn’t right. That she wasn’t herself, and he wondered if maybe Emily Prentiss had died that day in Boston. He still loved her and he knew he always would, but as time went on he felt more sure that their time had passed. That the closest he’d ever come to telling her how he felt was the kiss against her forehead in the hospital, apologies muttered against her skin. 

Meeting Beth had been an accident. She was nice and pretty. Funny. And everything that any man would be lucky to find in a woman. At first, he’d turned down her obvious attempts at flirting, but then eventually he decided to give it a go. Any hopes of a fairy tale ending with Emily gone as soon as he overheard Penelope and JJ talking about Emily being in love with someone enough to convince him to let what had only been a few dates with Beth turn into something more.

“Aaron?” 

He stops walking towards his office and turns back to Dave, his friend's use of his name pulling him out of his thoughts, “Yes?” 

Dave smiles at him, something in his eyes glinting, “Would you mind doing me a favour?” 

___

Emily swallows thickly as she places the sticky notes back down, her arms tight across her chest. 

“I…”

She drifts off, unsure how she can get out of this without telling him what she had kept secret for so long, forced into admittance by well-meaning but interfering friends. She knew Penelope and Dave well enough to know that they wouldn’t let them out of here until they deemed the situation solved, or if there was an emergency of some kind. And whilst Emily wasn’t above wishing for a case, she thought there would be some sort of bad karma involved in actively hoping for a major incident. 

Aaron frowns, concerned by her uncharacteristic quietness, all of the levity of their conversation before the door locked gone. He places the box of pens down and steps towards her, his hand on her arm. His concern only deepens when she pulls away like she’s been burned, folding further into herself in an attempt to put some space between them in the tiny closet they were in. 

“Emily,” he says, his use of her first name purposeful, “You can tell me anything, you know that.” 

She looks up at him from where she’d been staring at the floor and her eyes meet his. There’s nothing but understanding in his eyes, and something she daren’t call love. 

“I’m worried it will change things,” she says, the words feeling heavy as they leave her chest. A vulnerability that she hated threatening to choke her. 

“Well,” he says, stepping back to give her a tiny bit more space, respecting that it was what she needed, “That’s not possible, unless you’re about to tell me you were a spy for another government organisation,” he jokes, offering her a half smile, “In which case I’ll just be more impressed that you found time to do it all.” 

She chokes on a laugh and shakes her head at him, “No it’s not…it’s not that, I promise.” 

“Then tell me. You’ll feel better,” he says, wanting nothing more than to pull her into a hug, to offer her comfort he’s not sure she wants. She stares at him and blows out a breath, nodding before she looks back down at the floor, unable to look at him as she finally says it out loud. 

“A couple of months ago I got drunk on a girl's night and admitted to Pen and JJ that I…that I have feelings for you,” she says quietly, hoping that by some miracle he won’t hear her, “And ever since then Pen has been trying to convince me that I should tell you. Which is why she’s locked us in here,” she keeps staring at the floor, tears gathering in her eyes at the continued silence, a confirmation she hadn’t needed that this was pointless, “I keep telling her that you’re with Beth-”

“I’m not with Beth,” he says, finally finding his voice. 

She looks up so quickly her neck hurts, but she barely registers it, “What?” 

Aaron clears his throat, the shock of Emily’s confession wearing off as the pieces fall into place. He realises that he was the guy that he overheard JJ and Penelope talking about weeks ago, and he shakes his head at himself.

“I broke up with her a couple of weeks ago,” he says, his hands in his pockets just to do something with them. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” she asks, her heart beating so firmly in her chest that she’s sure he might be able to hear it. 

“It’s not like it’s some big secret,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, taking a small step towards her, “Garcia actually found out last night when she asked about my plans, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

Emily chuckles humourlessly as she thinks about that morning, about her friend's seemingly newly revamped attempts to get her to admit to Aaron how she feels about him, and she shakes her head. She looks at him, her arms still across her chest as she tries to heave in a breath, her lungs seemingly full of nothing but him and his cologne because of how close he now was. 

“Wh…why did you break up with her?” She asks, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer, sure that the hope that was sparking in her belly was nothing more than yet another thing she’d end up being burned by. 

Aaron gathers himself, his chest tight with emotions he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager who was about to ask out Haley, the other great love of his life. He reaches out to touch Emily, tucking some hair behind her ear, and her breath catches in her throat, her eyes wide as they meet his. 

“Because it didn’t seem fair on either one of us to stay with her when I was in love with someone else.” 

His words hang heavily between them, the air thick with opportunity and what could be about to happen. She stares at him, her mouth open slightly as she licks at her lower lip, wetting it in a way she sees him watch. 

“Aaron…” 

“I thought…” he shakes his head at himself, “I don’t know what I thought. But I’ve always known you could do better than me.” 

She frowns, her shock turning into outrage, “That’s not true,” she says, shaking her head fiercely, furious at him for thinking such a thing, “That’s not true,” she repeats. Everything that had happened in the last few minutes had thrown her for a loop, her entire body practically vibrating with things she didn’t understand, every nerve on edge as she came to terms with the conversation they were having. She grabs the lapels of his jacket, her eyes fixed on his tie, “I…I wanted to be better for you. You’ve been through so much, and I didn’t want to add to that burden.”

“Em,” he says, cupping her cheek, making her look back up at him, “I love you,” he says, and she chokes on a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh as she shakes her head, “You could never be a burden.” 

She doesn’t know what to say, isn’t sure that there is anything that could be said, so she leans forward, closing the gap between them as she presses her lips against his. Everything else stops, and all she can feel is him. His hand at her cheek, the other pressing into her lower back as he pulls her closer, both of them lost in something they know they have been walking towards for years. 

They only pull away when Oxygen becomes necessary, both of them laughing as they lean their foreheads against each other. 

“I love you too,” she says, lifting her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb pressing into his lower lip, “I have for a long time.” 

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, kissing her thumb before she removes it, smiling as he leans in to kiss her again, “If we ever get out of here.” She laughs and presses her head into his shoulder, her body feeling light for the first time in as long as she can remember, “Still want to kill them?” 

“Maybe not kill,” she says, tilting her head up to look at him, “But I’m sure I’ll think of some kind of revenge.”

Aaron laughs and leans in to kiss her, both of them once again lost in it, in each other, until the door is pulled open and they break apart at the sound of a squeal.

They elope seven months later. 

They break the news to Penelope by leaving a photo taken at the courthouse on her desk, along with a message written on a brightly coloured sticky note. 

Thank you.

Love, The Hotchners 

-x-

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[plus-size-reader]

That Shirt

Klaus Hargreeves x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2083 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader and Klaus decide to get married, but they run into a few issues, only remedied by his unique wardrobe

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You knew it was crazy.

The idea that you had even considered getting married didn’t make any sense at all but you couldn’t help it..

The truth was that you loved Klaus, more than anything in the world, and when people loved one another, they got married.

It was what normal people did, what you would have done if Reginald hadn’t turned you both into some kind of vigilante superhero squad.

All things considered, it was probably the most mundane thing you’d do in your life.

Still, that didn’t mean everyone else in your interesting little family was so keen on the choice you were making.

Of course, they were shocked by the announcement of your engagement, but you didn’t really think it was going to be as big of a deal as they were making it. You were both adults, and only related as far as your adoption went..

It wasn’t hurting anyone.

...but given the fit Allison was currently throwing, you would have thought you had suggested that you end the world, again.

“I just can’t see you going through with it. I mean, Klaus?” she repeated, for what felt like the fifteenth time since you got here. You wanted to go impromptu dress shopping, seeing as you wedding was in two days, but she wasn’t having it.

Instead, all she wanted to talk about was how bad of an idea getting married was, and the worst part was, if you were her, you would have been doing the same thing.

You knew Klaus, and you knew better than anyone how flippant and strange he was, but you weren’t a child. You knew what was best for you, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

Even if it didn’t make any sense to someone as close to you as Allison.

You understood why she was doing this, why she was your biggest critic, but you also couldn’t make your every decision based on that. You had all lived your entire lives like that thus far, and it wasn’t worth it.

By this point in your life, you wanted to be able to make the choices your father had taken away from you all for so long.

“I know it’s not the choice you would make for me, but I could say the same to you. Like Luthor is such a prize” you shot back, using her crush against her as you so often did when she tried to tease you about Klaus.

She thought this was so strange, but you both knew that sometimes these kinds of things didn’t make any logical sense.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-” she tried, as if she hadn’t been the one to start this in the first place.

All you wanted was to marry the man you loved, and Allison was the one trying to force cold feet on you.

“I do, actually, and every day, I wish you could accept it” you sighed, turning around and leaving the way you’d come without much more in the way of an order.

You loved Allison and you knew that at some point, she would come around. Until she did, you were just going to have to go find a dress yourself.

...unless, of course, there was another way.

There was always one place you could go when the rest of the world felt like it was against you. A place that wasn’t much of a place at all.

“Woah there, why the long face?” Klaus cooed, rolling over in bed the second he heard the door, open and close in succession, followed impressively closely by a heavy sigh from you.

You had that far away look on your face, the look you got when the world made choices for you that you didn’t agree with.

Not that figuring that out was the hard part.

“Oh nothing, I just found out that Allison doesn’t think we should be getting married. So, it must be a tuesday” you grumbled, flopping down on the space on his bed Klaus had made for you, having already anticipated your deflating into him.

There was no good reason a man like him should have been so good at reading you, and yet, even with his brain scattered five ways from Sunday, he could crack you open like a book.

“It’s okay honeybunch, I still think getting married is a great idea” he allowed, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he did his best to focus on actually making you feel better. The two of you knew this was going to go down this way.

The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why you cared so much.

You had never worried about the opinions of your siblings before.

“I’m not kidding, Klaus. What if it is one big mistake?” you sighed, ignoring the soft kiss he pressed to your forehead as you further retreated into his frame, rather than focusing on the disaster that surrounded you.

You were supposed to get married in two days, and so far, you didn’t have anything.

The two of you had decided to have your wedding in the backyard of the manor, so it would be small and private, but even then, there was still so much that had to be done. There had to be food, places to sit, and a dress.

You still needed a dress.

“We aren’t ready for this” you muttered, your words buried so far into his chest that you weren’t even sure that he had heard them but the more you thought about it, the more you hoped he hadn’t.

Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t a mistake.

You knew that marrying Klaus was the only thing you wanted to do, and that it was going to make you happy.

...and thankfully, Klaus knew it too.

Even after all these years, there wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

It was clear to him that the stress was getting to you, and because of that, Klaus made up his mind. This was one of those times when it was his job to take care of you like you had taken care of him a million times over.

After all, he was going to be your husband pretty soon and husbands didn’t let their wives stumble into nervous breakdowns.

“Okay, get up grumpy. I’ve got an idea” he prompted, all but rolling over you to stand up. You were going to get a dress with Allison, but given the circumstances, it seemed she wasn’t going to be joining you.

Instead, the man in front of you was going to use every bit of fashion prowess and skill he had to figure something else out.

All he had to do was get you up out of bed.

“There’s no point. I doubt anybody's even going to come”

Those words were little more than another groan from your throat, this time flowing seamlessly into the fabric of Klaus’ sheets. Evidently, since everyone else thought your getting married was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t worth throwing a big party.

Maybe it was stupid.

You weren’t children anymore, and the idea of a big white wedding was one that seemed sort of out of place for you. If your father could see it now, you were sure he would lock you in your closet.

He hadn’t raised you to get married, or care for anyone in the first place.

Not that he managed to actually raise you to do much of anything.

“What if this whole wedding is just to get back at him? What if it’s one big mistake?” you repeated, your voice just as small and uncertain as he could have expected when you did manage to raise your head from the mattress.

However, as much as Klaus wanted to rush to your side and convince you of just how wonderful an idea this was, it wasn’t going to make a difference.

His words weren’t going to make you feel better. Klaus knew that if he was going to make a real difference, if he was going to convince you that this was what you should be doing, it was going to take something bigger.

Something grander.

Thankfully, before you could wallow anymore in your upset, Klaus found exactly what it was he was looking for.

“Hold that thought, for one second” he prompted, leaving the room for just a second with the garment he’d been searching for tucked under his arm, hidden from your curious gaze.

You had no idea what he could have had going on, or why he wasn’t taking this more seriously but you knew Klaus well enough to know that there was no stopping whatever off the rails thing he had in mind.

It would just be better to let him do his thing, and maybe, he may even help you figure this out by the time he’s done.

He did have a habit of surprising you like that.

“Here! If I wear this, no one will pay any mind to what you’re wearing” Klaus teased, entering the room again with a start, a smile so wide there that you feared he may physically tear the flesh of his handsome face.

After so many years with Klaus, you had learned not to be shocked by anything he brought to the table.

That being said, you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking a little bit at the dress shirt Klaus was currently wearing, waiting for your input.

It was quite the shirt, flowy with an ornate pattern in emerald green and black, finished with a red-orange trim.  

“That actually works quite nicely with your complexion” you shrugged, only standing when he offered a hand to you, the cuffs of that shirt flapping as he moved in a way that brought a smile to your face.

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to remember who frustrated and flustered you were, that garment had to have been the most hilarious thing you’d ever seen.

“I sure hope so, this is my nicest outfit” he defended, shooting you a wink that let you know this was his plan all along. Always the clever jester, he knew it would be better to distract you than to let you wallow in your own self-pity.

You wouldn’t have looked at it as something to get married in, not at first, but the more you studied the truly hideous shirt, you understood just what he was getting at.

Klaus was quick enough to pose it as a joke, but the point behind his actions was loud and clear to you. As long as the two of you were together, it didn’t matter who was there to witness it or if you were wearing a potato sack.

Marrying the man you loved was the most important thing, and if he wanted to get married in something like that, you would happily stand by his side.

“I love you” you gushed, barely holding back a cheek-splitting grin of your own as you admired the beautiful disaster in front of you.

Klaus had always been the most authentic, raw person you had ever had the privilege to know and the fact that you were lucky enough for him to love you as you loved him was all you should have been thinking about now.

Your wedding was supposed to be one of the best days of your life, after all.

...and, even though it wasn’t here yet, you knew that it would be as long as Klaus was by your side.

“You love the shirt, but I’ll take it” he grinned, reaching down to capture your hand in his own before leading you back toward the entrance of the room, his focus set on something that you couldn't have hoped to predict on your own.

Not that you got a chance to ask him to tell you before he took it upon himself to fill you in.

After all, there was still a problem at hand, even if he had managed to put it into perspective for you.

“We still have a little bit to do before this shirt and I can make you our wife” he teased, only further proving to you that this was the man you wanted to marry. Only Klaus could talk about his shirt like its own entity.

To be fair, though, there was nothing more you wanted than to be the Lady Hargreeves, floral shirt or no.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

never fallen from quite this high

read on ao3

There’s a knock at the door, but Eddie doesn’t hear it, focused instead on the pinks and oranges of the sunset coming through the window and trying to stop his mind from reeling like it’s been for the past week.

Because a week ago, when he broke up with Ana, she looked him in the eye and said, “I hope he makes you happy,” and he didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

He knew. And that scared him more than any war zone or tsunami or lungful of mud ever could.

Another knock, one Eddie registers, but he still doesn’t move. Now he’s replaying the last conversation he had with the person on the other side of the door — when Buck had innocently, nonchalantly asked why he had broken up with “his perfect teacher” and his response, without a minute to let himself think, was “because of you”. The room became a vacuum, completely airless as they stared at each other, Buck slack-jawed and Eddie wide-eyed. He could have done a thousand things — explained himself, laughed it off, denied denied denied, anything.

Instead, he ran away, peeling out of the parking lot to put as much distance between Buck and his dumb ass as possible, drowning in the shame he brought on himself.

He should’ve known Buck would follow him anyway.

A third knock, a little louder and more deliberate, and Eddie’s fingers twitch, itching to let Buck in like his heart has been begging for for days — probably years, actually — only to be beaten into submission by his thoughts and reminders that Buck is good and he is not. That no matter how deep his feelings for Buck may be (which, as it turns out, are deep enough to brand themselves on bone), he refuses to taint him, will not spread whatever bad energy even his parents can see, not after watching Buck rebuild himself brick by beautiful brick until he loved himself half as much as Eddie does.

There’s scraping and jingling as the door is unlocked, and Eddie braces himself for whatever conversation is about to unfold. Buck walks into the room, curls loose from his post-shift shower, expression unreadable in a way that Eddie hasn’t seen in a while, not since he’d memorized every tick and twitch Buck makes. The last remaining rays of sunshine light him up as he comes to a stop in front of Eddie, wrapping him in an ethereal glow, soft and almost angelic, even with his arms crossed and his walls clearly up.

It’s a little unfair, Eddie thinks, that Buck looks this gorgeous, this inviting, when he can’t even appreciate it fully.

They stare at each other, a silent game of chicken while they each wait for the other to crack. Eddie won’t break, he can’t, because if Buck walks out of his life right now because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check, he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to put himself back together. Luckily, Buck moves first, sighing through his nose and sitting down on the coffee table across from Eddie.

“So,” he starts, “because of me, huh?”

The bluntness is enough to kickstart Eddie’s self-preservation instincts. “Let’s just forget it, Buck.”

“No, no way.” Buck scoots forward, pressing his knees to Eddie’s, preventing any kind of escape. “I don’t want to forget it or ignore it or pretend it never happened. But I would like an explanation.” 

The words get stuck in Eddie’s throat, undecided on whether they’re going to come out or retreat back in and hide themselves away again. He looks away and Buck follows, staying in his line of vision, looking smaller and sadder as the silence drags out.

He breaks it, finally, along with Eddie’s heart. “Was it something I did?”

Eddie sighs. “No, it’s not—”

“Because I did like her. She made you happy, so of course I liked her—”

“Buck—”

“And I didn’t mean to keep blowing off hanging out with you guys, it’s just— you and me and her— I was worried about it being weird and I know I shouldn’t have been but—”                                               

“Buck.” Eddie grabs his hands where they’re hanging between his legs, tries not to think about how Buck squeezes back even tighter instead of pulling away. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But you said—”

“I know.” He hadn’t even noticed threading their fingers together, but they’re here now and neither of them are moving, so he just squeezes again and takes a deep breath. “Ana was great, and I liked her a lot, but she didn’t...fit.” Because the hole Eddie thought he needed her to fill was already taken up, he just hadn’t let himself realize it. And he liked Ana — she was nice, pretty, safe, the epitome of the girl he should want, but she didn’t set his skin on fire with a brush of her fingers, didn’t flip his heart with an easy smile, didn’t make him ache for her.

She was perfect, but she wasn’t Buck.

“She didn’t fit, but someone else does?” Buck asks, like he hasn’t figured it out already, like Eddie hadn’t made it so blatantly obvious you could see it from space.

He nods anyway, confirming it. For Buck and for himself. “Yeah. You do. You fit.”

Buck’s eyes widen just a little, his face still unreadable but edging towards something like joy, only to crumble again as he searches Eddie’s face. “But that’s...bad? You don’t want me to fit.”

“No, Buck, I—” I need you to fit so bad I can’t breathe. “I want you to be happy.” More than I want myself to be happy. “I just don’t know if I can make you as happy as you deserve to be.”

Buck’s reaction is instant, without hesitation, like he knew what Eddie was going to say and already had an answer. He disentangles their hands and instead of leaving, like Eddie feared, he brings them up to either side of Eddie’s neck, thumbs resting on his jaw and holds him still so he can’t look anywhere but at Buck. 

He doesn’t want to look anywhere else. It should be scary, but it’s not. It’s liberating.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Buck starts, voice low and just for Eddie, keeping secrets from the shadows that have crept into the room, “but I’m an expert at leaving when the going gets tough. Every relationship I’ve ever been in — even Abby — had me fighting some part of myself that wanted to run away as soon as things got a little hard.” He takes a breath and his eyes blaze brighter, full of conviction and absolutely mesmerizing. “I never had to fight myself for you. You and Chris fit for me too, and I am happy, happier than I ever thought I would be, because of you.” 

Eddie swallows, lost in the determined, deep blue that is so uniquely Buck, and feels his walls start to fall apart.

“I’m not gonna be good at this,” he whispers — confesses — in the stillness of dusk.

“Neither will I. We’ll learn together.”

“What if I stop making you happy?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue again, to keep up the facade of the fortress he built around himself that he knows Buck has broken through, but something stops him. Some part of him that’s long been buried, something he thought he lost in the sands of Afghanistan, emerges from its hiding place and whispers Take it. Take him. He loves you. Let yourself be loved.

And it’s easier, then, to lean in instead of fight against. His hands frame Buck’s face, mirroring each other, and he hardly has to pull before they’re meeting in the middle. Buck’s lips are perfect, softer than he imagined but still firm and getting everything he wants, and he tastes like mint and sunshine and home. Eddie’s already trying to figure out how he can make sure he kisses Buck like this every day for the rest of his life.

Judging by the enthusiastic reciprocation and small, happy sounds he keeps drinking up, Buck’s on the same page.

They only break apart because they have to breathe, but they don’t go far, foreheads resting together, noses brushing. And as happy as he is, Eddie’s still a little scared — scared that this is all temporary, that it won’t work out, that he’ll lose one of the most important people in his life when he inevitably makes the wrong decision or does the wrong thing.

But then he hears it again, the long forgotten voice, saying He loves you. He won’t let you go and he won’t let you forget. 

The last reservations Eddie has break away, and they fall back in, slotting together like puzzle pieces, drenched in moonlight and peace and hope.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (May 31/2021) - Deck of Cards With a Green Smile on Them

Wilbur and Tommy visit Las Nevadas to have some words with Quackity. 

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VOD LINKS:

Punz

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

Wilbur Soot

Captain Puffy

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- Punz mines out an entire chunk of the server

- Wilbur and Tommy meet at L’manhole. Tommy brings Wilbur to the quarry and shows him the Tommyboxes full of stone

- Tommy and Wilbur walk down the Prime Path and Wilbur notices all the new changes in the builds, including that Purpled’s UFO has been destroyed. Wilbur claims that someone’s being “a copycat” with TNT, figuring out exactly how it was destroyed

(Wilbur is also repeatedly puzzled by the appearance of Oogway throughout the server)

- Wilbur tells Tommy that he received a book: “PROJECT NEVADAS.” It rings a bell, and Tommy says it’s Quackity’s new place that he’s been staying out of

- Wilbur tells Tommy that the book says to come to Nevadas (not saying what it actually reads), and Tommy leads Wilbur there

- The last time Wilbur saw Quackity, they were fighting together for L’manburg -- but he gets the impression, judging by everyone else aside from Jack Manifold, Tommy and Phil, that everyone probably dislikes him. He assumes Quackity won’t have the best impression of him

- Tommy’s never been to Las Nevadas, but the person who told him about it said it was just a little town. They’re awestruck by it as they arrive

- Quackity comes up to meet them, surprised to see Wilbur alive. Tommy asks what happened to his face, but also notices that his piss neck is gone

- Wilbur says he’s glad to see Quackity out of the presidential outfit, and he never thought Quackity was fit for the Vice President role anyway. Quackity tells them that he owns this entire place

Wilbur: “Oh, so you’re -- you’re like a -- a President, then!”

Quackity: “I’m the President, man!”

Wilbur: “...You’re the President.”

- He shows Quackity the book and accepts Quackity’s “invitation” to work alongside him. Tommy asks to move in as well

Quackity: “Wilbur...That was not an invitation, I’m sorry Wilbur...That’s not an invitation. Wilbur, my nation will not be subject to your unpredictability.”

- Wilbur tells Quackity that while he may have been unpredictable in the past, he’s turned over a new leaf and doesn’t lie anymore, he’s forgotten everything he knew about TNT

Wilbur: “Quackity, look me in the eyes...I am your servant. I am at your service, I have run countries, I’ve won elections, I’ve done everything you would need in a leadership role, Quackity! Even not in leadership -- I can be, you know, assistant to the President! Just, I...Quackity, this is everything I’ve dreamt of in a solid marble and quartz...Quackity, you’re making a mistake, man, you need to let me in--”

Tommy: “Wil, this is so cool!”

Wilbur: “TOMMY, SHUT UP! I mean -- Tommy, come over here.”

- Quackity tells him he’s not going to let the same thing that happened to L’manburg happen to Las Nevadas. Tommy points out that it looks like they’re kissing. 

- Wilbur walks around the sandy area asking what Quackity owns, and Quackity owns all of it. Quackity still means to discuss things with Tommy. Wilbur makes his way to the forest next to Las Nevadas

Wilbur: “What’s the point in capitalism without healthy competition?”

- Quackity asks what Wilbur’s about to do. Wilbur leads them over to a nearby spot and welcomes Tommy to their new “headquarters” as they “break ground” there.

- Tommy doesn’t want to start a new country, preferring Las Nevadas. He also repeats that Wilbur and Quackity looked like they were kissing and he feels like he’s getting third-wheeled

- Quackity and Tommy talk one-on-one and Quackity reminds Tommy about how they spoke about the hotel and possibly working together. Tommy brings up Quackity’s eye again, remembering how Quackity has had many “conditions” for a long time

Quackity: “You ever hear about the Butcher Army, Tommy? One day, we were going to execute Technoblade, and we got in a...we got a fight. And this is how this thing showed up on my face.”

- Tommy is surprised that he went to kill Technoblade and asks when this was, if this was during his exile

Tommy: “You’re meaning to tell me that you put in all of the effort to kill Techno instead of helping me?”

- Quackity says he’d be happy to sit down and discuss it, that he’s not Tommy’s enemy. He gives Tommy the choice: Tommy is welcome to join him, even if Wilbur isn’t. He can offer Tommy a management position, a job

- Tommy goes to speak with Wilbur and leaves Quackity, noticing what Wilbur’s built

Wilbur: “It’s a penis of safety!”

- Wilbur asks Tommy to work with him. He won’t stop Tommy, but Tommy is all Wilbur’s got. Jack Manifold’s busy and Phil has ideas about authoritarianism Wilbur disagrees with

Wilbur: “Tommy, I don’t want to make a country. I’m past that, man. I want to make an HQ. I want to make a place where we can be safe for once. Tommy, it’s been so long since we’ve been safe. And man, you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, done so much. Tommy, you’ve changed the world, and all you have to show for it is some scars and some trauma. Tommy, you deserve this safety and this sanctuary, and that’s what I want to make with you, and you won’t get it over there. You know what they say about casinos? It’s all lights and it’s all plastic, it’s all glitter, that there’s nothing of substance. Do you know what has substance, Tommy? Family. Blood. Please stay with me, Tommy.”

- He tells Tommy he needs to make a choice now. 

Wilbur: “I’m not gonna hold you back. If you pick Las Nevadas, what am I gonna do, man? What am I gonna do? I’d never hurt you. I’d never want anything bad for you, Tommy. You can go with whatever you want, but...Just know what you’ll be doing to me. That’s all I wanna say, man.”

Tommy: “There was a time when you weren’t here on this server, this SMP, when I went against...put a lot of things to the side that I shouldn’t have. I prioritized a lot of things -- I put revenge over humanity, humaneness. I guess all I’m seeking now is just someone that’s gonna be honest with me and a place that I can feel safe. I...I betrayed Technoblade, and I just couldn’t admit it. And I did the wrong thing with Tubbo, but...”

Wilbur: “This can be a safe place for them.”

- Tommy agrees to stay here, but dislikes that Wilbur has built the penis into a wall. The two start building a penis in the lake and Quackity comes over. 

Quackity: “History repeats itself, Tommy. You’re just letting this guy use you. You’re letting him emotionally manipulate you.”

- He and Wilbur start talking over each other, bickering

Quackity: “WHO DESTROYED L’MANBURG, TOMMY? THINK ABOUT THAT. THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND.”

Wilbur: “WHO RAN AGAINST YOU? WHO LAUGHED AS WE WERE EXILED? WHO CHEERED AS WE WERE THROWN OUT OF OUR NATION THAT WE BUILT? THAT WE BUILT?”

Quackity: “Who wanted a better outcome for L’manburg, Tommy? Who did? Who wanted to run a ‘democratic election’ with just one party? He’s right up there, Tommy! He’s right up there above you--”

Wilbur: “Remember the pit, Tommy. Remember what happened in the pit. Don’t. Trust. People. Who would’ve fought you in the pit.”

- They continue arguing. 

- Tommy gets a chance to speak and says none of that made him feel safe. Quackity apologizes and offers them a tour of Las Nevadas. They head over and Wilbur apologizes as well

- Quackity shows them around, including the restaurant that they’ll need to hire people for (the villager is no longer there). Wilbur tells Tommy he’d be fine with Tommy working here as long as he’d still hang out with Wilbur too

- They start going to the casino (Wilbur and Quackity both hurry to block off the strip club) and Quackity brings them into the gambling hall, giving them diamonds to try out the machine with

- After using the diamonds, Tommy puts Linda the shovel into the machine and loses the shovel in the machine. Quackity takes them out of the building and to the top of the Needle. Tommy remarks that it would be a good place to jump off of

- Quackity turns to Wilbur and asks how he’s alive. Wilbur explains that he was swapped with Ghostbur

- Quackity remembers the last conversation he and Wilbur had together, just after the elections. The conversation they had after the debates. (Wilbur looks at the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book again) 

Quackity wants to “pick Wilbur’s brain” again

- Wilbur’s lost everything. He’s lost decades, he’s lost most of the people who cared about him and many don’t even know he’s back yet

Wilbur: “Life is paved with the mistakes you make, and it’s not about when you made the mistakes or what you did, it’s about how you can improve from them, and...I guess that’s what I’m trying to do.”

- Wilbur’s seen Jack Manifold, Phil, Ranboo, Tommy and now Quackity so far, but there are a lot of other people who he’d like to talk to and apologize to and thank them

- Tommy tells Quackity he doesn’t want to sit back and run a food stand. Wilbur gets things done. Quackity respects his decision, but this is something else, not another L’manburg

- Quackity asks Wilbur about the revival again, and Wilbur admits that it was Dream who brought him back. Wilbur has many people he wants to thank and say sorry to, and Dream is one of them, as he saved Wilbur’s life. Dream is his hero.

- Quackity asks when this happened, and Wilbur says it’s been a while since, that hopefully Ghostbur isn’t too lonely in Limbo

Quackity: [About Dream] “He’s not been lonely. Wilbur, Wilbur, I think his loneliness is the last of his concerns. I’ve been keeping him company, uh...as he’s been there. I’ve been visiting him quite frequently.”

Wilbur: “What, Dream or Ghostbur? I’m talking about Ghostbur.”

Quackity: “I’m talking about Dream.”

Wilbur: “Oh, gosh! You’ve been visiting him? Oh, he must love that!”

Quackity: “Yeah, no, he likes the company. He likes the company for sure. Uh...it’s a cool little thing, uh...Tommy, you know about this, right?”

Tommy: “Yeah, yeah, Wilbur -- that’s how I got to go and see Dream."

- Tommy tells Wilbur that Dream killed him, to which Quackity says Sam’s bettered the security system (Wilbur’s surprised to hear the prison has a warden and a system to visit) 

Tommy: “Why would anyone want to go to the prison? You’ve been going, Big Q, to torture the shit out of him, I’ve heard...”

Quackity: “Tommy, what? Tommy...Tommy, where did you -- where did you get that from? What are you talking about?”

Tommy: “Well that’s how -- I assumed, ‘cause of the scar, you’ve been going to beat the shit out of him?”

Quackity: “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, don’t say that -- not even as a joke, Tommy, come on.”

- Wilbur says goodbye to Quackity (he has “work to do”) and leaves with Tommy. He’s overjoyed that he can meet Dream through the visitation system, while Tommy protests

- Wilbur throws Tommy the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book, saying that Quackity was writing about the old Wilbur, that Tommy made the right choice in not joining him. 

- Wilbur promises Tommy that going to visit Dream to thank him isn’t a bad decision. He wants to tie up loose ends. Dying is a big deal. This is like a funeral, saying goodbye

Wilbur: “Tommy, all I’m saying is, you know...what could go wrong in a prison?”

- Wilbur leaves. 

- Tommy asks Quackity for an Ender Chest

- He listens to “Cat,” alone in the rain, on a small wooden bench by the lake.

---

Upcoming Events:

- The final Egg lore stream

- Puffy’s lore

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

- Sapnap’s possible lore stream

- Awesamdude lore stream

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere! Armin Arlert Headcanons

AGED UP I REPEAT ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP-

This little blonde ball of curiosity is verrryy toxic in my Yandere version. 

Armin knows how innocent he looks to other people and by playing on this, coupled with his practical and analytical genius status, boy is it so very easy for him to gain the trust of his comrades, friends and especially his Beloved. 

I feel as if Armin wouldn’t be picky with a particular type, but never being attracted to an unkind or particular person he would be disgusted by in any way. 

He may fall for someone who is slightly colder, or who doesn’t really know how to respond to kindness. In that scenario, Armin would be overjoyed, but very patient and giving with them; if he wasn’t Yandere. 

I see him as very touch-starved and wanting, but afraid to be clingy for fear he would drive his Beloved away. In this case he would dote on you as best he could in his environment, making you fall for him even more. 

You would him as endearing, and like most, innocent. Armin is smart; one might say way too smart for his own good, and being a Yandere, I feel this makes him just as dangerous as those willing to use physical violence/methods on their Beloved. 

He knows that you just love his little quirks and his way of thinking. If you tell him this, he may think you only see him as valuable because of his skill for strategizing. But when you reassure him that you just love him for him, he just falls in love with you even more. 

He’s worrisome about you. Every time he makes practise with your ODM gear until you’re bruised, and exhausted, ready to run into his awaiting arms. Rewarding you with cuddles and affection, Armin’s love isn’t exactly conditional; but it still isn’t normal.

But that’s if you accept his feelings, with Armin being a Yandere or not, and with your knowledge or ignorance. 

If you don’t accept his feelings, whether it being for your personal reasons, or because you…um, like someone else, to put it nicely; 

YOU’RE FUCKED. 

He’ll smile, nod his head, maybe try a little too hard to act like he’s okay with your decision. But you understand, after all, it’s not like you haven’t been rejected before. 

“We can always be friends, Armin! I’m here for you okay?” 

“Yeah, Y/N, whatever you say…” 

About a few weeks after his rejection, with all of the support from Eren, Mikasa and the others, Armin is slowly descending into a deep depression. 

He was so sure of his feelings for you. They were his most prized possession. You made him laugh, you made him blush and god you made his pitiful life seem so much more worth living. You were the ocean, and he just wanted to drown myself in you. Like the sun he saw so rarely, you were the ray of pure light that made his body burn. 

He lay awake at night, taunted and enthralled with the thoughts of you in so many different scenarios….maybe in particular, different positions. 

[Yes, those kinda positions. Armin’s not always that innocent, y’all.]

He knows that the more he thinks of you in these appetizing ways, in these hurtfully satisfying scenarios, he’s never going to be able to get over you. 

Rather, he’s not even going to try.

Being trapped in his fantasies, Armin is horrifically aware that these feelings are incredibly toxic, for the both of you. He just won’t let you go. Whatever it takes, Armin will commit whatever crimes he must to keep you in his life. 

He sees you as being misunderstood, especially if you’re typically a colder person, hard to read, detached. Some people compare you to Levi, but Armin just knows that you, like the Corporal, have far more depth than you let on. 

His intrigue doesn’t let up for a long while, as you’re constantly surprising him in new and amazing ways. You’re used to his deep interest in you after a while, but you still don’t understand him. 

Armin thrives on your confusion at first, but if it drives you away from him, he’ll go into tactical mode. Staying up all night,figuring out who is calling your attention to them rather than him and what his next move should be. 

With his intelligence, Armin keeps his sizzling bafflement and envy under wraps. He tells himself that maybe he had unerved you a little. He can get like that sometimes, surely you understood him well enough to know that?He obviously did find you interesting and he was willing to momentarily abandon Eren and Mikasa just to fuel his endless curiosity. 

Keep in mind, this is after you reject him, and his desperation to just know you and love you is greatly overwhelming him to the highest degree. You just won’t allow him to really see you, to understand you. 

Eventually, he snaps. Just not in the typical yandere way. We all know that Armin feels as though he is a nuisance, a self-proclaimed burden so he keeps most of his feelings inside, and lets them loose to either prove a point, or while under stress. 

It takes a minute for him to decide what to do with you, because he knows that once he has made a choice, it has to be the right choice. He has to know and map out a detailed plan, whether it’s doable, whether he’s able to pull it off by himself, etc.

His analytical skills come into play, and he plans everything from the location, time, the equipment needed at exactly what time. By this time, he will have comepletely left you alone; abrupt and brash, and just as he planned, you were surprised. Yes, he wanted to get to know you, and you couldn’t help but feel even slightly violated and maybe even disturbed. 

Your like anyone in the world, have natural curiosity and interest in just about anything. But the unfamiliar feeling of unsettlement around Armin just felt…off.

You secretly knew of his deep infatuation; people always seemed to determined to figure the silent types out, to crack them open, decipher their many secrets. In terms of this analogy, you sort of understand, maybe even sympathise with his endless novelty toward your character, but even so…just why?

Maybe it was the fact that you felt bad for him, in a sad, puppy love kinda way. Maybe you saw him as a traumatized individual, just putting his assumed coping mechanism to work, with you just in the innocent line of fire. 

If he kidnaps you at all, Armin will smother you. Telling you how much you mean to him, explaining that only he can access your wonder and intrigue. Because, after all, he worked this hard to get you; why would he ever share you with anyone else? 

Although he will be stern, he’ll always be nice about it, rewarding you or not. 

You’re an enigma to Armin Arlert, keeping him guessing, testing his patience with all of your being. You don’t know it, but soon you’ll be in his possession.

I headcanon him as seeing your refusal, your blatant rejection as some kind of ‘disease.’ You haven’t even seen the best of him yet, why make up your mind about something that you know almost nothing of? Oh well, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other very soon. He’ll bare his injured soul to you, and you’ll have mo choice but to do the same for him. It’s what married couples do after all, right?

Just let him love you, Y/N. Let Armin adore you. It’s the best thing to do if you want everyone to live.

Glassy, still sapphire eyes simply stared at you in the weak light of a stolen candle. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what they were saying, those beautiful, dangerous, albeit loving eyes. But yet, they also held malice in their abyss’. Endless, bottomless, simply divine they were. That was all you knew.

“Why…do you lie to me?” he murmered. A small, rough palm came to rest against your hollowed cheek, fingertips gently tapping against the skin. Realising how close he truly was, you tried your hardest to get away, shifting in your place in the surprisingly plush, old bed, but all it took was a flash of blonde hair to whip past your face, before he succeeded in holding your arms down.

While he never did this explicitly to punish or harm you, Armin always knew just how to exert his power. Never mind the boundaries that he installed in you the day of your arrival; he didn’t care for them as much as you had to pretend to.

This Armin was unhinged. Normalcy could never be considered in this relationship. He could never understand the pain he put you through. To Armin, it was all in the name of his devotion. All of his interest had been rooted in one fact; you refused to love him.

Once he figured out that you wouldn’t couldn’t love him of your own accord, he became enamoured with something he just knew he could never have.

He had never even thought about taking you, drugging you, dragging you to a secluded spot in the woods, or an out of bounds room, derelict over many years.

“I never intended to take you like this, bunny.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to look him in the eyes, gently lifting your head higher and higher until his blue pools of mere unhinged insanity met your own pained orbs. Seeming to like this, he smiled.

His perfect teeth looked more like fangs in the dim, weak moonlight. It had felt like he had managed to suck every molecule of beauty from even the most simple of things.

His voice sounded like the devil; harsh, unforgiving lilting tones of false hope daring to stroke you face and make you think you had a good chance at happiness.

You didn’t know when he stopped being Armin and began being a monster. You didn’t know if the lines could be blurred any further.

“I never wanted this, Armin-” 

“Don’t play with me, bunny,” he snapped. His slender fingers wound themselves in your clean hair, twisting and searching for a soft spot to pull. When he found it, he lightly tugged; barely, but you still winced from the thought of the last time he did this. 

You still wanted to believe that he was quiet, sweet Armin who still had an unstoppable fascination with you, but he was harmless then. Or was he? Was he faking his intentions? Did he have it planned from the very beginning? 

You wanted to choke yourself for believing his simple demeanour, his dedication to the cause of the Survey Corps just like everyone else. He was a liar. He was a predator in all ways, ensnaring you, his perfect prey. 

Only now had Armin realized just how confused you were. 

You didn’t understand his love for you. You thought he hated you! 

Now that wouldn’t do.

Armin could have have kicked himself. All of his stern discipline and rules stemming from his love and protection meant that you mistook for him being cruel. He was doing this out of his devotion! 

How could he assume you would understand if he never told you, if he never proved his love?

“Armin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I swear-” You took a deep breath, cutting yourself off. Now was not the place or time to be losing your composure; you still were trying to get used to the fact that you were being held against your will. 

“Hush”, he suddenly murmured, gently taking your chin in his fingertips, before moving them to tenderly cup your face, his eyes darting anywhere that he could lay his gaze upon.

The gestures were so tender you found your cheeks erupting with a wild blush, the burning shame hitting you moments later when your hatred and slight fear hit you like a slap to the face. 

Your embarassment only got worse when you felt his soft lips kiss your throat, his warm breath flush against your skin. His hands found themselves back in your hair again, stroking it, petting it, twisting it round and round his finger. His right hand caressed your nape, spreading his fingers so that they only just covered the width of your neck, and he pulled you closer, so that your head was nuzzled into his neck, buried beneath his love and fascination.

It all clicked. 

Armin wasn’t just interested in you. 

He was obessed with you.

Obsessively in love with you. 

You felt pathetic. You felt weak. But in a strange way, you also felt loved. 

You had no choice but to resign yourself to his touch, letting your head fall limp as he cradled you to his chest.

“Good bunny.”

[ask-hunterxhunter]

Helloo royal Guards as yandere please

But without the presence of Meruem because I find it difficult for them to fall in love with Reader while serving the King.

Mmmh, Neferpitou with a Reader male because my headcanon is that she is a infertile female uhhh I dont know how to explain it but I think that in the ant castes there are infertile females that are workers

Yeah, as far as I know, that's how it is with ants... I'm not an expert, but I think the female workers are infertile and care for the queen. Their development depends on how much food they receive when they're larvae. If there is abundance, some larvae will be "princess ants" (fertile and will leave the colony to start their own once the time is right).

Hmm... The Chimera Ants, however, seem to work quite different. Besides the whole "Ant Giving Birth to an Anthro Lion" and what not, they didn't end up starving once the queen died (which I read happens because there are no more larvae and the ants need them to properly feed) and many of them left to try starting colonies of their own (even some of the males seemed to want that, not just females like Zanzan)...

Perhaps this is more like some species of wasp? I've read that the queen produces a pheromone that keeps the others infertile. Once she dies, they battle for dominance in order to become the next queen. With the Chimera, however, they left for new territories rather than stay and fight...

...

Is there an entomologist in the house?

Neferpitou

The royal guards, regardless of Meruem’s presence, are not exactly easy to deal with even in their normal state (and I don’t think this is simply because they are not humans). Take them to Yandere level and, well, let’s just say it is not a pretty picture…

Pitou is not someone whose interest is easily aroused (she is the kind that “knows several people but regards only a few of them as her actual friends”) and, in a sense, the opposite is also true: It’s not easy to lose such interest, either. With her in Yandere-mode, well, it’s basically impossible. Once you’ve realized what is going, taking the usual measures to try dealing with it (such as moving, contacting the police, so on), don’t waste any time hoping she will “move on” or “change targets” as some stalkers do. It's not in her nature (both due to her personality and instincts).

Not that you would certainly realize what is going on right away. It would depend on her mood and how she decides to deal with her feelings (and she can’t change this decision): She may just go for the straight, extreme actions or keep a convincing facade of normality for a while… Regardless of whether this “normality” is you trying to kill each other or being friends (or she at least living in peace among humans)...

In the “enemies” case, Pitou would not spend days brooding about having fallen for an enemy and trying to get rid of those feelings. She would just shrug the situation off and start to debate whether it’s best to kidnap you right away or try to court you. If she’s working with other Ants for whatever reason or they just happen to be in the area, she would make sure everyone knows you are not to be hurt (and may God have mercy on whoever doesn’t listen). Her attacks would still be convincing from your point of view while being harmless playing in Pitou’s mind. After all, she lets you escape with no injures!

The “convincing facade” is more regarding how deep (and unsettling) her feelings are. In both scenarios, she would confess soon and, being what/how she is, likely act on it. No matter how much you explain you’re not interested or what arguments you use, Pitou would just wave her tail, perhaps ask what you mean exactly in that “innocently curious” tone of hers and… Completely ignore what you just said.

Well, okay, maybe you need to remember she isn’t completely human, so you can’t demand that she behaves like one, right?

Oh, boy, are you making a mistake… Not being human doesn’t mean that Pitou doesn’t understand that there are limits.

She understands.

She just couldn’t care less.

Remember when she probed Pokkles’ brain with him still alive? When Gon and Killua saw her for the first time? This is nothing next to how she can be when she’s obsessed with you.

I mentioned she would act on her feelings, right? Here’s another thing: She is also likely to do so in the manner of an animal trying to attract a particular mate. And because we’re talking Yandere-mode, I don’t mean the “bird dancing” or “penguin offering a pebble”. Not even the “cat giving you a dead prey”…

If you’re friends/she’s living in the human society, there would be some restraint at first, to the point her insistence would seem innocent… Then she would either grow impatient and kidnap you, or things would escalate, giving you hints to the darkness of her feelings until you’re forced to accept that this friend is a threat to you. Maybe after returning home, you find a note in your bed in which Pitou wrote that she loves how soft your bed is, how your home’s security is lacking… And, by the way, that person seems to have a crush on you… Hmm… Should she break their hands or their legs? The playful tone of the note only makes it darker.

Somehow you know she is not kidding.

If you’re enemies, well, she has no reason to restrain herself from the start. Her interactions with you would become far darker even if she miiight not kidnap you right away (for whatever reason) especially since she wouldn’t waste time playing by human rules. Pitou would find a way to make a claim (pinning you down, rubbing herself against you like a cat, and even leaving a love bite/hickey on your neck are very much on the table) or say it loud and clear in battle when there are other humans around. This isn’t just for the other humans, but for you as well: You’re hers, now. There is no room for discussion.

Also, in this scenario, it’s not impossible that Pitou’s “love” started with her deciding to make you her pet. Collar and all.

It should be said that Pitou is a cat in almost every sense, so the tendency to “play with her food” is very much present... Yes, she sees you as a “mate” rather than “prey”, but your attempts to avoid/hide from her consist of an opportunity that is far too good to miss! You change address and, after a few days, start to relax… Only for her to leave a new “present” at your door! It’s both funny and cute how you thought something so simple would keep her away! Awww, you’re so adorable!

Again, it’s true that some of her actions (such as this) have no malice whatsoever behind them, but I repeat, don’t let yourself be fooled: She is very much aware that what she is doing is creepy and wrong and why. I’m repeating this because Pitou can be as charming and cute as a cat… And as devious and sadistic as any human.

While some yanderes give you time (perhaps hoping you’ll eventually come around or because chasing you is so much fun), Pitou is among those who won’t take long before deciding to “take you home”.

Pitou loves having you all to herself and will be very affectionate, especially when it’s just the two of you. Maybe this sounds a little cute on principle? Yeah, trust me, it is not. It’s terrifying! Even when you reject her and she caresses your head saying you’re cute, you can see the insanity in her eyes, mixed with a sick infatuation.

It doesn’t help that, at times, her being “affectionate” involves brushing your hair, cuddling and even bathing together. Not only this invasion of space can already be uncomfortable, something about how Pitou does it makes you feel too much like a pet, especially when she talks about how much she loves you, how lovely you are, and how she is never going to let you go. In this situation, and the way she speaks, those words make you feel cold.

You should have realized by now that there is no reasoning with her and this isn’t because she is not human. Pitou is likely to twist your arguments or make points that would frankly make you think she learned from Illumi or Hisoka (and she only does that because she thinks it’s funny, anyway).

As for Pitou, well, she can’t say she is happy that you’re uncomfortable, but she believes it’s just temporary and you’ll get used to your new life… Hey, humans capture animals all the time to put them in zoos or circus. She isn’t that bad in comparison, now, is she?

She’s easily the kind of yandere that responds to pleas for freedom by caressing your head and saying you’re cute. How could she possibly let you go? You’d run away! Besides, she can keep you well-fed and protected. You say such silly things, love!

That’s not to say Pitou doesn’t have a limit to how much rejection she can take or her patience. And this is a line you don’t want to cross. It’s hard to say if Pitou would get to the point of physical punishment, but this doesn’t mean she wouldn’t make use of other means.

Menthuthyoupi.

It’s not easy to catch the attention of any of the Royal Trio, each for their own reasons. In Youpi’s case, it’s partially because he doesn’t have any human DNA on him, so despite being able to communicate and all, he doesn’t usually pay that much attention to people. It’s almost like he’s an alien (or we are, in his view). Even in a scenario when he is living in peace with humans, he doesn’t have exactly a clear opinion about them. They just exist. Maybe a few of them are okay enough, but that’s it… And in a scenario when he is still fighting them, well, they are the enemy. It’s pretty simple.

Youpi is direct, both in personality and as a Chimera Ant (in that he follows his instincts without hesitation). As such, like Pitou, he wouldn’t avoid his feelings once he comes to understand them. It’s a little strange, yes, but he accepts the fact that he loves you and that’s it. That said, Youpi would be initially confused (especially if you’re an enemy. How on Earth did he develop this sort of feeling for someone he’s supposed to kill?), and he wouldn’t make a move until he is sure of what he is feeling and what he wants.

Sadly, because this isn’t him in a healthy state of mind, this doesn’t mean anything good for you. This isn’t a shy monster-boy finding a human he considers special. This isn’t even “enemies falling in love” or “dark romance”. This is an “already dangerous individual” developing an equally dangerous obsession.

At first, Youpi starts to stalk you (if you’re his enemy/if you’ve never spoken before) or try to find excuses to spend more time with you (if you’re on friendly terms) in this attempt to understand exactly what is going on with himself. During this time, his feelings for you become stronger along with his desire to know everything about you. He’s curious. He’s fascinated. He wants to see you more often. He wants to talk with you… He just wants to be near you…

It’s pretty disturbing because, despite his size, Youpi will find the means to stalk you without anyone realizing it, just like an animal hunting. You may notice a shadow here and now, feel a chill up your spine, but it won’t be enough to make the danger clear enough. If you two are enemies, there are chances you’ll realize that there is something is wrong, as he either avoids fighting you (no issues with anyone else, though) or that he doesn’t seem to be actively trying to hurt you as much as before… Despite this, you’ll never, ever imagine he is in love with you.

Well, disturbing as it may be, it sounds almost as harmless as he can be in this scenario, right?

Not the case. You can’t forget how obsession grows, how it affects a person, and that it gets to the point when merely stalking isn’t enough. There is no such thing as a harmless yandere/stalker. So even if Youpi, at first, is satisfied with merely watching you from afar and making sure you aren’t hurt, it starts to not be enough. He sees you with your friends, smiling at them, hugging them, laughing… And he starts to imagine how it would be to have you doing these things with him, to be the one who makes you smile, to be the one holding you… And he realizes he wants it.

He loves you. He wants you.

And there is no reason to not act on those feelings.

Regardless of the circumstances between you, he seems to take the rejection well (if you manage to control the shock, act calmly and explain your reasons for it). At first, he thinks about your points and may even understand them… Only to find out that he doesn’t care. He can’t forget you. He can’t let go of you… And honestly, he doesn’t really want to. That you don’t feel the same now doesn’t matter. Don’t some couples start not feeling the same for each other, only for those feelings to change later?

In the case of “peaceful existence”, it might be easier to get a glimpse of his instability than with the Neferpitou, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Even the precautions people normally take in those situations would only work for a certain time… The myth of the animal that “will pursue its prey to the ends of the Earth once it has its scent” is true when it comes down to Youpi (literally even).

Now, while Youpi is less likely to resort to kidnapping (at least right away), he would still find ways to inject himself into your life, so even then, you can’t say you’re free. He may not go straight to threatening your loved ones (and it’s hard to predict if he would follow with it), but there are many other tactics that he could and would use.

And being less likely to kidnap you doesn’t mean he wouldn’t if he didn’t decide it is the better course of action. After all, no matter how strong you prove yourself to be, it doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt. If he keeps you, he can’t make sure you’re safe.

Either way, there is no way to be free of him.

If he kidnapped you, Youpi wouldn’t go so far as to place you in an actual cage or chain you up, but he would find means to make sure you can’t leave.

He is easily the most patient of the trio, including with your rejections and attempts to escape. It doesn’t please him and nothing can convince him to let you go, but at least Youpi doesn’t get angry, condescending, or twist things around. In fact, it gets to the point when you can lose control and try hitting him that he wouldn’t even raise his voice. He would just hold your wrists (carefully) and try to calm you down…

Now, just because he isn’t human, it doesn’t mean Youpi is unable to understand that what he is doing is wrong and why you’re so unhappy. Hey, animals also don’t like to be taken from the place they consider their home like that. He can relate, he can understand. But his obsession is too great for him to let you go and, instead, he hopes that you’ll adapt with time.

Not having human genes and understanding even less about humans than Pitou and Pouf, in his desire to make you comfortable (and make you accept him), Youpi would likely try to learn what he can about humans (probably even asking for Pitou’s help).

For Youpi, your presence alone makes him feel good. While he wouldn’t force you into things that make you uncomfortable or excessively invade your personal space the way Pitou might, there would still be times when Youpi would want to show you some affection. Chances are, he would enjoy holding you close (especially because, next to him, you feel so small and cute) and nuzzling you, which is not only a common expression of affection among animals, but it also gives him an extra opportunity to enjoy your scent.

Youpi might be less cruel than most of yanderes, but this doesn’t mean much. At the end of the day, whether he has kidnapped you or not, the situation is still essentially the same. You’re being hurt either way…

Shaiapouf.

Even in his normal state of mind, for all his apparent calmness and self-control, it’s been showed several times that Pouf can be actually quite intense with his emotions, to the point they cloud his thoughts (and that’s a polite way to say it). Well, multiply that by a thousand and you’ll only scratch the surface of how he becomes as a Yandere.

Even if, by some miracle, this is a scenario where Pouf lives peacefully with humans it doesn’t mean he likes them. It’s more that he “tolerates” and “accepts” their existence as an unpleasant fact and it’s very much unlikely he would have human friends (he would probably find a way to live with comfort and luxury while having as little contact as possible with them). In a sense, you can compare him to some yokais in Inuyasha… He doesn’t go out of his way to antagonize humans (and risk a fight), but he sure as hell doesn’t care for them.

Until you, that is.

Pouf will never be able to say when his feelings for you started to grow and it will take a long time for him to understand them. By the time this happens, well, he is way into “Obsession Land”. Once he can no longer deny what he feels and it hits him that he loves you, his first reaction is… Well, pretty much an emotional tantrum, followed by self-despise and intense fury. How could he ever fall for a human? Disgraceful! Terrible! How could he fall so low? He even tries to hate you for making him feel that way, only to realize he can’t.

This lasts for a while, with him trying to convince himself to bury those feelings, no matter what it takes. If you two are enemies, be prepared: Pouf may consider killing you as the only way to “get rid of this shame”. He soon realizes he can’t bear the idea of you being hurt, let alone by him (well, like this, I mean)… But at least you’re not having to deal with his obsession yet.

Sadly, it doesn’t mean this will last long enough for something to happen before things get out of control. Pouf can’t get you out of his mind, possibly deciding to “observe you” in order to “remind himself” that you’re just a human: Flawed, inferior, and unworthy. This evolves into stalking and has the opposite effect: He becomes more and more infatuated, as well as worried that you might get hurt. You’re so beautiful, so gentle… You should not be fighting! At all! Oh, you’re an angel. No wonder he fell for you! You’re perfect for him!

If this is the “peaceful scenario”, the course of events is still pretty similar, no matter how you’ve met. At first, wanting to get you out of his system, he may be cold whenever you meet and even a little nasty, but it won’t work. He will start to long for more of your presence and if he manages to spend time with you, to consider you only of the few (if not the only) human who is better than the rest of the masses.

Either way, once he accepts that he loves you, you’re screwed.

In the “enemy scenario”, Pouf may try once to convince you to come with him, speaking highly of you and how much he loves you… In his mind, it’s poetry. In reality? The words may be pretty, but the way he says them, the shine in his eyes, the way he insists to hold your hands between his… Well, it’s creepy. Pouf may accept you denying him for a while, but it won’t take long until he seizes the first chance he has to take you. He was just being polite, offering you the chance of doing so by choice (if he does that when you’re gravely injured in a battle, he will use that frequently to point out he saved you and how you need him to keep you safe).

In the “peaceful scenario”, again, it’s not that much a different course of events. Your attempts to make him understand you’re not interested are ignored and there is precious little that anyone can do to keep you safe and, yes, including the Hunter Organization. He would do everything to get you.

In his mind, he is not doing anything wrong. If anything, his actions are almost heroic and proof of his devotion to you.

When you wake up in an unknown location and start to freak out or try to escape, Pouf reacts as if this is just adorable, then going on about how he loves you and wants to keep you safe. And let me tell you, this isn’t a “flowery speech” or like his funny moments in the anime. At this moment you realize you’re in a lot of trouble and that the chances of Pouf ever letting you go are non-existent.

It's not easy to determine exactly how deep his delusion goes; if it’s only about the “perfect life” you two will share or if it includes you. It’s not impossible that Pouf isn’t really in love with you, but rather an idealized version of you. He may also believe that, deep down, you do love him and just need time to realize it.

Pouf is the “adoring” kind of Yandere. He would love to spoil you, care for you, and would want to lavish you with gifts. Perhaps you’d expect him to be the less dangerous of the trio, or at least the most manageable, right? You’re dead wrong. Pouf is actually the worst of them, maybe even on the list of the worst yanderes of all Hunter cast.

His personality also means Pouf doesn’t believe anyone is worthy of your attention and if there is anyone you like (or that he thinks you like), it’s just because they’re manipulative and toxic. It’s his sacred duty to keep you safe from such scum! Perhaps the better term for him, rather than “jealous”, would be “possessive”. As far as he is concerned, you have no need to get in contact with another human ever again.

You thought he hated Komugi? Trust me, that was nothing compared to this.

He would lock you in a room, which you’d only leave while accompanied by him (he can’t have you trying to run off, can he?). Actually… If that happens, you should be glad. This guy isn’t above placing bars along a corner of his chambers (they are certainly large enough), turning that area into your “room” (bed and all). It certainly would appeal to him, especially since it gives him more chance to watch you.

There are stories about how excessive love can be suffocating, the “The Chaser” episode from the “Twilight Zone”… Well, Pouf’s love wouldn’t follow this line. This would be just tiresome. His adoration is frightening, even for a Yandere. The way he’s so sweet to you is mixed with a certain darkness, not letting you forget you’re dealing with an unstable person.

He understands this is a time of adaptation for you and this change of life is a shock, but he wouldn’t be happy if you asked him to let you go every day. In the same sickly-sweet way of always, he will mix subtle (or not so subtle) threats with words of adoration. Maybe he should chain you up… Maybe you’re thinking about that person who (he believes) has a crush on you? Maybe he should make sure you never think of them again…

There is also the fact that Pouf is among the Yanderes who would have almost no respect for your personal space. For all his adoration of you, he can be quite manipulative and controlling: If he wants to hold you in his lap, brush your hair, have you sleeping next to him, dance with you, well… There is little point in fighting. You would have to choose your battles wisely and keep in mind that Pouf isn’t above tying you up if you “start to be difficult”. Some Yanderes are happy enough with having you with them and may have enough patience to “wait for you to love them back”… Well, with Pouf, it depends on his mood.

There would be times when his behavior is all “patient and loving” (more like he just smiles when you try to get away or lash out)… And times when he would basically “demand” that you love him. Not with words, though: You’d learn that there are times when it’s safer for you to act a little more loving towards him (within reason) rather than antagonize him.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

[cmyknoise]

okay but, with the egg once again back in the picture, and seemingly more resistant and possibly powerful than ever (and probably very, very angry) 

i think it’s set up almost perfect for it to get involved with some people it hadn’t before. 

namely wilbur, but for the same reasons i give to wilbur, i can see it also apply to various members of las nevadas. 

the egg preys on people who want something. the egg takes advantage of their wants and fears and offers them everything in return for people to do it's biding and to give in to it's influence. in turn, the egg doesn’t really give anything. it gives false promises. it essentially doesn’t hurt it’s followers directly, or at least, it hasn’t yet.

in the case of bad, the egg offered him skeppy. in the case of ant, the egg offered him something to do with a past lover who is either dead or mia (implied to be red velvet). in the case of ponk and hannah, they didn’t have anywhere really to turn to (in hannah’s case, she was also locked inside the egg for a long long time and forced under its influence) in the case of punz, it seems to have been riches. 

whatever the case, none of the followers of the egg got what they wanted, and the egg took more from them. it took away their relationships and health and ruined their mental psyche and many other things. 

since the red banquet, the eggheads have since escaped the egg’s influence, and many have voiced deep regret for their actions. 

the egg is festering. it’s more powerful than it ever has been. it’s not spreading on the surface, but the entire banquet room is impervious to explosions, and the egg harms a person worth half their health if any of these blocks are broken by hand- this includes tommy now (who before had been completely immune to this). 

the last time it’s grown and done such a thing, bad things follow after. things get worse. 

it currently has no followers that we know of- however there are quite a few candidates on the server who fit the egg’s target demographic. desperate, in need of something, and willing to do whatever to get it. 

wilbur. wilbur fits this bill perfectly. he wants nothing more than to be treated like human again, to be treated like a normal person. he wants nothing more than a fresh restart. the egg need only whisper it’s promises of a world where everyone respects him, where they don’t fear him, and in return he works for the egg. 

most of las nevadas also fit this bill- they have desperate wants, i mean it’s almost the entire reason they’re in nevadas in the first place. quackity has taken things away from them or pointed things out to them which makes it obvious how desperate they want things. 

purpled wants to leave something behind. fundy wants family and friends, as well as to have a normal and happy life. foolish doesn’t want things to feel empty. even quackity himself- he not only wants power and money and safety of his nation (but he also wants people too, particularly his fiances which he’s referened he misses quite deeply).

they are perfect for the egg’s next following. most in nevadas however have experience with the egg and know to stay far, far away from it.

wilbur though...wilbur knows nothing of the egg. he’s never seen what it left behind. he never saw it’s influence on people. he never saw how it made tubbo cry or how it changed nice people like bad and ant for the worst. he doesn’t know it’s bad, he doesn’t know what it can do. 

the egg can offer him everything he wants, and with how desperate he’s been lately, how could he not refuse? sure, he doesn’t trust easy...but what is trust when you so badly just want to be treated human? besides, how would he know any better? 

and how fitting is it that he doesn’t want to make the wrong step, the wrong decision. he doesn’t want to be viewed as a villain and he fears him slipping up and being seen as such. 

well, he wouldn’t know a step into the egg’s clutches would be that bad, and with how the egg works, he’d be blind to seeing how bad it is once he’s under it’s influence...and we know that wilbur can be dangerous. he has the ability to be dangerous, even if he doesn’t want to be.

this sets up conflict, a huge conflict, but just as much as it does, it leaves a huge opening for the beginning of wilbur being able to ‘prove’ himself. 

this idea and potential has infinite directions it could go, but hypothetically if he does avoid the grasp of the egg. what better a way to prove himself but fighting against the egg? or, is it proof enough to resist the egg’s promises and to fight temptation?

if he does fall under influence, him breaking free could be a proof of strength and willpower. being under the egg’s influence and false reality may also be a way to show him that there are people around him who don’t fear him, who already treats him well and human, and that maybe they’re all he needs. 

i’m just saying that wilbur is highly supceptable to the egg and this could get interesting, especially since most people around him are also involved with the egg. 

ranboo and tommy are immune to the egg’s influence, it seems, and feel no emotion around it (according to the eggheads, that’s the most dangerous). 

tubbo is so sensitive to the egg that being near it causes him to see horrors which leaves him a sobbing mess, almost unable to move. 

quackity is largely against the egg and has even been one to put a stop to it in the past. 

[vickyvicarious]

Just as I was about to go to sleep last night, I got a brain flash that went basically "something something flashback episode thiefsome themes???" so now in the light of day let's re-examine. This still isn't anything too polished, but... I think there's some interesting stuff to be found here.

Putting it under a tag so it doesn't clog up peoples' dashes too much, but the gist is that their roles actually represent their relationships/desires at each respective point in canon quite well, and it's giving me some thoughts about what a possible flashback with Hardison/Eliot would look like.

In the van Gogh Job, we get flashback Parker/Hardison. Obviously it wasn't them and the names are different and all but I'm just gonna call them f!Hardison and f!Parker because it's easier.

f!Hardison is brave, clever, determined, and deeply in love

f!Parker is loyal, comfortable, just as deeply in love, but terrified

Their flashback story is a cautionary tale as much as it is a romance. F!Hardison shares so many traits with Hardison himself, and f!Parker is a clear representation of current Parker. They make no bones about it, the parallels are extremely obvious and are even what makes the guy start telling Parker his story in the first place. Parker loves Hardison but she has found a place to belong in the team (flashback town/roller rink) and is afraid of what will happen if she disturbs that status quo by getting into a relationship with him. She's too scared of losing him (flashback to her racist dad/his buddies killing or hurting him, modern to the possibility of death mostly) to take the step to actually be with him, even though they both know she wants to. I love that there isn't any hint of her doubting his feelings or that he will remain devoted in either flashback or modern; the focus is entirely on her own fears for him and how she would handle that, not ever of him in any way.

Regardless of the timeframe, it's clear that (f!)Hardison loves her and will respect what she is willing to give him, even if that means leaving her. In the flashback, f!Parker still loves him and saves his painting in his honor for the rest of her life, remaining loyal to him despite never seeing him again. None of the emotion is in question at all, and it's clear that if she is willing to give it, her faith in him will be completely justified.

The episode basically just acts out Parker's fears (puppet-style?) and demonstrates to her that even though she would be fine if she doesn't take the leap - she'll be so much happier if she does. There's no guarantee of a happy ending, but Hardison is still himself and that means that before that ending comes at the very least, she will be happy. (Much like Sophie's beautiful speech to her.) Parker was already beginning to ease into a relationship with him, and this episode doesn't exactly drive her to jump in headfirst, but it's clear when we watch her reaction to the story what she will choose. She's going to build up her courage, but she's going to take the risk.

.

Now, given how transparent that episode is on their pairing, I kind of wondered what would happen if I look at the one that pairs Parker/Eliot's flashback selves: the D.B. Cooper Job.

f!Parker is understanding, supportive, loyal, and gives him a place to belong

f!Eliot starts out doing something bad for the sake of someone he loves, is drawn to her, and later feels wracked by guilt and seeks redemption by helping others

The focus in this one obviously isn't on the romance. It isn't even on either of these characters, so much as it is on Nate and his flashback self. But the parallels between modern and f!Eliot are still pretty apparent, if a bit watered down in that f!Eliot has no intentions to hurt anyone and in fact takes pains not to do so.

But as far as pairings go, I think what they do between these two is pretty interesting. Their flashback characters are drawn to one another, feel a kind of understanding and recognition that they can't quite explain. It's why f!Parker stops him before he jumps and never gives him up, it's why f!Eliot trusts her in the first place and why he shows up at her door after it is all over. I think this is a really nice parallel to the way Eliot and Parker understand one another and have this connection that is different from the rest of the team.

The other thing I like a lot is that in this episode, f!Parker is the steady support. She represents the home f!Eliot longs to have, even if she isn't the one who eventually offers him the chance to help others and make his own redemptive efforts. In fact, him working with f!Nate starts out for selfish reasons and only later evolves into a place where he feels he belongs. That's another obvious parallel to the Eliot we know, but the Parker in this episode is a little less immediately recognizable. Sure, she's an incredibly loyal person and will obviously not care overmuch about crime or whatever but mostly it's harder to see her as much in that role.

But I think she serves much the same role here as f!Hardison in the other episode. Though modern Eliot isn't hearing this story and making any resolutions based on it, the casting still represents their relationship. Parker is growing steadily into the position of leader/mastermind, and at this point she and Hardison are openly together. She is someone who understands Eliot on a very deep level, and she is coming to be the person who is his rock. While I'm not discounting Hardison's importance at all, Parker more closely fits the role of the person who encouraged him to take the job in this flashback. She's the one who, only three episodes later in Rundown, verbalizes a promise to change together. She (and also Hardison) represent the home Eliot craves to have, the belonging and support necessary for him to grow and to do good in the world. What's more, f!Parker is accurate in representing her side of things as someone who wants that for him. She wants to invite him in, wants to support him even if it's from a bit more of a distance at first (pre-relationship) but would absolutely welcome him inside as soon as he shows up at her door (once he's ready, she will bring him into the thiefsome).

And Rundown shows us that in action, again only three episodes later. Not in the sense of canon thiefsome, but Parker and Hardison are absolutely supporting Eliot leaving his darker past behind, changing with them for the better - and not just getting away with his own hands clean, but doing the extra work to help others (going after the guy who tried to hire him instead of just leaving town; again when they realize how serious the situation is but stay to fix it). The episode even ends with Eliot literally throwing away the crutch that would allow him to walk on his own, and pull them both in to support him instead. He's in the middle, he's deciding to join them even if he could get by alone, it's all representative for them welcoming him into the relationship too. (I headcanon something went down between them here but it isn't all cleared up relationship-wise until the Toy Job, but either way the themes are there!)

.

So with this in mind... The flashback with Hardison/Parker focused on Parker and her fears/decision to enter into a relationship with Hardison. Similarly, the flashback with Eliot/Parker focuses more on him and his desire to join the relationship. For both of them, the episode represents a shift in their relationship with one another, something not entirely unknown before, but a step that is challenging for them personally. Still, this step leads to greater happiness and growth.

All that in mind... what would a Hardison/Eliot episode look like, if we got it in Redemption? I'm getting into slight spoiler territory here, so leave now if you haven't seen the first few episodes.

.

.

Okay, so since we've had more focus on Parker, and on Eliot, this episode would focus most on Hardison. It makes sense as well for his role in the new series, because while Parker and Eliot are a little more stable, Hardison is the one entering a challenging new period of his life that is difficult but helping him grow.

I don't have any kind of full plot figured out, but here are some things I think we might see:

f!Eliot is supportive, confident, and believes deeply in him

f!Hardison is bold, struggles with self-doubt, and upends his own life in order to change the world for the better

I think Eliot's role in this flashback would be smaller, but he'd love f!Hardison deeply and the focus would not be on their relationship developing, but on the challenges it would face as f!Hardison embarks on... whatever it is. It has to be something f!Eliot knows he cannot do, and maybe even something that might mean the end of their relationship (though much like the van gogh job, the love between them is never in question).

I've seen people mentioning a Stonewall flashback episode for these two before, and that's possible. But another thing we could see is f!Hardison working against racist laws or something. Whatever the case, he needs to be doing something that benefits many, many other people, and it needs to put him at personal risk. I'm not entirely sure on what would be holding Eliot back from helping in the same way - it may just be as simple as f!Hardison gives amazing speeches and inspires so many people, while f!Eliot just doesn't have that skill. Maybe he is sick. Maybe, their relationship does end up attracting violence, and he gets hurt (doesn't even have to be their romantic relationship, if we're going a race angle and setting this episode further back, it could just be an open friendship with their romance kept secret. the themes would still be there). Whatever the case, f!Hardison has to leave Eliot behind.

And yeah, this has already happened in canon. We're already here. But if we wanted this episode to happen, I think it would be possible for the themes to still be relevant and the challenge to still be there for Hardison's character, if something brings him back to the team. If something goes down and he isn't there, and it terrifies him that he wasn't there, and he has trouble leaving again even though his work isn't done. Or if he organizes something on his end of the world that goes horribly wrong somehow. Sometimes it's not the first step that's hardest, it's keeping on even after the first big challenge. No road is free of bumps, after all, so Hardison might well think he's fine at first but start having doubts even after things have been going well for a while.

That is where you can bring this episode into play. That's where you start - f!Hardison is already getting involved in activism of some kind, but his own fame brings about negative consequences or something unrelated happens, and it scares him and makes him consider giving his work up. The episode can be bittersweet, with them never reuniting, or it can have a happier ending where he returns and f!Eliot is still waiting for him. But it's important for Eliot to represent a home that Hardison is already comfortable in, and one he has to leave in order to help others (however temporary the leaving is). And we need to see him away from the team, thriving and growing and improving so many peoples' lives in ways that never would have happened without him - both in the flashback, and in the modern part of the episode. In fact, Hardison doesn't even need to actually be physically with the team at all in the modern part of the episode. It can be more like the Broken Wing job, where we get hints at what they are doing but the focus is entirely on him and his struggle.

Of course, I have no idea how this would tie in to a modern heist. But maybe the format could be changed up, if we focus more on Hardison outside of the team. I'm sure there's some way this could be worked. And I think it would do really well in completing the trio of thiefsome episodes, and giving equal emphasis on all three of them in each one.

[plush-rabbit]

A Protective Partner - Tomura Shigaraki Headcanons

Request: hi- im really sorry to bother you but ive been going through a tough time lately, stuff with my past and all but your writing has really been helping me through it. ive kind of been ghost binging your work and its one of the few things that calms me down as of late. i was wondering if maybe you could do a fic, a drabble, or even just some hcs about shigaraki who loves his s/o with everything he has, is just protective and won't let anything bad happen to her? just vows to protect her and let's her know that. i know its pretty soft and vague, but id just really like to read some whole-hearted love stuff right now, even if its blown completely out of proportion. dunno if you'll see this, but if you do, please don't feel obligated to answer or anything! i mostly just wanted to thank you for creating content that genuinely makes me feel better. i hope you have an awesome day/night! <3

A/N: I hope that you like it!! Feel better spoon!! Im always happy to talk to yall if youre going through stuff!! I hope that you enjoyed this. I always try to keep things realistic in a way when i write so i really hope that this was cute!!

-

Tomura isn’t quite the best with words. Living a sheltered life altered him, deprived him of the basic social skills and made a man who has set beliefs and morals. No matter the part of the relationship- the beginning stages of friendship, the trust gained and lost, the soft touches that burn against his skin, and the relationship part- it still remains forgin to him. It’s still something that he works on, that he grows and mimics. The parts that should be easy don’t read that way to him. He wants to prove to you and to himself that he isn’t just another chess piece but that he is his own person.

Though with stunted social skills, he still tries his best. He may not be the best at figuring out which emotion you are growing through nor can he properly read them, but he tries. Every touch is tentative until you reciprocate back towards him, your own hand twisting against his, your warmth pressed against his side, and your lips ghosting over his; every touch is something that he reaches with such carefulness as if he were to be pricked by a thorn. A simple touch makes his breath hitch and his heart skip a beat, a tender kiss against the scar near his eye makes him let out a shaky breath- he is so starved for affection that he is unable to word what he wants properly. He can try to act aloof but he knows when he’s been caught with a red face and a creeping smile that won’t falter so easily.

As the relationship develops, he’s able to tell when you’ve grown agitated or when you simply aren’t feeling your best. He understands that- he’s gone through huge shifts in his villainous career and while he may have been best when left alone and time to cool off, he knows that you are different from him. He doesn’t want to push so much, rather he’ll ask you if everything is okay, his hand reaching out to give yours a squeeze before releasing it and a pack of fruit snacks placed in your hands. Even then, he doesn’t relent, he may not push for an answer but he pushes for your time, wanting to be beside you even in silence to simply just sit and be in each other’s company.

More than likely, he’ll let you be in your thoughts for a day or two before confronting you- actually confronting you and asking you to tell him what’s wrong. He knows you’ve been acting differently- he can see the forced smiles, the way your eyes droop and how you distance yourself from the others in subtle ways from making yourself smaller to engaging with simple answers. His weight shifts in each foot, his hands clenched and a beginning redness starts to creep from his neck up towards his face. He doesn’t wait for an answer, rather letting out a sigh and sitting beside you as close as he can.

You can only suffer in silence for so long before he holds out his hand to you. An artist's glove covers his ring and pinky finger, his palm facing towards the cracked ceiling with the dim lighting making his features seem sharp, the shadow it casts grazing his profile and hiding the red that tints his face. He doesn’t verbally ask for your hand, rather letting it stay there as an offering for you to hold it or not. He wants for you to make that decision rather than him making it for you.

After several minutes of silence with his hand extended out towards you, your hand fits into his. Your fingers interlace with one another, the fabric soft against your bare skin. He takes this as his chance to talk, to let you slowly become comfortable in his presence, letting you know that you don’t have to talk, you can simply be there and he’ll be right beside you.

While he may not express it verbally, physical contact is something that he has grown to love. He believed that he could have lived without it, lived with the fact knowing that his hands could cause decay, but he wonders if that was something that he made up to ease the pain. He relishes in your touch, leans towards your warmth and loves to know that he can hold you with fear that you’ll leave him.

Your words come out slowly, a brief whisper that’s pained about how everything has suddenly gotten a bit too much. Your laugh is bitter, your eyes downcast and he can see a faint reddening of your cheeks, the brief color of red that settles against your skin and the way that you start to shift, looking at everything but at nothing, your eyes flickering around the room but never meeting his own eyes. Your voice tightens, your words tense and cracked between and he can see your facade slip for a moment, the eyes your eyes shine and how you suck in a deep breath of air through your teeth and the painful hold you have of his hand. You turn to him with a trembling bottom lip and a reddened nose, your eyes shining with tears. You slowly let go of his hand and call his name, your knee bumping against his as you turn to him.

His arms are solid against you, his hands pressed flat against your back as he pushes you close to him. You let out a short whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your nose pressed against a pulsing point where he softly knocks his head against yours. Once he’s deemed that enough time has passed, he’ll pull away from you, cupping your face in his hands as he tells you that he would protect you against anything and everything. No matter what it is or who it is, he will always be on your side, he’ll protect you until his dying breath.

Slowly his hands fall from cupping your face to curving to your neck and towards the back of your head, tapping lightly to have you lean towards him. His lips press against the tip of your nose and he can hear your airy scoof, your lips tilting upwards as you wipe at your eyes. If there’s anything to describe Tomura, it’s passionate. He’s passionate about his goals, aiming to do whatever he can to make sure his version of the future comes into fruition, passionate about those close to him, becoming distraught at their absence and wanting to make sure that when he succeeds, whatever they want, they’ll receive. You’re one of the few people that he cares for, the lucky few that he would take with him to the ends of the world, to give you all that you ask for as long as you let him rest beside you.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 6)

Summary: The reader and Jensen discuss their relationship moving forward while Jensen learns more about the reader’s family situation. He still has a bad feeling about something though and his gut may prove to be right...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 5,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, mention of prior suicide attempt, minor violence

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

You woke up to Jensen bundled up in bed, covers tugged to his chin as he sleepily watched you stretching in bed. You giggled at him and his bed head, rolling closer and kissing him good morning.

“That is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you said.

“Obviously you don’t look at the mirror much,” he said. You smiled and he reached his arm under the covers, putting a hand on your waist. You scooted over, Jensen blinking slowly. “We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” you asked. He bopped your nose and you smiled, tucking down into the sheets. 

“Do you want a relationship?” he asked.

“Do you?”

“It would make my job...difficult.”

“Oh.”

“Not impossible. Just difficult.”

“Is it any more difficult than it was? I mean honestly. What’ll have changed? You still keep me safe and I still hide and run if you say so.”

“That part hasn’t changed. But there is something that has. A wildcard factor. Wildcard factors aren’t great in this job.”

“What’s a wildcard?”

“In a dangerous situation, if we were in a relationship, there’s the potential that you would do something to put yourself in harm’s way to protect me.”

“If that happened, regardless of us being in a relationship, if your ass is on the line, I can’t guarantee I do as told.”

“I don’t like that answer.”

“Jensen, if we do this, you need to trust me. I will do what you tell me when it comes to threats but I can’t say for sure that I won’t try to help you if I can.”

“So if it comes down to it, you’ll do whatever you want in the end.”

“Exactly.”

“If when I’m in bodyguard mode, you do what I say...I will learn to be okay with that very small possibility.”

“Good choice,” you said. You slid a hand around his back and traced up and down his spine, feeling a thin line raised on the skin. “What happened there?”

“Not advised to jump from of a speeding vehicle,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. “I was four wheeling once. Went off trail accidentally. Had to ditch my ride in a hurry. A bit of gravel-”

“Liar,” you said quietly. You smiled and he looked over your head.

“How’d you know?”

“I’m pretty good at knowing when people are acting,” you said. “You get it in combat?”

“Shrapnel got my vest.”

“You’re still lying.”

“It’s not pleasant. I’d rather not...scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you said.

“I was held captive once. Very, very briefly. I got a little beat up,” he said. 

“You?” you asked, Jensen nodding, sliding his hand up and playing with the end of your hair. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Thanks. I don’t like to talk about that stuff a lot,” he said. 

“If you ever change your mind, I’m a good listener,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. “You like scrambled eggs?”

“Who doesn’t?” you asked. He smirked and kissed your cheek before he popped out of bed. 

“Well I’m about to blow your mind with the Ackles special,” he said. He walked around the bed and picked up his underwear, turning when he noticed you watching him. You looked him up and down, Jensen laughing to himself. “I saw you checking me out when I was swimming you know.”

You groaned and pulled the sheets over your head. He moved around for a moment and you felt the sheets come down, Jensen leaning over you.

“I had to tease a bit, make sure things were mutual,” he said. 

“Of course you did.” You stretched and yawned, closing your eyes.

“Doing anything fun with your family today?”

“Shopping with my mom will be fun. I’m not the biggest shopper but she likes it. We’ll get lunch, hit a few stores, get a massage after. I think Chuck and the guys are going looking at houses for the boys. Sounds like they might get a place together again.”

“Would you like your brothers to live closer?” he asked. You sat up and held the covers to your chest, Jensen handing you his shirt. You pulled it on over yourself, shrugging as you sat on your knees. “Why do you interact with them if you don’t like them?”

“How long have your parents been married?”

“All my life. Before that,” he said.

“No step siblings, half siblings?”

“My brother and sister share the same parents I do,” he said. “I don’t quite know what it’s like to live in a family like that I guess.”

“My mom went to a very dark place after my dad died. I didn’t know how to fix it. Chuck made her laugh for the first time in six months. He made her smile. He helped her and she helped him too. His wife died earlier on that year. He made her so happy, makes her so happy. I will put up with a few mean step-brothers to never see her go to that place again.”

“I would understand if they resented your mom but it’s you it seems they don’t like.”

“I was the youngest by quite a bit. Chuck would spend time with me. I think the boys were jealous and they probably could have done with more time with their father back then. They’d lost their mom that year too. But I needed him, mom needed him, he was mourning himself...he did the best job he could considering how fucked up we all were. They’re both successful. I just don’t think they liked having a little sister honestly.”

“Sucks for them. Little sisters are cool,” he said with a smile. “My big brother loves to mess with me but he doesn’t treat me the way those two do.”

“Well, even if they move here, I don’t have to hang out with them,” you said. You crawled into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I heard someone’s a little cocky about their scrambled eggs.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” he said. He stood up with you before letting you get your feet under you. You pulled on your underwear and followed him downstairs, whistling as you took in his backside. “Y/N…”

“My bodyguard is hot and he should know it,” you said. He shook his head and headed into the kitchen humming to himself as he started to make up some breakfast for the two of you. The doorbell rang and you groaned. “I bet that’s my mom, early as always. I’ll get her out of here.”

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I plan on doing things to you after breakfast and I do not want her around for that,” you said. He laughed as you padded down the hall and to the front door. You cracked it open a smidge and saw a man in a suit standing there, his back to you. He spun around with a smile and you nodded. “Oh, hi Jake.”

“Good morning!” he said. “I apologize for being late this morning, my car-”

“The meeting,” you said, slapping yourself in the face. “I totally blanked on it.”

“That’s alright. Is now a good time?” he asked. You looked down at yourself and peeked back around the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah! It’s perfect, all perfect,” you said.

“You’re not...are you sure-” he said before Jensen was suddenly stepping into view and pushing you behind the door. “Good morning, Mr. Ackles. You uh, appear to be missing most of your clothes.”

“It seems I am,” said Jensen. “Ms. Y/L/N is very well. She would like to reschedule for ten am if that’s possible.”

“Uh…” he said before you rolled your eyes and opened the door all the way. You stared at him and he looked between you both. “Oh. Gotcha. You two…”

“Mhm,” hummed Jensen, crossing his arms.

“Jake would you mind setting up in my office? It’s just down the hall. Jensen and I were about to eat breakfast. We’ll only be fifteen or so minutes,” you said. He stepped inside and you pointed the way, Jensen pouting as you headed back into the kitchen. “Oh, I’m still gonna do things to you. Just tonight, pouty boy.”

“Alright. You told me David was going to be your manager I thought,” he said, going back to the fridge to get the eggs.

“Well I went with Jake. Is that a problem?

“No. I need to be made aware of decisions like that though. I’m going to have to work with him quite a bit for events, your work schedule, that stuff,” he said. 

“I thought you’d be happy. You said you liked him.”

“I do. I am happy. I’m just not happy that you didn’t tell me.”

“He’s been my manager for like a day, calm down,” you said. He put his hands on the counter and you saw him drop his head, his back to you. “Jensen, no evil person is out there looking to snatch me away the second you turn your head. It was one day.”

“In the future, please make me aware of staff changes when they happen?” he asked. He looked back at you, his face softer than you were expecting.

“Okay,” you said. While he whisked some eggs in a bowl, you walked over beside him, watching over his arm. “Looks good.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” he chuckled. You rested your head against his arm, Jensen adding in some spices to the mixture. You scooted up on the counter as he went to the stove, watching him scramble them on low, pouring in a dash of cream.

“Can I ask why the Jake thing bothered you?” you said quietly. He scrambled the eggs for a minute before sliding them onto a few plates.

“Because I have a bad feeling that there is someone out there that wants to hurt you and I have nothing to go off of besides a gut feeling and trusting that you’ll be honest with me, always. You didn’t do anything. I overreacted.”

He got out a pair of forks from the drawer, handing you one along with a plate.

“Your gut feelings are normally right?” you asked, taking a bite of the eggs.

“Normally. They were at the restaurant,” he said. You nodded, putting a hand on your arm where a barely there bruise was. “I’m sorry if I hurt you that night.”

“I get hurt worse walking into a wall cause I’m dumb. You had me on the ground before I even knew what was going on and stopped that guy from doing who knows what to everyone. I’m not sorry about that.” He was quiet but gave you a nod. “Your eggs are great. Permission to brag granted.”

“Thanks,” he said, the doorbell ringing again. “I better get dressed. We’re gonna talk about getting a gate at the end of the driveway too by the way.”

“I second that,” you said as you heard the front door open. “Oh my God, my mother, just walks wherever she wants.”

He took off upstairs, ducking down the hall just as she walked into the kitchen.

“Hi mom,” you said. “You are...three hours early.”

“I know, you have work things. I wanted to make you some food you can have for leftovers the next few days. You have hardly any food in your house,” she said.

“Ma, I can barely cook and most of the time, I don’t have the actual time,” you said. She rolled her eyes and you hopped off the counter.

“Well I’m here so might as well,” she said. You glanced up to the balcony and saw Jensen pop into view wearing some jeans and a long sleeve henley. His holster was clipped on under his shirt and you smiled as he came down. “Oh, good morning, Jensen.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N,” he said.

“Any particular reason my daughter is wearing your shirt and no pants?”

“Uh,” he said, opening his mouth when she made a face.

“Two plates of eggs? You think I was born yesterday?”

“No mam. Your observational skills are impressive,” he said. 

“Mom, could you lay off. We like, just started dating,” you said.

“Can you cook?” she asked him.

“A bit,” he said.

“Bodyguard, he can cook and he’s handsome. He’s fine by me,” she said. You put your head in your hands, your mom whacking your shoulder. “You’re so overdramatic. Now get out of my kitchen. We’ll get lunch and shop later. I assume Jensen is coming with us?”

“I would love to spend the day with you ladies but I trust you two will be okay on your own. I’d like to go over some things with Y/N’s new manager if Y/N’s okay with that,” said Jensen.

“You will join us for dinner though, won’t you? We’re going out with Chuck and the boys. Our treat,” she said.

“Mom,” you said, getting a look from her. “Jensen always goes out with me at night, that’s our rule. I’ll pay for his meal.”

“But we’re taking you kids-”

“He is my employee. You don’t-”

“He’s your boyfriend who happens to work for you. I’m paying for his dinner, alright?” she said. You held up your hands and padded out of the kitchen, Jensen following you upstairs. 

“I’m sorry about her,” you said back in your bedroom as you started to pick up last night’s clothes. “She’s-”

“She misses her daughter. She’s happy I’m here. It helps her sleep better at night,” he said. “Told me herself.”

“I love her. I love her to death but I was a kid when my dad died. I know it was hard for her but for six months, until she met Chuck, she acted like I didn’t exist. She likes to forget that sometimes.”

“People grieve differently,” he said. “Still, it wasn’t on you to do that.”

He took the dirty clothes from your hand and cupped your cheek, kissing your temple quickly. 

“Don’t know how anyone could not notice you. Good thing I get paid to stare at you all day,” he smirked. You lightly smacked his chest, Jensen giggling. “As much as it pains me to say it, get that tush dressed. We’ve got a very long meeting with your manager this morning.”

That Afternoon

“What about this one?” asked your mom, holding up a dress.

“You know I hate award shows,” you said.

“I mean for tonight. Or a date with Jensen sometime,” she said. You did your best to keep your face neutral but she caught the slight down turn of your lips. She slammed the dress back on the rack and put her hands on her hips. “What? All morning you have been short with me.”

“Mom I just started dating him like half an hour before you got to the house. You are going way too fast. I have dresses and I honestly wasn’t even going to say anything until it got more serious.”

“You pay him to protect your life. How much serious does it need to get?” she asked. You rolled your eyes and she made a face. “You barely pick up the phone and talk to me anymore.”

“Cause you changed after dad and not in a good way. For a little while, I lost both my parents. Even after Chuck, you two were so involved with each other you didn’t spend as much time as me as you did before dad died. When I was a teenager, when I really needed my mom, you weren’t there all the time. I’m sorry I grew up to be independent. But-”

“Do you think I don’t realize that? I know I made mistakes,” she said. She sighed and took a seat on a bench outside a waiting room. “I just want you to be happy and Jensen...I haven’t seen a smile on your face like that since before Brian died. He makes you happy, even when you two looked so annoyed with one another earlier in the week, he would stare and you would stare. I feel good about this one. I just want you to enjoy falling in love, if you do end up going that route with him.”

You sat down next to her and shrugged, crossing your arms. You leaned back against the wall and rubbed your sneaker against the floor.

“How do you know that’s your guy,” you asked quietly. “I mean, you’ve done it twice. How do you know?”

“It was different with Chuck. I was slower to admit to myself that I was in love with him. Your father was very quickly. I didn’t share that information with him until much later but I knew, a part of me, the part you don’t justify with logic or facts or details, that part always knew. It knew with them both. Nowhere does it say you only have to have one soulmate. I know you don’t want to hear that but I love them both equally, Y/N.”

“Mom, I love Chuck. It’s not the same as dad but I do. He makes you happy and he tries to be a dad to me but he gives me the space I need too. I’m happy you have him. I’m happy we both do.”

“Why do ask how you know the man you’re with is the one?” she asked. “Or are you asking because that part you can’t explain already told you something you’re not even willing to think yet.”

“I was curious was all,” you said as you stood.

“You’re a horrible actor,” she said. You pushed on her shoulder and she laughed. “Fine, fine. No more boy talk. Let’s try another store. I’m at the very least not letting you walk out of this mall without a new pair of heels.”

Later That Night

“Y/N?” asked Jensen outside your bedroom as he knocked on the door. You checked the back of your fancy bun one last time in the mirror before you walked out and into the room.

“One sec,” you said, bending down and putting on the five inch heels, zipping them up in the back. After a moment of looking yourself over in the mirror in a sleek, mostly backless black dress, you opened up the door. Jensen was in a tailored black suit with a deep navy tie. “You look-”

“Wow,” he said, looking you up and down. “You look so fancy.”

“Fancy?” you laughed. “Is this because you hardly ever catch me out of my sweats?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the sweats and the leggings. I love all of it,” he said. 

“You look very handsome,” you said, skirting past him and hearing a quiet whistle. “Knew you’d appreciate that.”

“Damn right I do,” he said as he caught up. “Ready to head out?”

“After you.”

“That’s great you guys found a house,” you said an hour later at the restaurant, mouth full of some cheese fries. Nick rolled his eyes at you and you licked your lips. “Wha? I’m hungry.”

“Actually it’s for mom and me,” said Chuck. You raised an eyebrow and he smiled. “I’m a writer so I can work from anywhere and your mom got offered a great position at a clinic here.”

“That’s great guys. I’d love to get to see you more,” you said. You looked at Michael and he had a curious smile on his face. “Did you get a house too?”

“Penthouse apartment hopefully. We’re looking at some tomorrow. Gonna be on my own for the first time. Nick and I talked and he’s not sure if he really wants to move out here yet. We decided we’d see what it’s like living apart for the first time,” he said. 

“Worst case I can always get a professor job at one of the colleges if I change my mind while I try to get into a school district,” said Nick while he played with the remnants of some crust on his plate. 

“You’ll come eventually,” said Chuck. “Get everyone living in the same timezone again. It’ll be good.”

“So are you two like a thing now?” asked Michael to you, looking as innocent as could be while he hid his shit eating grin.

“Yes,” you deadpanned. Jensen looked up from his salad but you went back to eating. For the most part the evening was what you were expecting. Your step-brothers acting oh so pleasant in front of your parents and Jensen getting a few questions about his job. You did smile though when Jensen was able to upstage Michael about some law usage. You were pretty sure even Michael was impressed with him at that point.

“That went well,” said Jensen an hour later after you’d parted ways with your family and were walking back to your car. “Michael’s growing on me. He seemed better tonight. Nick not so much.”

“I’m actually really proud of him for getting his own place. I get that they’re twins but they’re in their thirties. Neither one of them has had a girlfriend in years.”

“Michael’s like a workaholic though,” said Jensen, holding your hand when you walked past a guy in a jacket with his hood up.

“True. Maybe he’ll cut back some out here.”

“How do you think Nick will handle that?” he asked. You stopped walking and pulled out your phone. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t particularly like Nick most of the time, don’t get me wrong. But he might do something stupid,” you said as you dialed your brother. It rang a few times before he answered.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Hey Nick. You want to come over tomorrow while Michael apartment hunts?”

“Uh, sure,” he said and you knew he must have been around your parents still.

“Great. Come over around noon. We’ll have lunch and a swim or something.”

“Okay. See ya.”

You shook your head before you were walking again, Jensen bumping your shoulder.

“Something I need to know about?” he asked.

“The file you did on Nick, what’d you find.”

“Arrest record for when he was young. A few drunk and disorderlies, nothing Michael couldn’t ever get cleared up for him. Hospital stay for a few days in his twenties when he fell down some wet stairs. I’m going to go ahead and guess out of all of that he didn’t fall, did he.”

“No,” you said as you stopped outside your car.

“What happened?”

“I came home from school early and Nick had tried to kill himself,” you said. Jensen blinked a few times and you let out a dry laugh. “It’s hard to surprise you but I think that took the cake.”

“You need to tell me everything.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a threat to you. You can’t see it but I can. He doesn’t like you and if he’s tried that before, it means-”

“Can we talk about this at home?” you said when you saw someone down the street recognize you. He nodded and they wandered up, asking for a few pictures. You posed and put on a smile, Jensen watching careful with a hard look in his eye.

“Woah, woah,” said Jensen half an hour later as you sat in the family room at one end of the couch in some sweats and an oversized tee, Jensen sporting a similar look but wearing the hoodie you’d given him. He had a notebook by his side but he’d put it on the coffee table in favor of throwing his hands up. “He tried to do it in your bedroom? He left a note on your bed?”

“My closet,” you said. “My closet had attic access so he’d tied a rope up on a beam. He had just kicked the chair away when I walked in. I was skipping last period. Senior year and all.”

“What’d you do?”

“It was very obvious that Nick knew he’d made a mistake. I grabbed him and held him up as best I could until he could untie himself. He fell down pretty hard cause I couldn’t hold him anymore and landed on all the junk lying on my closet floor. He told me we were gonna lie and say he fell down some stairs to account for all the bruises.”

“Why’d you help him lie?”

“Cause I thought he tried to kill himself because of me. I thought he hated me that much. He was in my bedroom after all,” you said.

“You read the note?”

“Jensen-”

“I need to know, Y/N.”

“Why?”

“Because my job is to protect you from threats. If your step-brother doesn’t like you and now his whole family is moving away from him to be closer to you, depending on a lot of things, this could get messy.”

“Jensen-”

“Did you read it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And?” For a moment you looked past him and outside, Jensen’s foot nudging yours. “I’m sorry but I gotta know.”

“He felt like a failure. He was in the car with his mom when she died. He saw how well Michael did and I did and he felt distant from his dad and he felt like his life was crumbling around him and honestly, he wanted to go be with his mom again. He felt like he didn’t belong. I fucking bawled reading it.”

“You guys ever talk about it or was it over like that?”

“I slapped him in the face and told him he was pathetic. His mom, my dad, they didn’t get a choice to live or die. I was so angry at him. He apologized and he promised me that if he ever felt like that again, he’d tell me. A few years later, he came to me and thought he might do something stupid.”

“His teaching sabbatical he went on.”

“He got some professional help. I paid for it all. He stayed out here, nearby. I visited him everyday on the way into work. He got better. He learned a lot about himself, how to cope, how to deal with things in his life. He still sees a therapist every week I pay for on the down low.”

“He’s no threat to you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he loves you and you love him, even if you don’t like one another or act like you care. If something bad were to happen, he would help you and you’re gonna do it right back.”

“How do-”

“Because your step-brothers who are assholes to you at times, they wanted to ensure that I would protect you when I first met them. I think it’s finally all clicking into place,” he said. “Hence why you never say a word about their behavior to your mom.”

“I will take prickly siblings over dead ones, even if I didn’t pick them,” you said.

“Are you worried Nick will take a bad turn with everyone else moving here?”

“I don’t know. I know he associates this place with bad memories, some of his darkest memories. I don’t blame him for not wanting to live here,” you said. Jensen nodded and ran his thumb over his lips. He propped his elbow on the back of the couch, resting his head in it.

“I’ve always thought you were kind. But helping your brother like that, in secret when I’m sure you want to tell your family, that’s not easy.”

“Yes, it is. There was never really a decision to be made though. The only one was to tell my parents and Michael and as long as Nick is honest with me, I will keep his secrets from them.”

“You’re more loyal than some of the people I served with,” he said, looking out the back windows. “It’s only an easy decision if you’re a good person. I wish I’d worked with more of those.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. He smiled and ruffled his hair, frowning after a moment.

“Jared saved my life you know. After I healed up, I transferred to his unit.”

“He’s a good guy to call your friend,” you said. He hummed and you crawled over to him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad we’re finally friends.”

“Me too,” he said. He pulled you into his lap and rested his head on your shoulder. Your fingers ran through his hair, eyes drawn down to how his back flexed and relaxed. “Sorry for playing twenty questions with Nick. I won’t say a word to anyone, including him.”

“S’okay. Just doing your job.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine. Why?”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“Counter offer. We make out in my hot tub and then go to bed.”

“Counter counter offer. I make ice cream sundaes we eat in said hot tub and then make out and then go to bed.”

“I’ve always had a thing for intelligent men,” you said. You kissed his cheek and he chuckled. “You’ve never seen me in a bikini before, have you.”

“I’m in for a treat then, aren’t I?” he said. “Go on and change.”

“I’ll meet you out there,” you said. You departed from him and headed upstairs, poking around in your closet for the perfect one to put on. You spotted him come out of the hall in his orange and blue striped shorts, a whistle on his lips as he jogged downstairs. In your closet you took a seat on the small bench, holding up your black teeny tiny bikini and your aqua blue that honestly made your butt look great.

You opted for the black top and blue bottoms to get the best of both worlds. You were midway through pulling your shirt off when you heard Jensen come in the room.

“Oh come on-” you said, something whacking you in the back of the head. Instantly you fell down, strong arms catching you. You looked up wearily, someone in a black mask looking down at you. The eyes weren’t green and you kneed him, putting an elbow to the back of the guy’s neck and making him groan. You got to your feet as fast as possible and sprinted out of the room. “Jensen!”

You knew you weren’t going to make it to the stairs without the guy catching you so you grabbed the railing and vaulted over the balcony to the ground below. You rolled when you hit the ground, spotting Jensen by the base of the stairs. Your eyes spun upwards, Jensen following your gaze and seeing the man standing there. You turned and saw Jensen running towards you, a loud thud right beside you. The man was on the first floor now and you ducked down, missing his arms as you dove into the dining room. By the time you had your head up, you saw Jensen tackling the guy, a gun going flying out of the intruder’s hands.

You stood up, watching the two of them wrestle, the intruder getting a good hit on Jensen’s face. 

“Y/N, go!” you heard Jensen yelling at you, the pounding in your ears finally growing a little quieter. Jensen told you when you were going over his book of rules that was the adrenaline in your system, trying to get your body to only focus on survival. The gun was laying fairly close to you and you heard Jensen shout, eyes darting over to see he had a cut on the back of his shoulder. 

He had Jensen pinned face down and was working on restraining him. He was still shouting at you and the man looked up the second he had pulled the tie taut. You ran over and picked up the gun, the man revealing a knife.

“Put that down or I kill him,” he said. You swallowed, Jensen yelling a frenzy of things at you, all of which involved you running away as fast as possible. Instead you aimed the gun and fired, the man falling backwards as it hit his vest. 

You ran over and kicked the knife he dropped away, keeping the gun on him as Jensen rolled over to it and cut himself free. He gave you a dirty look but searched the guys pockets and found more restraints, slipping some on the intruder before taking the gun out of your hands.

“Call the police. Now,” said Jensen. 

________

A/N: Read Part 7 here!

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

The Angel Nextdoor

Pairing: Artist!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: This is the first Tom fic I’ve ever posted and I’m a little nervous, but I’m really proud of it. I hope you guys really like it, I’d love to hear your feedback. Now, this is my Valentine’s day special, and I know what you’re thinking, “Ashley, how can you post a Valentine’s say special on February 15th? It doesn’t make any sense.”. But to that I say, you’ve just never seen this kind of innovation, I’m an artist and I have to take risks like this sometimes. I hope you can understand, love you all xx

Summary: Tom’s latest assignment might just give him the push he needs to finally confess his feelings. 

Masterlist

Promt list

//

“This is the handout for your final, we’re going to talk about it more next class, but for now just look this over and start brainstorming,” Ms. Miller passed a stack of papers down the row with a smile, “You’ll have a full month to work on it so I expect really polished pieces for this.”

Tom glanced over the requirements before settling at the prompt.

‘Paint someone close to you (friend, family member, significant other, ect…) in the style of their favorite artist or painting.’

It seemed simple enough, and he could think of a handful of people to ask. Definitely not family, he didn’t want to travel home and back that frequently. He could ask Harrison, and he was sure he would say yes, but there was one person who really stuck out in his mind. It was (y/n) of course, who better to paint than the most beautiful person in the world? And could anyone really expect an artist like him not to want to paint the object of her affection? Of course actually doing it was a different story. Asking her to let him paint her was a daunting task, one Tom was sure he couldn’t complete. So he was going to paint Harrison.

“Try to come to class with a narrowed down list of who you may end up painting, you’ll need to know for sure by Friday,” Ms. Miller sighed as the class began packing up, “I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”

Tom shoved everything in his bag and went straight for the dinning hall, where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) for lunch. He debated again trying to ask her, but quickly shoved the thought from his mind. She had inspired his work before certainly, it was inevitable that she’d inspire him, or her image would wander to his mind when he was working, but he had never painted her. Of course he wanted to paint her directly, but it was intimate, it always felt wrong to do without her permission. Just asking to paint her surely would have revealed his feelings too, something he wanted to do on his own terms, when he was ready, with concrete proof that she liked him back and he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

“That’s not a happy face,” Harrison hummed as Tom sat down in front of him, “Bad grade or something?”

“No, we just got our final already,” he sighed, letting his bag fall besides him.

“Already?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she wants it to be really polished.”

“Does it seem really hard?”

“It’s nothing I can’t do, I’m gonna need your help though.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve seen me paint before right?”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Obviously not with that. I’m just supposed to paint someone close to me and I don’t want to drive home every other day so I was gonna ask if I could paint you.”

Harrison knit his brow in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you ask (y/n)?”

Tom flushed, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You two would get to spend a lot of time together, alone. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, and I’d like to paint her, but it’s so intimate. I want to be the one to tell her I like her, not a painting. Plus she could say no and then I’d never be able to show my face in public again.”

“There is no way she would say no,” Harrison rolled her eyes, “Just ask her, she’d be happy to help and you might just finally see that she’s into you. Then I can stop watching you two pine over one another.”

“No, just drop it,” Tom ordered, spotting (y/n) approaching their table, “Don’t say anything to her.”

“Hey boys,” she smiled as she sat besides Tom, “How were classes?”

“Mine were fine, Tom’s already getting his finals though.”

Tom shot him a glare while she sighed, “That’s brutal, I’m sorry Tom.”

“I’ll survive,” he hummed, “It’s not anything too rough.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously.

“Just painting someone I know,” his cheeks dusted pink, “Nothing too hard.”

“Too bad I can’t help you out with it more,” Harrison bit his cheek, “Maybe (y/n) could pose for you.”

Tom decided he’d have to push Harrison out their dorm window when they got home. 

“Oh yeah, I don’t mind,” she smiled kindly to him.

“It’s okay, it’s probably going to take me awhile and I know you’re busy, I can just ask one of my brothers,” he insisted.

“And drive home every other day? That’s ridiculous, I’ll just do it.”

Tom sucked in a deep breath, trying to decide quickly what the right decision to make was. But he was a painter, he couldn’t give up the chance to paint something so perfect in good conscience, and he didn’t really want to say no either.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he smiled to her.

“No problem. So what do I need to do?”

“I’m supposed to paint you in the style of your favorite artist, or painting.”

“Well…” she tapped her lip thoughtfully, “Oh, they guy that painted those little cupids, and he did that Birth of Venus you showed me with all the cupids in it, I really liked his stuff. What was his name again?”

“William-Adolphe Bouguereau,” Tom pursed his lips, “I could do that, it’s not too far off from what I like to do anyway.”

“Cool, I guess I should start practicing my poses then?”

He chuckled, “No, we’ll just do something comfortable for you,” he bit the inside of his cheek, “There’s a bit of planning to do first, like what you’re gonna wear and the colors I’m gonna use, and sketching, I’ll just need a few days.”

“Well why don’t you come over and we can raid my closet? Maybe I can help with some of the other stuff too.”

Harrison was smiling like a proud dad when Tom glanced over at him, “Um, yeah, that would be good, I could come over after class Wednesday?”

“It’s a date.”

/

“I laid out some clothes already,” (y/n) smiled to Tom as she led him to her room, “I mean you’ll know better than me, but I tried to pick some things I thought would paint well.”

“Thanks, I was thinking something really simple would be best,” he began examining the clothes on her bed, smiling when he spotted the same white, babydoll dress she liked to wear whenever it got hot, “How about this one? It has that sort of angelic feel.”

She picked up the dress and held it against her, “It’s the comfiest too.”

He laughed, “Well that one for sure then. Next would be location, and I know you really like L'Amour et Psyché, enfants, so I thought it would be nice to have you sitting on a cloud to reference that.”

“Whatever you think is best Tom, you’re the artist,” she hummed, “I think that sounds nice though.”

“I think we’ll do that then. Do you want to toss the dress on so we can run through some poses?”

She nodded and Tom stepped outside, allowing her a moment to change. He’d thought about the painting all night, sketching out different poses and swatching colors he wanted to try. The anger he’d felt towards Harrison at lunch had faded almost instantly to excitement. He’d hung out with her a million times before, but he usually let his nerves get the best of him if things started getting flirty. Painting always relaxed him though, and he was sure that he would be able to make his feelings known once he was behind the canvas.

Of course, unbeknownst to Tom, her feelings were quite similar. Tom was handsome, of course, and funny and kind, and she got along with him better than anyone else. She had never felt the way she felt for him with anyone else, but flirting was hard. She always got nervous and backed off, there was just too much at risk. She didn’t know if Tom felt the same way, and she didn’t want to risk damaging their relationship by telling him she was into him. Of course she was happy just to help Tom for the class, but she thought it was a good chance to tread the waters.

“Ready,” (y/n) smiled as she left her room, “Where do you want me boss?”

“The couch is fine,” he was holding his sketchbook now, holding it firm against his chest, “If you could sit kind of sideways and put your arms on the back of the couch.”

She sat as he told her, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Like this?”

“That’s really nice, very reminiscent of the original…” he glanced down at his sketchbook, “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s a little awkward,” she admitted.

“Then it’s a no. How about with your hands in front of you, just resting.”

“This is better,” she smiled as she switched positions, “But if you want me the other way I don’t mind.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he assured before glancing back at the sketchbook, “Why don’t you try on your stomach, with your arms under your head.”

She giggled as she moved, kicking her legs like a child, “This is like the fifth grade slumber party position. I feel like we’re gonna play truth or dare.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re never going to break into the modeling industry if you mess around like that.”

“You’re lucky I’m not a model or I’d be charging,” she stuck her tongue out before laying her head on her hands, “Is this right?”

“Almost, just cross your arms like this,” he set her arms in the position he wanted before stepping away again, “Are you comfy like that?”

“Yeah, I could sleep like this.”

“Good, there’s just one other pose I wanted to try. Could you roll over?”

She flipped to her back and set her hands over her stomach, “Do I look like an angel now?”

“Almost,” he moved one of his arms, extending it above her head and leaving the other over her stomach, “Perfect,” he declared, looking her over with a smile, “Very angelic.”

Her cheeks dusted pink and she bit down on her cheek, “Thanks.”

“I think this is the one,” he scribbled a few things in his sketchbook, “What do you think?”

"I could lay here all day."

“Perfect, can you stay there for a few so I can sketch you?”

She nodded, drumming her fingers along her stomach, "Did you get a better explanation of the project today?"

"Yeah, she said our grade is going to be focused on the emotion of the piece since we're painting someone close to us. She wants us to focus on portraying them how we see them."

"How are you gonna portray me then?" she blushed as she questioned him.

"An angel," he spoke without thinking, his cheeks flushing instantly, "Not with wings or anything, just sort of what I'm going for."

She was sure her face was about to catch on fire, "You don't have to do that, I mean I like the angel paintings, but you should portray me how you see me."

"I am, it just happened to fit with what you like," he tried his best to conceal his face behind his sketchbook as he spoke, "You're really sweet, and you always make everyone around you really happy, I think an angel is fitting."

“I think you’re like that,” she met his eyes, just barely peeking over the edge of his sketchbook, “You always make me happy.”

“I’m really glad I do,” he bit the inside of his cheek nervously, “I think I’ve got everything I need for today, I’ll do some thumbnailing tonight and go pick up some supplies.”

“Cool,” she sat back up, twirling some of her hair nervously, “So when do you want to start?”

“You have that essay right? Why don’t we do Saturday? I don’t want to take up a bunch of your time.”

“That’s sweet but I’m gonna procrastinate no matter what,” she giggled, “Saturday is good though, then we’d have all day to work.”

“I’ll be over at ten then,” he closed his sketchbook before shoving is back into his bag, “If you really want to procrastinate you could come to the store with me. I mean I have to make sure I can match your skin and hair and everything…”

“Well sure, but if you want even more of my very valuable time I at least expect you to buy me some tea.”

He laughed, “Fine, fine, we’ll stop for tea.”

/

Day 1

Tom was surprised by how awake (y/n) was when he arrived, she was never much of a morning person. When he showed up she had brewed some tea for them both and was already wearing the white dress they’d agreed upon. Tom had drawn about a thousand thumbnails before finally deciding on exactly what he wanted the painting to look like. He decided he’d start on it Friday night, figuring it would be good to get most of the background out of the way so he could focus on painting her while they were together. She gushed over how good the painting already looked, telling him they were the most perfect clouds she’d ever seen while he set up his work station. She was always hyping him up, he appreciated it, even though he was nervous to get started.

“You ready?” he asked finally.

She nodded, “Yeah,” she sat down, doing her best to mimic the pose she had earlier in the week, “Am I good?”

Tom nodded, “Perfect.”

“Awesome, I won’t move a muscle.”

He chuckled, “You can move. Just not too much,” he sighed, picking up his palette and taking one more moment to stare at his canvas, “Okay, time to start.”

(y/n) watched him quietly at first, watching the cute way he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated. She had never seen him paint, the occasional sketch sure, but with painting she’d only even seen finished pieces. They were always amazing, but she felt like getting to see the work in progress was something special. Most people never got to meet someone as passionate or as talented as Tom, let alone get to be the subject of their work.

“Do you mind if I draw the curtains?” Tom broke her trance.

“It’s your painting.”

He laughed, “No, I mean open them. Why on earth would I add a window to a painting of you in the sky?”

“I don’t know how your artist brain works, maybe you think clouds have windows,” she laughed in response, “Go ahead, I thought you wouldn’t want the lighting changing all day.”

“Well I’m going to paint the light source where I want it to be,” he explained as he stood, “But I want to make sure I’m painting you how you’d look in more natural light. Maybe angels have windows, but I’m nearly certain they don’t have iridescent light bulbs.”

“You seriously think heaven has fluorescent lighting?”

“I think they use the sun,” he deadpanned, though a smirk tempted the corners of his mouth, “You can turn on the tv or something.”

“That’s okay, I like watching you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “Why? I’m just staring at a canvas.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s something you're passionate about, it’s cute watching you get in the zone.”

“Oh,” he blushed and turned his attention back to his work, “Thanks. I’ll be more talkative once I get a little further along, I just really like to concentrate in the beginning.”

“It’s fine,” she assured again, “I’m not bored Tom, I don’t mind a bit of quiet time.”

“Okay.” 

Truthfully he didn’t mind it either, at least when he was with her. He just liked being in the same room together, even if they were just studying or watching a movie, it was nice to just be together. 

/

Day 2

“Would you mind if I came over after class tomorrow?” Tom questioned, breaking (y/n)’s attention from the tv.

“That’s fine by me,” she smiled to him, “It’s not like I usually have plans with anyone else on a Monday afternoon.”

“Yeah, no one else can stand you,” he chuckled while she feigned offense.

“You know I could be charging you for this? I’m doing this for free out of the goodness of my heart.”

“You think I have money? I’m a starving artist darling, free is all I can afford.”

“You better be nice then,” she teased with a smile.

“I’m cooking you lunch aren’t I?” he sighed before setting his paints down, “Speaking of which, I think I’m ready for a lunch break.”

“Me too,” she rubbed her stomach, “Break time?”

He nodded, “Yeah, you still want pasta?”

“You know I do,” she winked as she stood up, stretching her arms up above her head, “Can I peak?”

He nodded, “It still doesn’t look like much, but I’m making good progress.”

She bounced over to the painting, smiling ear to ear as she took in all he had done, “It looks more and more amazing every time I see it. This is amazing Tom, seriously it looks so good already.”

He smiled, blushing at the praise, “Thanks, I think it’s coming along really well.”

/

Day 3

Tom was making much quicker progress than he had expected, he just found it very easy to find his rhythm every time they sat down to work. Part of it was her, part of it was the subject matter, also her. He was pretty sure all the hours he’d previously spent staring at her had something to do with it too. So far he was proud of his work, though he was sure it wouldn’t have been possible for a painting of her to look bad anyway. When he sat down to paint her he didn’t have to think about it much, just paint, it came very natural. It just felt naturally to immortalize someone like her, but the talking helped the most. Normally he painted alone and he’d wear himself out or hit some kind of wall and be forced to stop, but he hadn’t had that problem since working with her. It was like his hands moved on their own while he just hung out with his best friend. It was just easy...

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you stay so clean when you paint?”

“I figured it out around the same time I stopped fingerpainting.”

She laughed, “Okay well when I try to paint I still get at least some paint on my hands and arms and stuff, you never get paint anywhere.”

“This is the third time you’ve seen me paint, I’ve gotten messy plenty of times but I’m trying really hard not to get paint all over your house.”

“Have you ever painted a girl?” she giggled, “Her body I mean, like gotten naked and painted on each other?”

He flushed suddenly, “No, have you?”

“No, but it would be fun wouldn’t it?”

“It would be cold,” he pursed his lips, he was well hidden by the canvas, so he had a lot more confidence in his ability to be cheeky, “We can take a break if you want to try it out.”

She went quiet for a moment, Tom thought he might have to throw himself out of her window but when he looked at her her cheeks were just as red, and she decided to press on, “What would you paint?”

“Depends where I’m painting.”

She bit her bottom lip, a playful smile overtaking her despite her pink cheeks, “Well I would paint a grid and play tic tac toe on your abs.”

She burst into laughter at her own awful joke and Tom did his best to fight off his own laughter, “That was not funny.”

“Yes it was that’s hilarious!” she kept laughing, clenching her stomach and rolling onto her side, only to find there was no room and roll onto the floor with a thud, “Ow.”

Tom started laughing, “You deserve that for making such a shit joke.”

“Fuck off,” she groaned.

/

Day 4

“Do you ever get lonely living here all alone?” Tom knit his brow as he tried to perfect her nose.

She nodded, “Sometimes, but I don’t really want a roommate you know? I need a boyfriend or something so I can just call him over when I decide I want someone to spend the night.”

“You could call me,” Tom didn’t dare peek out from behind the canvas after that comment, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted me to spend the night sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we could even build a pillow fort and play truth or dare.”

She laughed lightly, “Well who could pass up an offer like that?”

/

Day 5

Rather than painting the whole night, Tom and (y/n) had decided to get some studying done, putting them at a much later start when they eventually did get to the painting. (y/n) seemed tired, and Tom had told her they could skip the night, especially since he was making such good progress already, but she had insisted she was fine. So they started working, and (y/n) watched tv, half away while Tom started working. The painting was coming along amazing, and Tom had planned to just get some of the more tedious, detailing work done and let her get to bed, but of course once he actually started working it was a different story. He had quickly gotten wrapped up in his work, not stopping until the noise of the tv stopped, the screen flashing to ask if anyone was still watching. 

“Sorry, I was just getting in the zone I-” Tom stopped mid sentence, spotting her already passed out on the couch. Her head was tossed to the side and one of her arms hung off the couch. The sight was endearing, but Tom felt bad about not noticing, “Oh dear,” he set his pallet down and stood up, flicking the tv off before approaching her, “Well come on darling, let’s get you to bed,” he nudged her lightly, “(y/n), time to wake up.”

She stirred slightly, a small groan leaving her lips before her eyes peaked open, “Tommy?”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips, “I would have carried you, but you’ve got to lock up behind me.”

She yawned, “Sorry, I’ll stay awake Tom, you can keep working.”

“You’re exhausted sweetheart, you need to get some sleep,” he smiled, setting a hand on her cheek carefully, “I got a lot done today anyway, promise.”

“Okay,” she yawned again before taking his hand, “I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’ll take care of it, why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

She nodded again, pushing herself up sleepily and padding off to her bedroom. Tom smiled to himself while he cleaned up, thinking about how nice it would have been to carry her off and tuck her in, or better yet fall asleep besides her. He could only hope he’d get there one day, if he could ever force out his feelings. It was seeming more and more possible everyday. Just as he’d suspected, hiding behind the canvas had made it much easier to flip the conversation to something flirty, and much to his delight, she didn’t seem to mind, if anything she flirted back.

“Looks good,” (y/n) hummed as she glanced over the painting, “Tomorrow we should be able to start early.”

“Thank you, honestly at this rate I’ll only need a few more days.”

“That’s awesome Tommy, I can’t wait to see it all done.”

“Me too,” he tossed an arm over her shoulder with a smile, “Come see me out.”

“I am, I am,” she smiled as he led her to the door, “Drive safe.”

“I will, get some sleep darling,” he kissed the top of her head before heading for the car.

/

Day 6

The doorbell made Tom jump, and nearly swipe a black line through one of her eyes, “Fucking hell,” he swore under his breath,

She giggles, “It’s just the pizza Tom,” she jumped off the couch, heading straight for the door, “Which means stop working busy bee we’ve got a pizza to devour!”

He pushed himself up with a sigh, “I’m in the homestretch here, I just need to push through.”

“No, you need to nourish your body and keep your mind sharp,” she winked to him as she opened the door accepting the pizza with a quick thank you.

“Smells delicious,” he plucked the box from her arms, “I think I’ll pretty much finish up tonight, but I’ll want to really polish it tomorrow when I’ve got fresh eyes. And I probably won’t want to stop once I’ve got started so eat and pee before I get here.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute or you wouldn’t get away with bossing people around like that,” she passed him a plate before tossing open the box.

“I know,” he winked to her, dishing them both a slice, “You know I probably only need another hour or so tonight, so we could watch a movie or something while we eat, then I could finish up after.”

A swarm of butterflies fluttered around her stomach, almost making it impossible for her to answer, “That sounds nice Tom, you definitely deserve to relax.”

“We both do,” he grabbed her remote as he fell down on the couch.

“I’ve been laying on the couch, relaxing is currently all I know.”

“Nah, I’m sure it gets tiring sitting there looking pretty all day,” he sucked in a sharp breath when she sat down, pressed right against his side.

“It does,” she nodded in agreement, “Alright, you pick for us alright?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t pay much attention to what he was picking, he was much more concerned with their proximity. They’d watched plenty of movies and tv shows together during their friendship, but they never sat so close. It gave Tom a lot of confidence, since she’d opted to sit besides him, he took it as a sign that his flirting was landing. So after they finished eating he decided he should also initiate something and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Without even thinking she had laid her head on his shoulder, it just felt natural. Tom pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head and turned his attention to the tv.

/

Day 7

Tom stood up, stepping back a few feet to examine his work. He did it fairly frequently so (y/n) didn’t think anything of it and turned right back to the tv, until Tom spoke.

“It’s perfect, I’m done,” he declared with a small smile.

(y/n) raised a brow, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have to seal it and everything, but the actual painting is done. I’ll turn it in on Monday.”

“Don’t you have a few more weeks?” she asked as she stood.

He nodded, “I don’t need them, I’m finished, it’s gorgeous, I don’t need to do anything else.”

“Well can I see?”

“Of course!” he grabbed her shoulders, quickly pulling her to face the work, “What do you think?”

She went wide eyed, taken back by how good he’d made her look. It was strange, seeing herself in a painting. It was done well of course, and it looked just like her, but better somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, maybe the background or the romantic theme of the painting, but she just looked better. She looked like an angel, perched on a bed of pink and blue swirling clouds, reminiscent of the paintings she likes, but distinctly Tom’s work.

“Wow,” she turned to him with a big smile, “Tom it’s incredible, I don’t know how you made me look like that.”

“That’s just what you look like.”

She shook her head, “It’s better somehow, like the perfect version of me or something. You did incredible.”

“No,” he shook his head, “That’s just you, but thank you. I’m really proud of this, I think it’s one of my best.”

She blushed, “Yeah, you’re gonna get a killer grade.”

He hadn’t thought much about the grave, the assignment had taken a back seat to just painting her, “Yeah, I hope so,” he grabbed her upper arms and smiled down at her, “You’re incredible you know that? Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

She bit her lip and nodded, “You don’t have to thank me, I had fun.”

“Me too,” his eyes caught her lips for just a moment, soft and supple and more than kissable, “I, uh, we should do something to celebrate, dinner or something.”

“That would be fun too,” she tucked some hair behind her ear, leaning towards him just slightly.

He found himself leaning in too, but as much as he wanted to kiss her, something just wouldn’t let him. He kissed her forehead and backed away awkwardly, “I, uh, need to pack everything up, I have to get the sealant on pretty quick and I left it at home so…” 

The sealant was in his bag, but he felt like running away suddenly, his nerves truly getting the best of him.

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment but she nodded, ‘Y-Yeah, no problem, I’ll help you pack up.”

/

“Wait so let me get this straight, all this flirting and pining, you chickened out on the kiss?” Harrison’s jaw fell open in disbelief. 

Tom nodded, hiding his head against his arms, “Yes, and I nearly died the first time so let's not talk about it now.”

“Dude,” he gaped, “Are you kidding me? All you had to do was pucker up!”

“I know!” Tom groaned, “I know, I don’t even know what happened, I just froze up. I mean what if I misread it? She probably didn’t want me to kiss her, in fact I know she didn’t.”

“You said she leaned in first!”

“I thought she did but I’m stupid! There’s no way she was trying to kiss me.” “It literally could not be more obvious that you two like each other so I don’t want to hear it. You need to just call her up and tell her you froze up and ask her out.”

“I can’t, I will literally drop dead.”

Harrison rolled his eyes, “Then I’ll do it.”

“Dude no! I’m not ten, I can’t send you to ask a girl out for me, that’s a guaranteed no at this point.”

“Then just tell her,” Harrison groaned, “Before I lose it, please.”

/

Tom was coming to terms with the fact that he was going to die alone by Wednesday morning. It was hard to accept, but easier to accept than almost kissing his dream girl and chickening out, so the choice had been easy. But apparently the universe had other plans for him, as Ms. Miller decided to pull him aside after class.

“I want to talk about your final,” she placed his painting on an easel.

He blushed, “You don’t like it?”

She shook her head, “No, no, Tom this is incredible. I was going to suggest that you enter it into the National Galleries up and coming contest.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded, “Yeah, this is amazing, it would be a shame if the world didn’t see it,” she chuckled lightly, “And I’m sure it would get you some brownie points with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he spoke softly, pretending to cough to try and hide his words, “Just my friend.”

“You painted just a friend like this?”

He nodded.

“And remind me of the title.”

“The Angel Nextdoor.”

“Do you call all your friends angel?”

“Uh no, just her,” he bit his lip while she raised a brow at him, “She doesn’t know I’m into her.”

Ms. Miller glanced at the painting with a hum, “Has she seen the painting?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she was there the whole time.”

“I think she knows.”

He began to blush again, “Really?”

She nodded, “I could tell just from looking at it that you must really love this girl, I’m sure she can tell too,” she smiled and leaned back on her desk, “Anyways, I just wanted to let you know about the competition, I’ll have your marks soon.”

He nodded, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, think about it.”

He scrambled out of class quickly, wondering if maybe he didn’t have to die alone. Maybe he could confess, and maybe (y/n) who had gushed to him about the painting he’d poured all his love into, would reciprocate. Maybe she had leaned in to try and kiss him, and maybe, just maybe, she really did like him back. Instead of stopping at the dining hall where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) he paced right past it, towards (y/n)’s class, trying to hype himself up the whole way. 

(y/n) had spent the past few days with her mind full of questions. She had leaned in, hoping Tom would get the hint and they would kiss. It seemed to be going that way but then he stopped. Tom had seemed flirty while he was painting her, and she tried her best to show her own interest. He had even held her while they watched a movie, but then he didn’t kiss her. He just kissed her on the forehead and left. She was worried she had misread everything, and almost certain she had. She was anxious about seeing him for the first time since the almost kiss, worried things would be tense or weird. So she was quite worried when she spotted him outside of her class, worried he was about to tell her to never bring up the incident and forget anything happened.

“Hey,” she smiled to him, “What are you doing here?” “I came to talk to you,” he blushed a bit, “Uh, Ms. Miller really likes my painting, she thought I should enter it in this competition for up and comers.”

“Really? Tom that’s awesome, congrats!”

He nodded, “Yeah, thanks, I thought it was really cool too, but she said she thought it was good because she could really see my emotions.”

“Also awesome, you’re gonna ace that class.”

“Okay, but, um…” he trailed off for a minute, unsure of how to force the words out, “The emotion was love, that she saw I mean. She said she could tell I really loved you, a-and I know you know that I do love you, but I love you way more than any of my other friends, and it’s different too… I mean I know I’m like a struggling artist, and that’s not the most desirable thing, and I’m not this perfect, beautiful person like you are, but I do love you, and I love you so much it’s overwhelming sometimes. The best thing I’ve ever painted is you because I love you so much, romantically.”

She stood totally frozen, with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open, making Tom’s heart pound nervously against his chest. He thought he might black out but she moved suddenly, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him hard. Her lips were plump and soft and so much better than he could have imagined. He grabbed her waist, leaning into her with a smile.

“I love you too,” she smiled as she pulled away, “I think you’re perfect and I am totally crazy about you.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded excitedly, “Of course! How could I not? You’re incredibly talented and you're funny and your kind, Tom you’re amazing, of course I am so totally in love with you.”

He smiled and sealed their lips again, “Maybe we could go on a date sometime then?”

She nodded again, “Of course, but I’ve got one condition.”

“Anything.”

“There has to be more kissing.”

He laughed before pecking her lips again, “I think I can handle that.”

[generallynerdy]

Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

Read On AO3

*

“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

*

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

*

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

*

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

*

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

*

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

*

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din. 

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

*

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right. 

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[dragon-kazansky]

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

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Part 8

You have been back in New York a couple of weeks now. You had spent a few days recovering, at the word of Tony Stark, your boss, and then took on a few small jobs. They were jobs that didn't require you for more than few hours.

Standing outside nightclubs, escorting an official to a meeting, being present at an event. Nothing major like protecting a Baron from a group of individuals who wanted him dead.

If you were being quite honest, you were missing that assignment. You were missing him.

These little jobs were starting to feel dull. A part of you wondered if it was because you were worried. How were you suppose to carry on when you knew there were dangerous people out there?

Somehow, you just did.

Then one day things changed. You turned up at the headquarters at Stark's request. Everyone else was still stationed in Sokovia for the time being. You were beginning to miss them.

You check your suit out before entering the office, wanting to look your best for your boss. It always made you feel good to look good when working.

You knock on the door.

"Come in."

You enter the office and close the door behind you. Tony Stark is sitting at his desk. He had just got off the phone as you entered.

"Take a seat."

You sit down.

Tony places a folder in front of you on his desk. He sits back in his chair, links his fingers together, and looks at you.

You look at the folder, then at him.

"Open it."

You pull the folder open slowly and look down at the page in front of you. Now you were just confused. In front of you was a photo of Baron Helmut Zemo. The page looked pretty much the same as fine report you got last time.

You look up at Stark.

"What is this?"

"A job."

"You want me back on the assignment?" You ask, looking at him.

Tony shakes his head slowly.

"Read it."

You look down at the report and read it. The more you read, the more confused you became. The details were vague.

I, Helmut Zemo, request the presence of Y/N L/N at Castle Zemo, Novi Grad, Sokovia, immediately. Please note, they may refuse the invite and remain situated in New York.

He was asking for you.

You look back at Tony Stark. His expression doesn't give anything away as he remains seated in the same position looking at you.

"He is asking for me?"

"Yes."

"He wants me back on the assignment?"

"Maybe. I don't know. All I received was that file and strict instructions to show it to you."

You look back at the file.

"You can refuse."

You look at the Baron's name on the top of the page.

Helmut Zemo.

Was he giving you a second chance because he felt bad? The thought made your heart flutter.

You look up at Stark.

"I'll do it. I'll go."

Tony's expression doesn't change. You can't tell if he's happy about it or not. He just shrugs.

"Alright. I'll organise the flight."

He dismisses you right after that. You take the file and return to your room. So many thoughts are running through your head. Your should still ached, but you were confident you could go back and do the hob again.

You would happily take another bullet for him.

The very next day you were on the plane to Sokovia. Tony Stark saw you off himself and you sent a message ahead to your friends.

You: I'm coming back. The Baron has requested me.

You couldn't wait. You wanted to see them all, assure them you were fine, and most of all, find out why the Baron had sent out an invite like that.

You wanted to see him again.

The photo doesn't do him any justice. To understand just how fine of a man he is, you need to see him with your own eyes. It was incredibly unprofessional of you to be having such thoughts, but you couldn't help it.

The Baron is a very handsome man.

It was late in the day when you arrived. You had sent a message ahead to tell your friends what time you would be landing. Steve had replied to assure you the Baron was sending a car to pick you up.

Apparently, he had wanted to come get you himself, the Baron that is, but was too busy rearranging the meetings he was suppose to attend over the past couple of weeks.

Knowing that information made something within you stir.

The plane lands, you get your suitcase, and you head outside to find a sleek black car waiting for you. Bucky climbs out of the car with Steve and you hug them both, happy to be back.

Bucky takes your suitcase and Steve opens the door for you. You find it funny the way they are treating you.

"I'm not the Baron, you know."

"We know," Steve replies.

He doesn't say any more on the matter and gets back into the drivers seat. Bucky sits in the passenger seat and smiles at you over his shoulder. You get comfortable in the back.

"We are glad to see you back at work," Bucky says, smiling at you again.

"It's good to be back."

"Stark said he sent you on some small jobs."

"Yeah. They felt rather dull compared to what we have been through," you laugh softly.

"We've missed you," Steve says.

You smile.

"The Baron has missed you too," Bucky tells you.

You furrow your brow at him.

"He has?"

Bucky nods.

The Baron must really feel bad for the way he was with you. Everything indicates he was sorry. From him getting out of the car to check on you when you had been shot, to visiting you in the hospital, and now inviting you back to his estate.

You felt rather giddy.

The car pulls up the familiar drive with the bare garden and comes to a stop. Steve stops you from getting out on your own and opens your door for you.

You just roll your eyes.

Bucky grabs your suitcase and the two of them lead the way inside. They takes you up to Zemo's office, where Bucky then parts ways with you and leaves you with Steve.

Steve knocks on the door.

"Enter."

Steve opens the door and steps inside first. He steps off to the side and let's you enter after him.

"Y/N has arrived, sir."

Helmut looks up from the file he had been reading rather quickly. He stares at you.

Just as stunning as he remembered you.

"Leave us."

Steve nods and closes the door behind him.

Helmut stands up from his desk and gestures to the chair opposite him. You walk over and take a seat, looking at him.

He hasn't looked away once since you entered.

"I'm glad to see you have recovered," he says, starting off.

"Yes, it took some time, but I'm alright. Thank you for inviting back onto the assignment, sir."

He had discovered just how much he hated hearing you call him that. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips, but even when he had requested it last time, you had said no.

"It is my pleasure, though I haven't officially put you back onto the team yet. I have a proposal for you," he says, sitting back down.

"Oh?"

Helmut pulls out a couple of pieces of paper that been stapled together. He sets them down in front of you and gestures to them.

You could tell it was a contract.

You pick them up and look at them. Silence settles over you both as you read.

He waits with bated breath.

When you have read the terms you look back up at him with a confused glint in your eye.

"This contract..."

"Yes."

"You want me to be your personal bodyguard?"

"Yes."

"To leave Stark Industries and work for you?"

"Yes."

You look at the contract again. He was asking for your employment, not just hiring you from your current status, but to be his personal bodyguard.

"You can refuse and I'll have you sent home immediately."

Though he didn't want that. He wanted you to stay. He knew, after that day, that in tour hands his life was safe. He also knew that deep down he didn't want to be parted from you.

Zemo didn't want to call it a crush, but there was definitely something brewing. He liked you, he really did. It was more than just a crush for him. He wanted to know you and he didn't know any other way to get that other than employ you.

You would be living here, working here, every day.

"The contract would be effective immediately," he tells you.

"What about Stark? He would have to know."

"Well, of course. Would you rather phone him before making a decision?" He offers you the phone sitting on the desk.

"May I?"

"Please."

You set the contract down and pick up the phone.

Helmut sits back in his chair and waits, watching and listening. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

The conversation over the phone is short. You glance up at him several times, agreeing a lot to whatever Stark was saying down the phone. Helmut tried his best not to let it show just how eager he was to hear what was happening.

You agree once more before hanging up the phone.

You look at Zemo.

He sits up straighter in his chair, looking at you with curious brown eyes.

You smile.

God, your smile was a beautiful sight, and you were smiling at him!

"Do you have a pen?" You ask.

That wasn't quite what he was expecting to hear, but he nods and takes a pen from his desk, handing it over to you. You take it from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. You didn't seem to notice, be he did.

He lowers his hand slowly as he watches you sign the contract.

Rather uncharacteristically he wanted to jump from his seat, smiling and cheering, but resists. You have no idea how happy you had just made him.

He remains composed.

You put the pen down and slide the contract back over to him, smiling.

"It's my pleasure to be your bodyguard, sir. I am glad to know you have faith in my skills to do such a job."

He smiles.

Helmut holds his hands out and you take it, shaking it firmly.

He was holding your hand. His heart was having a rave.

You let go.

He feels the loss immediately. Your hand fit so perfectly in his, he felt it belonged in his grasp.

Why am I thinking about you like this?

You stand up and straighten your tie.

"Permission to go get settled before I officially start working?" You ask.

"Permission granted. I shall see you later." He had no idea how he had kept his voice so calm.

You nod and take your leave.

Once the door closes behind you, Helmut drips his face into his hands and leans against his desk using his elbows.

You worked for him now.

He would see you every day.

Every day he would have to pretend he was falling for your charm. You had no idea the affect you had on this man and it was driving him crazy.

Would he be feeling this way if you hadn't saved his life? He had no idea.

All he did know was that he was over the moon you had taken the job.

If he could help it, he would keep you out of harm's way. That might be difficult considering the circumstances, but he never wanted to see you hurt like that again.

He still saw it in his nightmares.

You made your way to your given room. You would be staying here from now on. You would make it your own in due time.

You sat on the bed and smiled.

His own personal bodyguard. You had more than proved your worth.

You were proud of yourself.

Thank you, Baron.

You just had just break it to your friends. Speaking of, Bucky was standing in your doorway looking at you.

"What's on your mind?" He asks, smiling softly.

"Something happened."

For a moment he looks concerned and enters your room.

"What happened?"

You smile as you look at him.

"He hired me."

"I figured he would, that's why he invited you back, right?"

"No, he hired me. I work for him now. I signed his contract. I'm the personal bodyguard of Baron Zemo."

Bucky stands in silence for a moment. You can see him trying to work it out in his mind.

"He hired you as his personal guard?"

"Yes."

Bucky smiles.

"The man is so in love with you, oh my god!"

You stare at him wide eyed.

"He is not!"

"He definitely is," Bucky grins.

"Is not! It just means I proved myself. He doubted me and I showed him I could do it. Feel proud for me."

He smiles softly.

"I am proud, but I'm also not joking. I think he likes you. Zemo missed you while you were gone, and he had been cold and mean after finding out you had been sent home."

You shake your head softly.

"Coincidence. He had been attacked, he has every right to be cold and mean again."

"Y/N, listen to me. He missed you."

You shake your head again and stand up.

"You're delusional. He just trusts me. This does mean we are only colleagues while you're here."

Bucky sighs softly.

"That's a shame, but I'm proud of you. This is a big deal."

"Yeah, it is."

Bucky hugs you before making his leave. He was going to let Steve know about what happened.

You let him go.

You're not sure why, but you had an inkling things were about to change. Something was going to happen and you were going to be happy.

Perhaps it was because you were starting a new chapter of your life here in Sokovia.

Bodyguard to the Baron, what an honour!

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