#a single brain cell rattling between them

[twstjam]

This will be the death of me - Part 1

Characters: Malleus Draconia & Yuu

Ship(s): Planned romantic Malleyuu

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: You've never seen a dragon before—Heck, you thought they were extinct!—but even someone with half a brain cell can put together that it would be smarter to NOT get on one's bad side.

Is it any better to get on a dragon's good side though? That depends... on if you can survive his clinginess.

Or: You end up in a bit of a httyd experience after running into and helping a dragon on your travels.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

Like many other situations in your life, you're not entirely sure how you got into this mess. As inevitable as it might be, it's not like you wanted to be screaming your voice hoarse while looking down the jaws of a man-eating beast.

By pure dumb luck or some form of divine intervention, you'd managed to scramble away right as it snapped its jaws shut, jumped onto your feet, and shot away like a bullet. You didn't turn back—Didn't dare to—but you honestly felt like you had death on your heels. You're familiar enough with the feeling to recognise it, but this time you were positive that it was actually going to catch you this time.

You skidded to a stop—And subsequently fell on your ass—when you suddenly heard a squealing rumble. It got cut off abruptly, followed by the sound of people shouting, chains rattling, and something massive dragging through the dirt. Then, you heard a sound like heavy rocks skidding together and then a loud thump. A pause of silence... and then cheering.

Now you find yourself sitting around a fire with people you don't have a single lick of recognition for. You're surrounded by the laughter and drunken singing of the king's soldiers, being forced to awkwardly rock side to side by the swaying bodies you're squished between.

Maybe you should be celebrating. You did just narrowly escape death after all, but that's nothing new at this point considering your track record and honestly, how can you just gloss over the fact that these people had used you as bait to catch an ancient beast?

After that maddening race for your life, armoured strangers had come out of the bushes and thicket to announce to you that they had just captured that beast that had tried to eat you— a dragon —and to also thank you for wandering into its vicinity and luring it out for them.

They had been there. They had watched as you'd cluelessly treaded on dragon territory and almost became dragon chow.

The chill of fear in your body had heated to anger and you were about to tell them just how exactly you felt about their dragon-hunting tactics when it suddenly hit you—A dragon. This massive, hulking beast… this embodiment of the night… this creature glaring at you with sharp, neon green eyes and bound in massive iron chains… is a dragon .

All your fury had dissipated and were instead replaced by a sense of dread that numbed your body and stiffened your limbs. Chained or no, the burning fury that you saw in this creature's eyes promised revenge. You don't know about the soldiers that had captured it, but as someone who had looked down its gaping jaws of death, you weren't eager to be at the receiving end of its wrath.

After the celebrations around the fire, the soldiers had oh-so kindly invited you to rest in their camp for the night as thanks for your assistance. If you'd wanted to receive such "graciousness" in exchange for such an experience you never would've left home.

The soldiers quickly conk out as soon as they hit their sleeping bags, the rum swiftly taking them under. They'll be feeling that in the morning for sure... and maybe even the sole of your boots, if you're impulsive enough.

You don't fall asleep—You can't, not with the massive black bulk looming over the entire camp and spanning twice its length. You'd overheard the soldiers discussing lookout for the night, but if you were right, whoever is currently on duty (and every other person who's supposed to swap with them) should be too buzzed out of their mind to stay awake.

You slip out of your sleeping bag towards where the dragon is lying (even with its abyssal hide melding with the pitch black of the night, it's hard to miss with the gleam of the chains and just by how BIG it is) and sure enough, the soldier sitting watch is drooling on the spear that they're leaning on.

Chills shudder across your entire body and all of your hairs stand on end as you approach the bound beast. The cold fear intensifies, enveloping your entire body when you see the dragon's gaze on you. Its eyes are a green you've never seen before. It reminds you of fire, even though you've only ever seen orange and blue ones.

Its eyes are slitted. Wary. You take another step closer and its warning growl shakes the ground beneath your feet. You freeze on the spot, but fortunately you still have enough feeling in your body to move and bow your head in submission. Hopefully—Or if your luck plays out—the dragon understands it to be the non-threatening display that it is, or at least doesn't disregard it.

To your relief, the dragon stops growling, and even though it's still glaring at you, you take it as a good sign.

"I'm going to try and free you," you whisper. You slowly reach into your satchel and pull out a massive ring of keys, being mindful to not clink them together and make noise. With how out of their minds with alcohol the soldiers were, it was no special feat to find out who had the keys and snatch them without being spotted. The dragon's eyes zero in on the keys and you see its pupils go slightly rounder.

The dragon doesn't growl, but it still watches you carefully as you get closer—Close enough to touch. You keep the beast in your peripherals as you search for the locks in the chains. You murmur an "A-ha!" you finally find one and get to work slotting in a key.

There's a click , and a rush of triumph fills your chest when the chain comes undone. A lump lodges itself in your throat though when the chain snaps back with a sharp noise. You hold your breath and whirl around to make sure the sound hasn't woken anyone.

No one's moved. The soldiers are as still as the dead. You let out a sigh of relief and go on to find the next lock.

It occurs to you, in the middle of finding the third lock, that this might be a bad idea. Sure, it was already a bad idea to incur the wrath of an ancient beast by binding it like a common animal, but for obvious reasons, it might be a worse idea to release the aforementioned wrathful beast.

"When you're free, you're not gonna eat me, right?" you whisper to the dragon as you unlock the iron collar around its neck. The dragon is quiet. It instead responds by bending its long neck around once you've freed it to look at you. You stumble back, startled, but it doesn't do anything else other than stare you down. There's no hostility in its gaze though, so your heart settles.

"...Is that a yes?" you murmur.

The dragon makes a short snuffing noise but it doesn't sound agitated. It lowers its massive head and you take a step back, but the motion is careful. There's no risk of it knocking you over with its oversized snout and instead you have easy access to the iron clamping its jaws shut.

Why don't you find out? the creature's intelligent, gleaming gaze seems to say.

You take a deep breath, muster every ounce of courage and foolishness in your body, and reach forward with the key.

Your hand accidentally brushes its face. The dragon growls, you curse, and the both of you jerk away from each other.

You try again, more carefully this time. The dragon's big eyes are even more unnerving this close, but you're not deterred. Your conviction has always been either your savior or downfall, and you've never been more anxious to find out which it is this time.

The mechanism in the lock clicks . You grin victoriously at the dragon as it pulls its head back, but it vanishes off your face when the beast tosses its great head and throws the iron muzzle to the ground with a clang that makes you jump.

"Wait—!" you call out too late as startled yells sound out from the soldiers in the camp. The soldier on lookout, the one closest to you and the dragon, jolts awake and their eyes bug out of their head upon seeing the dragon loom over them with its teeth bared.

"Shit!" they yell out. "The beast is—"

The soldier is abruptly cut off by a great black maw closing around them. Screams and yells of terror ring out. The dragon locks its jaws with a sickening crunch before flinging the limp body aside like a ragdoll.

You should be scared. You should be horrified. But instead, you swallow and think, I'm glad that wasn't me .

Sue you, you're still petty about being used as dragon bait.

The soldiers, still dazed from their night of drinking, stumble to their feet, but it's only a matter of time before the adrenaline sobers them up enough to grab their weapons and more chains. You focus back on the task of releasing the dragon—There's only a few more chains left to go!—but it rises up on its chained feet.

"Oh come on!" you exclaim as you impulsively grab onto its leg before it gets too far for you to reach the lock. Your arms are almost pulled out of their sockets as you're jerked along like no more than an annoying piece of paper stuck to a slightly damp foot. "Stay—Stay still!"

You can't see what's going on, but you hear shouts and the dragon bellowing above you. You continue to be flung around on your reptilian joyride as it knocks over soldiers with its powerful tail and snaps more up in its terrifying teeth. The smell of blood in the air thickens, but your attention is solely on the manacles on the dragon's legs.

Despite being jerked around, you manage to successfully free the beast's front legs. You lose your grip and narrowly miss being stepped on when the dragon charges forward to snap up fleeing soldiers. The breath is knocked out of you with how hard you hit the ground and you lie there, groaning.

" YOU! "

You startle at the sharp yell and flip around onto your front to look up at the seething face of a soldier you recognise to be the one that was holding the keys—The captain. Uh oh.

"Uh, hey..." you stammer breathlessly with a sheepish smile.

"What have you done?!" the soldier screeches. You hear the tell tale sound of a sword being dragged out of its sheath and you catch the glint of iron in the soldier's hand. "You'll pay for this!"

You yelp and skitter on the ground in a pathetic attempt to get away as the sword is raised. Right as you think you're about to be run clean through, you're deafened by a loud roar. You catch the captain's eyes widening the split second before black scales suddenly appear in your vision.

You hold your arms over your ears when the dragon above you snarls loud enough above you to possibly burst your eardrums. The temperature all around you rises unbearably. A blood-curdling scream cuts through the air, but still all you can think to do is find the keys on the ground and drag yourself through the dirt to reach the manacles on the dragon's back legs.

As you're unlocking the second manacle, you hear soldiers yelling out battle cries and charging the dragon's rear with weapons and chains drawn. You're about to yell out a warning, but the dragon lifts its tail and easily sweeps it over the approaching attackers, knocking them over like barrels.

The dragon is completely free to move now, but you still hear the clinking of chains as the dragon moves above you. Its wings!

You crawl out from underneath the dragon's belly, stumble to your feet, and immediately come face-to-face with blindingly neon green eyes. The dragon has its neck craned toward you, eyes trained on you instead of the armed soldiers. You're momentarily distracted by the arrows and spears embedded in the beast's black hide before focusing back on the iron chains binding its wings.

The chains clink and clatter metallically as the dragon flexes its wings in alarm at soldiers aiming bows, crossbows, and spears. The beast reacts, moving around wildly. Not wanting to get squished by a rampaging thousand-pound dragon, you do the only thing you feasibly can—You jump onto its back.

Alright. It's not your brightest idea, because the dragon immediately starts trying to shake you off, but you grip onto one of the many ridges on its back and hold on for dear life.

"Stay still! I'm trying to save your fucking life here!" you scream at the top of your lungs. The dragon makes a displeased grumble but it fortunately remembers its priorities and turns its attention towards the people trying to kill the two of you.

You hear spears and bones snapping, wood creaking beneath powerful jaws as the dragon picks up a wagon and smashes it on the soldiers that scatter like ants to get away. As this happens, you're fighting to keep your grip on the dragon's back and unchain its wings. You succeed with one and almost get your arms torn off as the beast immediately lifts it and beats it down in one rough movement that has its back muscles rippling and jostling you.

You hiss at the feeling of its scales scraping your skin raw, but still you hold on. One could say your determination is otherworldly, but you'd say it's just your self-preservation kicking in for once and demanding you don't fucking die.

It would've been more helpful if it had kicked in before you had committed to jumping on a dragon's back, but now wasn't the time to lament on that.

By some miracle, you manage to reach the other wing despite all the pain and unsteadiness with the key in hand. You shove it into the lock with a yell and—

Twist. Click. Clang.

The dragon shakes the chains off its wing as you dig your fingers into its back and try to catch your breath. With the dragon's ridges as handholds, you pull yourself further up the dragon's back in hopes of positioning yourself more securely, but as you do so, shadows fall over you as the beast unfurls its wide, wide wings and slams them down.

The sound that deafens you is like a clap of thunder. You shut your eyes tight when the wind suddenly whips up around you, tugging on your clothes and hair and threatening to drag you off the dragon's back and down to the ground.

Which—You realise, when you crack your eyes open—is a long way down because dear Seven Greats you're flying .

The furious winds continue to get colder and stronger and it's all you can do to not fall off and splatter on the ground like a pancake. You manage to peer down below despite how the height makes your stomach swoop and sees soldiers shouting out and pointing at the dragon lifting up into the sky. They're running around to grab more weapons and chains but you doubt they're going to do the slightest bit of good.

You can't begin to imagine what's going on through their minds right now. You're on the dragon's side and you're still terrified. The beast roars as loudly as the thunder that drums the heavens. The air buzzes against your skin as it charges with electricity. The dragon heaves a deep breath and you swear your entire body erupts with sweat as it unleashes a column of bright green fire on the humans below.

Soldiers scream and dive for cover. Wagons and trees groan and break beneath the force and heat of the dragon's breath. Even though you're fortunate enough to not be caught in the inferno below, the heat is still strong enough from its back to be suffocating.

Lightning flashes, momentarily blinding you with green light, and the crack of thunder that follows it combined with the sound of the dragon's beating wings overwhelms you and you lose your bearings. Your grip slips from the dragon's ridges and you tumble gracelessly from its back.

The wind whips around you, roars in your ears, flaps your clothes wildly before it all abruptly stops. You're not all there, but you're pretty sure that a fall from such a long height is supposed to end with pain and death, not pain and a suffocating pressure around your torso.

Despite your unfocused vision and the strong winds pushing your head down, you manage to tilt your chin up and meet the dragon's gaze. You're once again frozen, but you quickly ease out of it when you recognise the lack of hostility from before. Instead of slitted, its pupils are round and its eyes aren't narrowed in a glare.

The dragon does nothing but stare at you as it continues to hover in the air. For a moment, you wonder if it's trying to decide on whether or not it should uncurl its claws and drop you to your death, but it's clear what it decides on as you're not a pitiful stain on the scorched ground below. Instead of safely putting you down like you expect it to do though, you find yourself pressed against a wall of tough scales.

The beast holds you close to its chest and beats its wings, carrying itself— and you —away from the carnage.

[starqueensthings]

Summary: chapter starts after a three-week time jump. June and Challa have just completed another lesson on the combat base and continue to struggle with the students. After forming a plan of attack, June reenters the base and quickly gets disoriented attempting to find her way out. Anxiety begins to boil as she finds herself somewhat cornered in a dead end hallway… until someone arrives to save the day

Rating/WC: all chapters are 16+ for subject matter unless otherwise noted | 6835 words (she’s a long one, folks!)

WARNINGS: mild graphic language, mild anxiety.

A/N: not particularly proud of this chapter, but I’ve worked and reworked it too many times now… my brain is turning into scrambled egg. As always, if you see typos, run on sentences, and/or passive verbs… no you don’t.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

“Maybe I'll just drag the whole desk to the back corner…” June groused, the acerbic nature of her current mood completely laid bare by both the bite neath her words, and the emphatic yank she offered that connection cord as she tugged it from the port in Challa’s tablet. “I know it’s not going to solve anything, but… I have to do something. I'm losing my mind, and I know you are too.”

Though he granted her an indulgent snort whilst hoisting his bag on to the podium and peeling the zipper apart to rehome his trusted device, his succeeding response failed to match the antipathy surging through his colleague’s boiling blood. “Yes,” he began with a sigh. “Securing their attention today did prove particularly challenging.”

While the true vitriol of which she yearned to voice vied desperately to escape the corral behind pursed lips, she permitted only a small huff to escape her nose, as the notion of inciting yet another potentially caustic discussion about how that century of troopers continuously failed to offer them the respect their title should merit, promised to only intensify the disgust she felt toward those students, and the dejection that had long-since robbed Challa’s eyes of that neon ambition.

Instead, only a frustrated sigh was granted its leave, obscenely rattling her lips as it fled the tense container of her chest, and though that laden breath did momentarily succeed in dissipating a portion of the ire she’d trapped in her jaw during that near-tortuous three-hour lecture, it was a mere second before her upper lip began to flatten in earnest atop the vivid recollection of a soldier in the first row assaulting her taciturn perch behind the desk by winking and licking his lips at near-regular intervals.

Correctly recognizing the disgruntlement neath that poignant exhale (having heard it depart her scowling lips on countless occasions), Challa cast her something near an apologetic glance, lips compressed into a thin line of sympathy whilst a ruminative silence saturated the air between them.

And though she avidly sought any sense of resolution to the behaviour that saw her deliberately hidden behind her datapad twice a week for a trio of hours, Challa’s countering silence was not fuelled by the dismissive finality it would have appeared to be, but by the considerate notion of repeating words already spoken only threatened to exacerbate her merciless chagrin; he’d been audience to her exasperated invective a handful of times now, including the off-site meeting last weekend where the pair discussed June’s frustration ad nauseum amidst hopes it may appease some portion of her distress.

“There isn’t a single cell in my body that doesn’t sympathize with you, June,” he’d assuaged upon the reemergence of her grievances, pausing only to hand her a fresh mug of homemade caf and take a seat atop the only sofa cushion they hadn’t blanketed in several weeks worth of upcoming lesson plans. “And while it won’t offer the consolation you seek, watching it unfold from behind the podium is quite disheartening; I can certainly understand why you must feel something of ‘a fish in a bowl’. You see, from what Eagle divulged during our tour, you are one of very few women granted access to the combat base; the remaining majority are Jedi, whose allotted military rank commands an inherent degree of respect from the clones, and a handful of nosey senators who turn their noses up and see themselves out within minutes of arriving. To compound the issue further, our audience presents as quite undersocialized due to the geographical seclusion of the planet they’ve only recently departed. But this true challenge is this—” He paused to shift his weight against the arm of the sofa, balancing his own hot mug on his knee with one hand, while the other draped atop the backrest of the seat beside him. “—If you remember, our contract explicates that we, under no circumstances, are to act as disciplinarians. The nature of their training requires that soldiers be reprimanded with consistent, particular practices to ensure any resulting resentment does not impact the resolve of their loyalty to their superiors or the objective. For us to enforce a punishment of any variation would act as both a disservice to their training and a breach of our contract. Eagle has advised me that we can report any… misbehaviour… to him, but— I’m sorry, June, it must remain at that.”

Today had seen their sixth lesson brought to completion amid an unchanged dynamic, though thanks to some tacit premise, the troopers had apparently earmarked lessons on Zhellday mornings as an opportunity for an uninhibited nap away from the castigation of their superior officers. Quickly identifying that unexpected, yet, welcome placidity as the perfect means to enact a tidbit of revenge for their abysmal behaviour, June proceeded to let her datapad fall with a thunderous bang atop that desk at first sign of those lids beginning to droop, stifling a series of dubious giggles with pursed lips as their eyes sprang open and their shoulders jerked in alarm.

But those micro moments of vengeance, while instantly effective at boosting her morale, were fleeting at most. Sadly, each of the four lessons they’d notched into their belt was accompanied by a dispirited, post-class conversation about how little those soldiers seemed to be engaging with that so-imperative content. Challa, who had spent sleepless days… weeks… meticulously crafting that course curriculum to ensure every lecture was laden with the knowledge that promised to extend the lives of his students, had taken their arrant disinterest very personally. That once-springing step had returned to something-near a flat footed slap as he moped around the hospital, those already narrow shoulders sagging even further beneath a rejection of which he could not understand, and did not know how to rectify.

Though June had seized every possible opportunity to grouse in Jacoba’s ear about the recurrent salacious etiquette of those students (including a detailed depiction of every licentious hand gesture made across the room in her direction), the magnitude of Challa’s perceived failure, and how wholly it had robbed him of that once-aflamed determination, managed to supercede her own discomfort. Following in his wake as he slumped down those dark, industrial halls toward the amphitheater of their apparent ineptitude saw her less wary about the repugnance that would, undoubtedly, surge beneath her skin in only minutes, and more concerned about how long Challa could willingly stand behind that podium and wordlessly beg that century of soldiers for the attention he knew would prognosticate their safety if they would only listen.

He thanked June in a little more than a mumble as she slid his datapad into his bag, thoughtlessly reconnecting its buckles and tossing it over his shoulder amidst a poignant sigh. After collecting her own, much smaller bag from the floor behind teacher’s desk, the duo crossed the room in silence. Desperate to create separation from the potent frustration still fuelling her heart's aggressive cadence, and because she’d long-since lost the invaluable map stashed away on their first day, June fell into a brooding gait behind her boss and pulled her holopad from her purse, all-too willing to let his presence half-a-step ahead guide her back through the maze of that still unknown compound.

“They’re just not connecting to the material like I thought they would,” Challa mused as they neared the heavy durasteel door that would permit their reentry to the civilian world. “I truly believed that the promise of a complete, theoretical knowledge of combat medicine would see them intrigued at least. Though, I’m now realizing that may have been a gross overestimation.”

“They’re intrigued all right,” June griped from behind him, blue eyes narrowed slightly as they scanned the surgical schedule she’d accessed via the device still cradled in her hands, “By my chest...”

He sighed again, palm thoughtlessly reaching to massage the tension that heavy brow seemed unable to release as the door to the speeder lot slid open, bathing them in effulgent midday sunlight. “Perhaps I need to revisit the lecture content,” he suggested, politely gesturing for her to cross the threshold ahead of him whilst shifting his hand to shield his eyes from the unexpected, yet, welcome onslaught of spring sun. “Perhaps I’ll need to further trim some objectively tedious areas, and propagate othe–”

“You know we can’t tweak any more of the content,” June rebutted quickly upon hearing the despondency behind those words, and it required only a fleeting glance upward to recognize the strain amid his lissome features as he gnawed the insides of his cheeks. “We entertained that option last week, and it’s not feasible. You were extremely intentional with the material you assigned to each lecture; it’s all information they need to learn before they get deployed or they’re not going to last any longer than the first generation medics. And, if that’s the case, we’re wasting our tim—”

“Then what do you suggest?” Challa hissed back, long fingers falling to his side in something near despair as he halted upon that threshold.

June froze half a breath later, that biting exasperation rendering her unsurprised as she turned to find those violet eyes narrowed amidst the same undeniable appeal for help that had soaked his plea… and she near-cowered under its intensity. Averting her own gaze to the loose gravel beneath her shoes, she upheld an apologetic silence, entirely unable to provide him the solution that he so desperately sought.

“I eagerly await any suggestion you may have, June,” he pressed, offering a one-shouldered shrug that instantly exposed his distress. “Anything. I need your infamous, out-of-the-box insight. I need you to attune that inherent clone-connection and help me establish a means of liaising with them, because most of them want nothing to do with me or this class, and it's going to undoubtedly cost them their lives.”

“I know, but— How am I— What do I—”

Hurrying to bridle that slew of indignant stammers, she pursed her lips, though despite each emotion-fuelled protest battling that restriction atop at her tongue, June was largely cognizant that voicing any or all of those weak arguments would only serve a disservice in their feat of finding a solution. And worse still, beneath that awareness was an uncomfortably effervescent layer of near-guilt; though she’d always rebuffed the continuously implied notion of ‘clone fluency’ to which she’d been, apparently, divinely imbued, there was no denying that the visceral distaste of the soldiers’ mild derogation had almost entirely eclipsed the commitment she’d once promised to this project and her friend.

“Anything,” he repeated, closing the space between them and putting a discerning hand on her shoulder.

“What if—” she started slowly, clamping her eyes closed atop a need to abscond from those anguished, violet eyes. “I don’t know… What if we just change our approach to the lecture content?”

His call for answers now saw Challa silent… frozen… seemingly unwilling to proffer even a breath lest it rob her of the incipient proposal he so ardently coveted.

It took a series of forceful blinks to fully eradicate the blur from June’s vision upon meeting his gaze again, as reopening her eyes had seen them instantly rebuke the power of that gleaming sun, and though that brief moment of pseudo-solitude via visual darkness helped appease the remaining dregs of her ire, the duress of his expectant gaze seemed only reinvigorated by that uncharacteristic patience.

“Well if they’re going to just sit there and be distracted,” June began, nodding over her shoulder toward where their respective speeders sat side by side before continuing on the journey across that crunchy, gravel lot. “Why can’t we use that to our advantage? Why can’t we find a way to distract them with the information? Why can’t we get their dicks out of their hands, and put MedScanners in them instead?”

She cast him a sidelong glance as she neared her speeder bike, wholly expecting that near-vulgar comment to have elicited some degree of silent condemnation from his prudish and scornful lips, but, to her surprise, there was nothing of the sort. Even the intensity of the plea behind those eyes had been replaced by a pensive cogitation.

“Hmm.” She watched his focus dart to and fro between proliferating ideas known only to his exceptional mind, that heavy brow furrowing with each passing breath, whilst little more than quiet murmurs escaped those thin lips. “Well, that’s… that could prove… hmm… attentive? Well, certainly. Yes… but perhaps both?… Both…”

June took the opportunity presented by that regenerated rumination to swap her holopad for her bike keys at the bottom of her bag, deftly unlocking the hidden compartment below her seat and tossing her purse carelessly into its depths.

“This holds potential,” Challa posed as she latched it closed again. “Holds promise even, if handled correctly. And dare I say— it may be your best idea yet.”

“I like the sounds of that,” she answered atop the ghost of a chuckle as she prepared to toss a leg over the seat of her bike. “But probably smart to chat about it later tonight. You’ve got a neuroendoscopy on the books in like ten minut—”

“And— well… I think our best chances of success lay in your very capable hands.”

His tone brightened almost as rapidly as that dejection seeped from his features, something resembling a prickling confidence erupting behind his eyes and stealing her attention so abruptly that her hands simply froze midway between their previous perch on her hip, and the handlebars to which she had begun to reach.

Eyes quickly narrowing under a burgeoning suspicion, she peered back at her boss, the harrowing implications of his vague proposal forcing her toe back toward that compacted dust below.

“What do you mean?” she asked him slowly, her own tone darkening amidst a question that hardly needed asking, the inference of that near-dubious smirk tugging upward on his lips instantly providing her the truth she needn’t have probed for. “Challa, you better not be on the brink of asking me t—”

”I’d like you to lead the next lecture. I think having, as you would say, ‘their dicks in their hands’ may actually prove beneficial if their MedTools are in the other.”

“Are you kidding me?” June near-gasped, followed by an incredulous laugh as she glared slack-jawed and completely perplexed toward her audacious boss. “Are you insane? Have we not been sitting in the same classroom for the last two weeks? Half of them aren’t listening to you because they’re staring at me. How is putting me behind the p—”

“Precisely,” he interrupted with an infuriating simplicity. “If my hypothesis bears any merit, and they typically do, these troopers may just be more willing to listen to the person they’re staring at. After all, June, you can not deny that you have their attention, whether it's the way you’d like or not.”

“It’s not—”

“And who knows,” he pressed on as if she hadn’t attempted to interject. “If the plan proves effective, you may be able to teach them a little respect while you’re at it.”

‘Not a chance,’ she thought instantly with an indignant shake of the head.

Every passing second saw Challa’s brows lift ever higher toward the top of his head whilst that duo remained near-locked in a battle of opposing insistence, the maddening smirk atop his lips rivaled by the equally potent scowl atop her own; each of them adamantly refusing to procure the white flag of concession and let it flutter in that beautiful spring zephyr.

“What’d���ya say we just try?” he urged upon watching her arms knot across her chest in a gesture of unrestrained obstinance. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, but it’s a viable option in the interim while we brainstorm other facets. Please?”

June sighed heavily. Filled with a mounting regret for even having uttered the wanton remark that triggered this unwelcome scheme, she peered sternly through the veil of her lashes whilst her lips compressed to withhold another incredulous scoff. There was precisely nothing appealing about this idea… nothing except it had returned that paralyzingly hopeful smile to Challa’s face.

“Fine,” she spat at him. “But there better be a bottle of Alderanian purple wine on my desk tomorrow morning. Black label with the wax top.”

She watched his nimble fingers ball inward into fists and shoot toward the sky amidst a motion of unadulterated glee, a cry of delight leaving his lips as he reached to readjust the bag now slipping earnestly off his shoulder amidst his mirthful motions.

“And if there’s even one comment about my anatomy…” she warned, pointing a menacing finger toward his chest. “I will break someone’s nose.”

“Understood,” Challa agreed, arms swinging awkwardly as if he’d briefly entertained the urge to throw them around her shoulders in an embrace of gratitude, but thought better of it lest he return to work in need of an urgent nasal realignment. ”Let’s meet in my office later to discuss details. I know we weren’t planning on opening the MedKits until much later in the course but I think it may be prudent to—”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “We’ll talk later. Now get going! You have brain surgery in three minutes.”

Challa dashed across that speeder lot and clambered into his air speeder with the same urgency that had seen him trotting down the hall for their first ever lecture with June breathlessly attempting to keep up from half a pace behind him, and the sudden return to that beaming optimism was the only thing presently keeping her from groaning her potent displeasure aloud.

“And I want a Cleanser Tube for my apartment!” she shouted to his retreating figure, watching his speeder hover soundlessly atop the ground toward the exit, and he offered her only a small wave before departing that deserted lot and disappearing into the skyway.

Having heard her outcry through that permeable, barbed gate, the troopers flanking either side turned toward her, smiles hidden behind their buckets; the one on the left quietly muttering a disgruntled ‘civvies…’ before quickly returning to his straight-backed post.

It wasn’t until June had swung her leg over her seat and kicked that bike into life did her bespoiled mood reach a sinister and unprecedented apex, the momentary peace gained by the promise of a premium bottle of her favourite wine was instantly usurped by a sudden realization… the hoarse chuckle leaving the lips of the trooper loitering just outside that barbed barrier had sounded immediately familiar, and hardly a moment passed amidst a burgeoning puzzlement before she’d placed that sound. The unshaven trooper in the administration office had once granted her that same gruff chortle, hurrying to erect himself from an almost complete recline atop that worn desk chair; overgrown brows reaching toward his unkempt hairline and that gravelly snicker escaping his lips as she attempted to prevaricate his request for a formal introduction by offering her name in little more than a mumble before hastily dropping a folder into the intake tray on his desk… the attendance folder that they’d forgotten to return today amid their haste to leave.

”Noooooo,” she cried aloud, head tipping toward that glorious blue sky while her hands released their grip on the handlebars and slumped heavily into her lap.

Having failed to read her contract in its entirety (a truth she’d sooner pitch herself over the mouth of the underworld than admit to), June wasn’t entirely sure what repercussions would ensue if they failed to provide that completed document at the end of each lesson; she typically just simply followed in Challa’s wake as he tucked the folder neath his arm and marched them safely through those bustling corridors. And worse than having to endure the potential consequences of their negligence, she wasn’t even entirely sure she’d have the wherewithal to find her way to their classroom and back without him.

“Ugh,” she growled, killing the engine of her bike with an aggressive crank of the key and clambering off, feet thudding atop that gravel with renewed wrath. “Why? Why does the Maker hate me so? What could I have done in my past life…”

The hallway sitting opposite of that heavy durasteel barrier presented as utterly foreign in the complete void of her boss’s presence. Surely there hadn’t always been that many corridors adjacent to this one, branching out of sight through what seemed to be several dozen more doors than she remembered that wide hallway ever housing? And only increasing that rapidly emerging dread, it seemed whichever fool tasked with designing this contained community had opted to ensure that every threshold looked damn-near identical to the one next to it.

Swallowing what she could of that injustice still asimmer in her gut, she fit her thumbnail between her teeth, eyes darting fervently from one threshold to the next amid a desperate effort to orient herself while she stepped cautiously back into the dim of that esoteric corridor.

‘Damnit, what was it that he said?’ she asked herself, brow furrowing atop the effort to correctly recall Challa’s breathless rambling as he first led them to their classroom several weeks ago. ‘Eleventh door on the right, not including the elevator?’

Her feet took her apprehensively toward the first corridor on the left, eyes darting around for any sign or semblance of familiarity.

‘One… two… three,’ she counted as she trod down the hall, the lingering disdain for her boss entirely diminished by how desperately she wished his embossed lekku were swaying in tune with his step, half a pace in front of her and unknowingly shepherding her through that network of foreign pathways.

The eleventh door looked like nothing she’d ever attempted to enter before. An archaic chrome door handle sat off center in that steel barricade, and try as she might, she simply could not remember ever having needed to turn a handle on her regular journey through these halls, as modern overhead sensors typically activated touch-free upon approach. The tenth door however, immediately adjacent on her right, was an open threshold leading into a much narrower corridor.

“Okay… now last door on the left before the stairwell,” she recalled through the tight clamp of her teeth, immediately turning to pass through that promising entryway. “At least… I think?”

The sound of her sneakers atop that gleaming black floor reverberated near-thunderously around the otherwise deserted hallway, that rhythmic pat pat mixed with the assaulting pound of her heart in her ears worked in stereo to intensify the foreboding in her gut as she neared the last door on the left.

“Please be the right kriffing door,” she pleaded to that empty space, collecting the ID card from her pocket and scanning it across the control panel.

But that acknowledging beep was too familiar, and with a warm wash of relief that door slid aside to expose the now welcome comfort of her classroom. Immediately apparent, and seemingly deriding her negligence with its innocent perch atop that barren desk, was that vapid flimsi folder, and June withheld none of the curses spilling from her lips as she crossed the stage to collect it.

‘Okay, now where is that kriffing Admin office,’ she demanded silently, tucking her prize under her arm and closing the door behind her again. ‘I know it’s next to those big glass doors that lead outside…’

She walked cautiously back in the direction of that central hall, careful to count doorways as they passed through her periphery. She offered nothing but a small snort as a goateed trooper in armour of white and cobalt blue passed her in the hall, charismatically asking if she needed help finding her way back to heaven, though thankfully met no other presence as she rounded a series of subsequent corners.

A cresting wave of pride and serendipitous fortune had her near-leaping on the spot as she turned to find that familiar, broad corridor— the transparent walls of her destination immediately recognizable thanks to their uncanny ability of reflecting the dazzling light pouring in through those neighbouring glass doors, that gargantuan threshold leading to what looked like an oversized, albeit barren, courtyard beyond.

“Hi. Sorry this is late. I hope that’s okay …Bye.”

Her address to the protocol droid behind the counter was near pathetic, offering nothing more but a pitiful apology whilst extracting the folder from under her arm and tossing it haphazardly into the “incoming documents” tray as the sound of her voice near-instantly arose that very scruffy, very tired looking soldier from his perch behind that cluttered desk.

June darted from the room before he could open his mouth to instigate conversation, instead letting the door thud heavily behind her and taking a hurried right turn down the nearest hall… then an immediate left… another left… until…

“Oh no.”

A dead end. She groaned under her breath as her eyes darted toward the unexpected limitations of that tenebrous corridor, its unwelcome appearance quickly forcing a theatrical slump to her shoulders. “Where am I now? And where is that damn map I had?”

Right hand thoughtlessly tapping the cargo pocket in her pants, as if that flimsi key to a successful exodus would suddenly appear to aid in her exploits, she fit the thumbnail of her left between her teeth again and sighed. But she was granted barely a second to dwell in the regret of her own stupidity before her stomach sank ever further…

A collection of resounding, nonmetrical footsteps met her ears, escorted by the blare of a conversation so raucous it was entirely indiscernible from the echo that succeeded every booming word. A choir of hoarse, throaty laughter rang around the corners of her perch, and though that conversation remained mummed by the anxiety of their incipient arrival, ungluing her shoes from the durasteel floor to evade that unseen crowd, proved a task near impossible as each passing second drew them nearer. Any second now they’d pass across the mouth of her semi secluded position. Would they see her? And how many were they? The near-identical nature of their voices meant it was impossible to discern one from the other, but their footsteps? Four? Maybe five?

She swallowed and turned her back, bringing her fingers uselessly to her face so she could mindlessly stare at the abhorrent destruction of her thumbnail, and feign some degree of nonchalance lest one of the intruders notice her attempt to eschew their company.

“Jigs is kriffing di’kut.”

“Nah, he’s a beauty.”

“You know you give them way too long of a leash… all your men.”

“Why shouldn’t I? None of us signed up for this. Who's to say we can’t find a little fun here and there while we’re waiting to dance in the sky?”

“Uhhhh, maybe your CO?”

“Meh, Ponds loves me. I get things done. He doesn’t care how I do it as long as he can check my missions off his list and my casualty numbers stay low.”

“So he says to your face. Maker, I hope I’m around to see the day your ass is assigned a Jedi.”

“I don’t know, Keels. My General is pretty reckless too. Skywalker doesn’t seem to have any interest in playing by the rules…”

It wasn’t until her lungs began to protest the duress of that held breath did the chorus begin to taper, words obscuring as distance robbed them of their once undeniable clarity, further muffling that banter with every step past her unseen perch. She’d barely permitted a sigh of relief to escape her lips, turning back around to continue her now plightful crusade back to the speeder lot, when something caught her eye.

A meticulously cropped head of dark hair suddenly poked back around the corner at the mouth of that hallway, followed moments later by a set of twinkling amber eyes… an impossibly angular jaw… a teal pauldron…

“June?”

The recollection of her name was proven instantly redundant by the expression atop his features, as it near-perfectly enacted the same adorably pleasant confusion once adorned several weeks ago upon their first meeting in 18-S, and though the lambency neath that olive skin could only mean he’d found himself a few good meals and several nights of rest, there was no mistaking the lopsided smile peeling across those now-supple lips as he back peddled into her line of sight.

“Howzer,” she near-choked as the breath inhaled to replace its stale counterpart froze midway to her lungs at the familiar sight of that gallant, white-and-teal kit.

The intoxicating blend of surprise and relief sent her skin atingle as he stepped toward her, the metallic thud of impenetrable boots atop thick steel that, seconds prior, had seen her heart hammering heavily against the walls of her chest, seemed now entirely muffled by the stupefaction coursing through her veins, and though her feigned composure was betrayed by how earnestly her cheeks enflamed as he drew nearer, she could not bridle the smile peeling across her own face.

Howzer came to a halt half a step in front of her, beaming lips parting to seemingly offer some sort of salutation to accompany the reddening of his own ears, but—

“Ey! Howz! Where the kriff are you going? We’re going to be late!”

The captain failed to answer that stern and reproachful summon from round the corner, refusing to deviate his gaze from her as his head shifted a mere millimeter toward that reverberating nag; honeyed eyes narrowing slightly beneath a burgeoning confusion, as if concerned they may be playing tricks on him, as if her seemingly inexplicable appearance may be little more than a cruel mirage.

June stood rooted to the spot, chest heaving amidst the surging adrenaline of first being stranded in this foreign maze of corridors, suddenly cornered, then thrust unceremoniously in front of the very person that wielded an inexplicable power to freeze the air in her lungs.

“What— what are you doing here?” Howzer asked neath a suppressed chuckle, shifting his helmet in its confine below his arm.

“I— Well, I’m kinda lost to be honest.” Her admission came atop an embarrassed snicker of her own, and when attempting to flex the relentless tingle from her fingers proved fruitless, she wrenched her gaze from the teal stripe extending down his chestplate and scanned her surroundings instead.

“Lost?” he repeated, dark brows furrowing slightly. “You’re a long way from the hospital, Mesh—”

“Howz! Come on!”

Again he ignored the demanding call of his hidden comrade, and the continued refusal to wrench his gaze from her despite an apparently urgent appointment had her bottom lip disappearing behind her teeth to intercept the threat of another bashful smirk.

“You don’t say…” she chirruped, offering a goofy smile whilst absently reaching to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “No, I know. I’m… I’m actually helping my boss out. We have a teaching contract with the medic cadets here for the next few months.”

The superficial lines around his eyes, aiding in that adorable furrow and reinforcing the notion that those globes of amber brown had likely seen a lot more than most of his younger bretheren, disappeared entirely as they widened in surprise, lips shifting to compress into a grimace of something near reverence.

“Oh wow,” he answered, gaze dancing warmly across her features as if she’d divulged something truly impressive or prodigious. “That makes sense, actually. I should have known when they said ‘blue eyes’.”

“Who said what…?”

“The shinies. They’ve been whispering non-stop about this ‘hot new civvie’ for weeks.”

As if arriving on cue to reintensify her simmering resentment for that continued execrable behaviour, the memory of that salacious, lip-licking soldier erupted in her mind anew, bringing with it a surge of anger strong enough to rid her cheeks of that flush and send her gaze rolling toward the ceiling.

“Ugh… I hope you’re joking,” she guffawed, readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder and knotting her arms over her chest.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Howzer answered, the smile still hitched to those lips falling only slightly as his gaze narrowed to perceive her overt disdain. “You do have unbelievable blue eyes tho—”

“Howzer!”

“I’ll catch up!” He cocked that sharp jaw over his shoulder only far enough to shout the sentiment down the dark corridor, the rest of his features still surveying her with a curious intrigue until the echo of his vociferation dissipated. “Is class just starting? Or are you heading out?”

“Heading out,” she answered, unfolding her arms from their drape across her chest. “Primeday’s and Zhellday’s we teach until 11, and I just go to work from here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, that alluring smile peeling back across those lips before tipping his wrist to check the time. “11, huh? Maybe I can take you on a little tour before you go? Show you around? Might save you from getting lost next tim—”

”Does that di’kut not know the Commanders are sitting in? Howzer! LET’S GO!”

”Just leave him, Keels. He said it himself, he’s Ponds’s favourite anyway. He’ll be fine.”

June pursed her lips to prevent the chortle erupting in her chest from spilling from her mouth, as Howzer’s heavy sigh of frustration laid bare that he didn’t find the merciless pestering from his companions nearly as amusing as she did. They locked eyes for a second as she choked back her laughter, a derisive snort leaving his nose as he shook his head.

“Kinda seems like you might have somewhere you need to be,” June snickered, gesturing with a nod in the direction of that unseen search party, their dulcet tones still ringing around the vacant corners of that corridor.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he sighed sadly. “At least let me walk you out?”

”I would actually appreciate that,” June answered in earnest. “I feel like I could wander around here for a decade and still never make it out because all the damn doors look the same.”

Heat resurged to her cheeks as he tipped his head back and laughed, sightlessly shifting his helmet to nestle under his other arm as he met her gaze again. “You’re not wrong,” he snorted. “Where abouts are you parked?”

“Um…” she started, an apologetic grimace distorting her features upon the realization that her indolent habit of simply following Challa both through the skyway and down those halls had rendered her more naive and unprepared than she ever thought she would be. “I’m not sure what lot. The one beside the big purple tarps?”

“North,” he answered immediately. “Not actually that far from here so you didn’t wander for long.”

His posture shifted away from her only long enough to gesture that she proceed back the way she came before falling into stride on her right only a moment later, and it wasn’t until he’d peered down at her with a bashful smile that she remembered just how imposing he was in that dominating suit.

‘He was half naked last time you saw him,’ she quickly reminded herself in an effort to justify why she’d hadn’t previously made note of the significant difference in their stature, though the recollection of his bare form had her instantly wishing the subtle, earthy aroma of his aftershave wasn’t wafting down at her and intensifying that incessant tingle neath her skin.

“How’d the cut heal up?” she asked as they rounded another corner, vying that her tone remain casual.

“Oh, good as new,” Howzer replied, casting her an appreciative smile. “You did a great job. I don’t mind the scar either… It’s a good story.”

June bit back the grin attempting to make an appearance in light of his passive praise, instead turning to offer him a cocked-brow of skepticism. While the laceration itself had been a doozy, she couldn’t recall the tale behind it being overly thrilling or harrowing enough to boast about.

“Must be a different story than the one you told me,” she teased. “Unless you’re telling your friends it was that ‘knife wielding maniac’?”

“I might be,” Howzer replied with a guilty grin of his own. “Nah… there isn’t a better story than getting patched up by the prettiest doctor in the galaxy… and it’s not even a lie.”

“Maker have mercy,” she scoffed, attempting to prevent the butterflies in her stomach from escaping through her mouth with a pursed lip smile. “That was cripplingly cheesy.”

Those twinkling eyes vanished beneath crinkled lids as his head tipped backward again, and that same loud chortle escaped his lips and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“It was, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “And it’s not really my style, but my brother said it was bound to work if I could ever get lucky enough to see you again. How’d I do?”

She offered him a one-shouldered, jesting shrug, feigning indifference with a passive grimace and watching the bashful smile peeling across his lips. “What is your style?”

“My style?” he repeated, motioning for her to turn and pass through an open threshold on the right. “I don’t really have one. Right now, it’d be doing everything I can to learn more about you…”

“Well, to start, I’d much prefer real cheese,” she told him, rounding yet another corner. “Nothing woo’s me quite like a snack and a hot caf.”

“Caf and a snack,” he repeated, seemingly committing that notion to memory. “I’ll remember that.”

A welcome sense of familiarity ensued as they veered slightly left and came upon that heavy sliding durasteel barrier that June knew to lead outside.

Howzer stepped half a stride in front of her and opened it as they approached, before gesturing for her to pass over the threshold and into the radiant sunlight ahead of him. The pair of security troopers still loitering just beyond that chain gate turned at the unexpected, jovial intrusion before simultaneously releasing the back ends of their rifles from their gloved grips, and snapping into identical salutes.

Howzer repeated the motion somewhat lazily, though it had apparently offered enough of an acknowledgement for that security duo to return to their post.

As she’d opted to leave her bag locked in its concealed compartment before trudging back into the base, June wasted no time swinging her leg over her dust-covered seat and reigniting the engine.

“Maybe—” Howzer started as she picked her feet off the ground and placed them in the stirrups in prep for her departure. “Maybe I’ll get to see you again on Primeday?”

She watched his masseters momentarily expand neath a jaw clenched tightly in trepidation, deep golden eyes now gleaming in that effulgent sun as they danced somewhat nervously across her features while he reached to absently trail a gloved finger to and fro across his lip. That reminiscent motion near-instantly took her back to watching him self soothe atop the hoverbed in 18-S, blood stained finger repeating that useless swing across a parched lip in an effort to rid himself of a portion of the discomfort he’d been sitting with for hours… and she smiled.

“I’ll be here,” she answered with a shrug.

“Okay cool,” he answered amidst a small snicker of relief. “Hopefully I am too, if the war doesn’t have other plans…”

June froze, brow furrowing and eyes widening at the implications of his inappropriately morbid statement, and she turned to face him with nothing short of a horrified look atop her previously smiling features.

“Deployed,” he clarified upon seeing her expression, smile slipping instantly from his lips. “Just shipped off-world. Sorry, I did not phrase that properly. Deployed… not dead.”

“Well… hopefully neither,” she replied with a snort, stooping forward to place her hands on the handle bars.

“Hopefully neither,” he repeated, lips tensing amid an embarrassed smirk, and offering her a respectful nod as she began to glide slowly toward the gate.

“Thanks for the tour,” she called over her shoulder as he stepped back to watch her depart, the glance she risked toward his still chagrined expression lingering only long enough to see those eyes begin to crinkle amid a genuine smile and she offered nothing more than a quick smirk of her own before waving her ID card in front of the control panel and sneaking her bike through that slowly rolling gate.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

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[denscani]

I think it's fair to assume Dog Teeth likely won't be updated again, which is completely understandable, but i'm curious if you're willing to share what you had planned for your c!Tommy and c!Dream prison fic, set in the 'verse?

i technically have most of it in a draft.

the basics are:

it's dream pov. (therefore was unmotivated to ever finish it at the dsmp height/popularity band it used to be in). involves lot of introspection/inner ruminations.

it goes like canon, where tommy gets stuck in the cell with dream. sam has a retractable leash system for dream that attaches to the back wall and near the food chute. length of chain controlled by a remote-like device. (real chained dog vibes, mostly because I think dt!sam is also kind of a freak like that.)

...and tw here for basics of some of dream's thought patterns ...

while stuck in the cell w/tommy, dream basically thinks about:

a) how much he fucking hates tommy for being annoying/loud/in his space/stuck with him, getting him stuck there in the prison, how everyone is suddenly on tommys side when no one even blinked when he disappeared/got exiled at first, they all found him equally a nuisance to some degree, etc, etc.

b)thinks about how everyone looked at him on the beach, how he knows they want to ask why but his only real reasoning is because he could and because he knew no one could stop him. And, to dream, it was the most effective/fast/efficient (read: entertaining) way to keep tommy in line, and quiet, and semi listening to him for once. like grabbing an insect or weird fucked lizard or something that's been underfoot for so long everyone else ignored it, but you stuck it in a jar and rattled it around hard enough it stopped annoying you. and then kept shaking the jar cause you found it funny and amusing and it was something to do when you're bored.

c) thinks about the past and tommys evolution from burning down georges place to being slowly pressed under his boot to suddenly being gone and then seeing how tommys changed from being in the arctic and with techno. physical and emotional differences, like tommy is full height and tall as or taller than him now, filled out muscle wise--> techno isn't gonna let Tommy sit around and not do chores or mine shit with/ for him ---> dream convinces himself that yeah, well, tommy should thank him then. because dream doesn't think tommy would have been taken in unless he really was crawling up to technos porch like some wounded, skittish animal. annoying and loud, obnoxious pre-exile tommy would have been kicked out day one.

---

outside of the thoughts and ideas dream is cooking up and reflecting on in his brain dome, tommy is stubborn and angry and lashes out the more buttons dream pushes from across the cell (verbally).

basically it's like two different kinds of fucked up dogs put into a small cell and the lack of civility they have for each other is like asking two food aggressive mutts to share a single steak. This includes showing lots of teeth, and using them.

--> and before tommy eventually gets out of the prison cell, he starts making some revelations about dream being pretty top shelf miserable and sort of stuck in time (and mindset), and makes the assertion to dream that he'll be "moving the fuck on with his life" (basically tommy's exact words I penned in the draft), and dream wont be there to see it, etc etc.

(and, because this happens through dream's pov and eyes, dream goes back into stewing and ruminating once tommy leaves. dream thinks about the first day he went to visit tommy in exile and while nothing happens (no armor taken, no items broken, nothing yet), he thinks about how much tommy looked up to him during the moments between the anger. joking around still, the piss sheep, setting up tRent, etc, like dream was someone tommy trusted intrinsically, despite everything. and dream couldn't stop making the comparison in his head to how a dog fed enough times looks at the hand that feeds...and trusts it--needs it-- implicitly.)

Something like that anyways...

[ottertooferswriting]

BG3 Companion OC Ficlet Sneak Peek

I made a Drow Companion\NPC OC and then my brain went 'hm angst story' around Moonrise. So have this little snippet of an in progress thing currently at 2k words. Early access to my writing is on Patreon for a single dabloon a month <3

This snippet is 500'ish words.

Disclaimer: I haven't actually gotten to play through Moonrise yet I'm too much of a map explore ho and completionist, so this is all Creative Liberty. Think of it as a time line divergence or What If. Once I play through I may adjust things to be more accurate.

Have a picture of an approximation of what Micarbryn\Mica would look like before we get into the snippet cuse I'm a very visual person. And a Spotify Playlist cuse I have no self control.

Pt1 snippet:

“ROLAN!!” 

They knew him. That was enough for her. Mica sidestepped to open the way, to where Lia and Cal were sticking their chained arms through the bars of the cell in a desperate attempt to reach out to their sibling. There was an odd look on the wizard's face; a pinched sort of paleness to his skin as he stared at her side as he rushed past her.

He wasn’t a threat, so she could ignore him for now. 

More footsteps. More death. Spells slung from behind her, backup she accepted as the bodies piled. She lost count at 8. An arrow in her thigh she snapped off and ignored. Whispered words, the creed of her house every time she stumbled, every time her vision blurred. 

“You do what you can, then you do more.” 

Copper on her tongue, heaviness in her lungs. A roar from above, deep and primal and animalistic. A roar of rage and determination, a roar of fury and vicious satisfaction. A song that called to her frantically beating heart. They were winning. A brief moment of self indulgence in the lull between those now seeking escape instead of the firepower piled in the corner. Perhaps it was the group that had returned Lichen to her. Come to trade at her Den. 

The strange motley assortment of adventurers with the enhanced but strangely stagnant tadpoles had wriggled their way into her heart within two visits. She hoped that her little phase spider had survived the assault that had led to her capture. 

“You do what you can, then you do more.” 

Burn of poison in the wound at her shoulder. Ignored. She didn’t have time for it. Nor an antidote. Numbness in her fingertips where they slackened around the bloodied chain, ignored. 

Her impact with the floor as one of the Absolutists managed to shove past her drove the cold pinch between her ribs deeper. Wetness in her throat, rattling slick with a bubbling sensation, ignored. 

From the ground Mica lifted a hand, yanking on the tiefling who had been fighting from behind her with her telekinetic grip to pull him from the range of what would have been a deadly blow. 

This one was important. This enemy could not leave. The mark of leadership was on them. Heavy footsteps, a curse as someone admonished an ally. 

“You're too big in this form, you're blocking the stairs!” 

Cool relief trickled through her limbs as her second wind took some of the ache. Forcing herself to her feet, Mica ignored the sound of footsteps on the stone this time. She knew them. They had come just as they said they intended too. The other captives would be safe. There was one more enemy to kill. 

“You do what you can, then you do more.” 

The wizard was capable, but his opponent was desperate. Rolan was bleeding, the terrified voices of his siblings begging, threatening the Absolutist as they struck again and again.

She didn’t have much time. 

[reverienne]

Corinne/Sidane obvi 😌 okay here's a fun(ish) one: Jul and Bogusia swapping bfs lol. could Bogusia go on a date w Chase without getting mad at him. would Red and Jul lose a their money buying old books from Chandry. the important questions, here.

Corinne: Time and place, gorgeous? 😉

I need not to say that it's a yes. Sidane is handsome and full of gender swag, Corinne would definetely be up for flirtation (or possibly more). A tragedy that they get separated by their respective universes, but we both know that it was only because they would be too powerful together. 😔

ooh, this is a fun one! thank you for making my brain cells rattle! 💕

(mild nsfw behind the cut)

...so, I'm surprised to say, Bogumiła WOULD be more than able to go on a date with Chase IF 1) Chase managed to convince Bogumiła that his attraction to her is genuine and not a joke, 2) if Red hasn't been recruited to the Shepherds and is generally out of the picture. Bogumiła seems to have certain issues with perceiving herself as desirable. She's convinced that Red only fell for her brilliant mind and sparkling personality - or rather, that they've been friends long enough that his love for her as a friend made up for any shortcomings she had in a love department (like her appearance). This is obviously not true, but the time distance since their break up and general miscommunication shenanigans of exes!Redmance cloud her judgement. Having Chase confess that he's into her largely because of her appearance would shake her opinion of herself AND of Chase (whom she considered, a bit rightfully, a shallow flirt - one who flirts with everybody and mostly doesn't mean his words) in the best sense. And if Chase was otherwise a good friend to her? If he ended up hearing about her being ditched by her fiance before joining the Shepherds? If he suggested sleeping with him as a way to rebound, to one up the loser by getting it on with (in)famous Chase Trinaeste? And for stress relief, obviously, a much needed side-effect in their line of work? And if he suggested it at the exact right moment when Bogumiła's judgement gets a little, shall we say, unhinged? She could end up getting in fwb with him. Yes, I know, I didn't expect it either.

(Gosh, I need to see Red, Pan and Neon's faces when they learn that Bogumiła Niepołomska is in fwb with Chase Trinaeste.)

They wouldn't be a perfect match. I can't see Chase falling romantically for Bogumiła or vice versa. They would end up separating sooner rather than later and their arrangement would hit quite a hitch when Red inevitably appears, but I think that they would have a mostly good influence on each other and they would come out of this wacky scenario as genuinely close friends. And Bogumiła could use more such friends. Bonus points for Chase possibly matchmaking between her and Red, once he realizes that they're actually both idiots.

Okay, back to a predictable match.

Juliander and Red? Have them do a $10.000 Shein haul together except it's all second hand books and they'll experience a platonic high they never knew existed. And then they'll experience a platonic low they never knew existed - once they realize that they encouraged each other to go in debt over books and don't have a penny to their names for the upcoming month. Thank goodness that the Order provides free food and shelter. Bogumiła is going to look SO (un)impressed by this.

They would make each other worse. Juliander's finances are already in shambles and I can assure you that with Red by his side they would be absolutely broke. Juliander spent his entire monthly salary on a single book and didn't consider himself scalped (I did, I cried while purchasing it). Red would assure him that he absolutely wasn't, in fact, it was a steal because the book in question turned out to be super rare or something (I don't care, I love you, Red, but this pixel money wasn't worth it). Books to this two are sad puppies left in the rain. You simply have to get them a good home and let's face it, when you say "a good home" you mean "your home" because who else will cherish this book so much as you do? They're incorrigible nerds. Red would ramble about his obsession of the day until his throat ran dry and Juliander would listen to him adoringly, and maybe even take notes. They would be mostly key words to look up in the library later because he's not on Red's level of nerdery, having been raised by Belnus Farplane, but they would be notes nonetheless. There would be absolutely NO checks and balances - Juliander is Red's brain's no. 1 fan and when I say that he would listen to whatever Red was rambling about with the utmost admiration and adoration, I MEAN IT. They're bad enough as friends, now imagine them without the insulation of their other friends, imagine them as lovers. I shudder.

They would be an absolute mess. Red cannot function without a dozen books strewn around him, while Juliander strikes me as a bit of a neat freak. I spoiled myself that Red's biggest turn on is MC being smart and while it works for Bogumiła who would react "Damn right I'm smart, let's make out", there's no way you would pull Juliander away like that from his research. Taking aside the fact that his research time is sacred and he's most likely in the zone, hearing an affirmation of his genius by Archmage Liefred Antiqua would up his research enthusiasm incredibly. "Wait, are you sure that I'm right? Aren't we forgetting something? Tlatou's Law, for example? Maybe we should ask someone for a second opinion? Maybe Bogumiła? Wait, I need to write it down!", while poor Red is peeling off his shirt like "Tlatou's Law doesn't apply here, Jul. I'm sure that's fine. Let's ask her tomorrow".

Let's all say thank you to Chase Trinaeste who had Juliander Strzygomski so in deep by Ch3 that Juliander had his eyes only for one person. And to Bogumiła Niepołomska who took upon herself the task of wrangling Red Antiqua (affectionate).

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Leonardo: You worry too much, Comte!

Le Comte: *Thinking about all those times stuff has gone incredibly wrong*

Le Comte: No I worry exactly the right amount--

[st-hedge]

Midna and link are bros without a single brain cell to rattle between them

[whatanoof]

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood, language, brief nudity. Later chapters will be M Warnings: Nah fam Summary: Local vampire finds out she can't kill soft human (because they're soulmates, baby), human becomes insufferable bastard, oops they fuck later. Soulmate AU where if one person gets injured, their soulmate feels the same amount of pain and receives a scar in the relevant area.

1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

It’s not that you had expected to survive this- being locked in the dungeon of Castle Dimitrescu, waiting for the day you’re picked to be someone’s meal. Oh no, you had given up on surviving long ago, it was just that… well, you had hoped that someone with a softer touch would do you in. But here you were, too exhausted to cry, hanging naked in front of none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her eyes were trailing you up and down, examining every inch of your skin, every flaw, every unique trait. It was like she was making a mental map of which parts of you would taste best. Goddamn, you wanted to spit in her face, or scream, or say something, anything that might make her feel even an ounce of what you had felt for weeks.

But you know that she’s already planning to kill you, and to make it painful. Why give her any more reason? Why dare her to find a worse way to end your life? There was no good answer, so you stayed still, just watched her move. Maybe if you looked bored enough she’d make it quick, just stab a knife in you and drink you up like a capri sun. Or, maybe, if you kept a straight face, she would admire your courage. Oh, how you longed for people to think of you kindly now, in your last moments, when dying clean and pretty was no longer an option.

Pulling a blade from some hidden sheathe, Cassandra approaches you with a wicked grin. There’s still blood on her lips from her last victim. Had they not sated her? Or had she been like this for some time? When she inevitably drank from you, how long would your blood remain on her lips? You weren’t sure that you wanted to know. In your mind, you picture her cleaning up as soon as she was done with you. It does not make you feel any better. Neither does the way she traces a finger across your chest, left to right, practicing for the incision to follow. She pauses to lick her lips, making direct eye contact as she does.

What happens next passes by so quickly that you don’t process any of it until the whole ordeal is over. The blade’s tip digs into your chest, just below your collarbone, before dragging along half the width of your torso. It hurts like hell, but you manage to keep your misery to yourself. But your pain is soon replaced with confusion; Cassandra screams, loud enough to echo throughout the basement, doubling over herself. In an instant her knife has clattered to the floor, forgotten. Instinct takes over your brain, the default programing kicking in, and you say something that fills you with instant regret.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a bit quiet, and raw, worn out from lack of hydration. But it is enough, evidently, for Cassandra to hear. She’s rising back up and glaring at you, one hand clutching her chest. Something in her expression tells you that she thinks you’re mocking her. While that wasn’t technically the case, there was a part of you that found joy in this, watching your captor get a taste of their own medicine. The question left in your mind was why she was in pain. “I’ll take that as a no,” you said, again left with regret at your choices.

Now her hand is swiping at your face, nails cutting you open. Once more she hisses in pain, now clutching her head, shaking a little as she does. When she meets your gaze, you see that she’s more confused than anything. More than that, you see the marks on her face, knowing instantly that they match your own. Oh hell no, you thought, grimacing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Cassandra growled through clenched teeth. Bouncing back and forth on her heels, she seems tense, unsure of how to process what’s happening. You feel the same way, desperately wanting to pretend that this doesn’t mean you’re her soulmate. Maybe the universe had just messed up, crossing some wires, or decided to pull a prank on the two of you. Either way it was better than the alternative. Eager to think about something else, you start considering your options. The first that comes to mind is ridiculous. Stupid, really. But would it amuse you? Absolutely.

“Not gonna lie, I feel better about the idea of you killing me now. Feel free to make it painful, darlin’, I won’t mind,” you snarked, lips curling up into a smirk. Oh boy was it satisfying to watch Cassandra’s response. One of her hands raises to smack you, only for her to freeze before releasing a torrent of swears. Hurting you meant hurting herself. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little aching? Haven’t you ever imagined what it’s like to be on the other side of things? Under the blade yourself, blood soaking your skin, eyes too dry for even a single tear? Poor thing,” you purred, tone as teasing as it could get. Apparently it’s aggravating enough for Cassandra to fight through the pain, as she slams her fist into your stomach, leaving both of you gasping for breath. “This is fun-” you pause to cough out a few drops of blood- “really, really fun. Hey, if you kill me, how bad do you think you’ll feel?”

Before Cassandra can react, either to speak or hurt you worse, the sound of approaching footsteps draws her attention. From where you hang you can’t see much, too many cells and hanging bodies blocking your vision. But your “soulmate” seemed to know who was coming. Her face scrunches up a little, and she adjusts her robes, trying to cover the mark on her chest. Had you not still been coughing, you would have sarcastically asked her how she intended to hide her face.

“What the hell is going on, Cassandra?” An unfamiliar voice asked. The footsteps grew louder, and faster, until the new figure stood in the same cell as you. Not even bothering to spare you a glance, she approaches Cassandra, reaching to examine her face. “Did a prisoner manage to get you? I’ve told you a thousand times-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, sis,” Cassandra snapped, pushing away her sister’s hand. Both of them are visibly tense, and for a moment they stand still, staring each other down. Then the sister (who you assume to be Bela, from things you’ve overheard recently) shifts her focus to you. Something tells you that she has no intentions of being gentle.

“Did you do this, you rotten little thing?” Bela questioned, glaring at you hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to have some more fun.

“Oh, of course I did! I rattled my chains real good, scared the shit out of her, made her fall on her own knife a few times. You know, like that one musical?” You must look insane as you speak, grin wide but face dripping with blood. If it unnerves Bela, she hides it well, though you doubt it does. As soon as you’re done poking fun she’s pulling out her sickle. Still grinning, you make eye contact with Cassandra, who realizes what’s happening a second too late. Then the two of you cry out in unison, as the blade carves into your shoulder. Instantly Bela pulls back, stunned, turning to her sister with genuine concern. “I might have lied. Rest assured though, it was for comedic purposes.”

The next thing you know the two sisters are shuffling away from you, Cassandra begrudgingly being dragged along by Bela. Though the younger of the two had been adamant about not receiving help, she now had little choice in the matter, skin searing from your blood bond. Even you are starting to breathe harder than you’d like.

“Was it something I said?” You barked, barely able to manage a fit of giggles between your coughing. Bela shoots you a glare over her shoulder, but quickly returns her attention to her sister. They talk, quickly, soft enough that you can only make out a few words here and there. It’s hard to make meaning from it, especially considering their vastly different tones. Cassandra is pure anger, gestures fast and wide, while Bela is oddly solemn, even regretful. When you finally catch a couple full sentences, things start to make a little more sense, though you wish they didn’t.

“We can kill them painlessly, in their sleep. That way you won’t have to suffer,” Bela whispered. She’s doing her best to comfort her sister, despite the tension in the room, gently patting her on the back. Briefly, you make eye contact with her. In that moment she looks equal parts executor and unwilling jury. But she looks away quickly, even shifting her angle to prevent it from happening again.

“No, fuck that, fuck this, I’m… I’m not killing them. Nobody is,” Cassandra growled, daring to emphasize her point by pushing Bela away. Now it’s her turn to look at you, brows furrowed, eyes betraying something more than just anger. Somehow it’s a million times worse than when she first came in. You strain yourself trying to look away, cursing the chains keeping you in place, resorting to closing your eyes and pretending none of this was real. “I don’t care what you think, Bela. They’re already my ‘meal’, might as well get what enjoyment out of this that I can.”

Again, footsteps echo through the basement. Tension locks your muscles in place, and your eyes are still clamped shut, to the point that you don’t realize your chains are being undone until you’ve hit the ground. Cursing under your breath, you finally open your eyes again. There’s blood on the floor, only some of it yours, and you’re suddenly aching for a bath. More than that, though, you’re praying for something to cover yourself with. Certainly Cassandra didn’t need to see everything, now that you weren’t a piece of meat for her to enjoy? As if reading your mind, the middle Dimitrescu daughter flings open a nearby cabinet, messily searching for something. Eventually she gives a hum of approval, then tosses a blanket in your direction.

“Put it on, dipshit, then follow me,” she snapped, already walking away. For a moment you’re tempted to stay there, sitting still, waiting to see how long it would take for her to notice. But one look from Bela sends the thought back to whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of. So you’re moving, hastily, awkwardly wrapped in a somewhat itchy blanket. Other prisoners eye you as you pass, some shouting curses or even spitting at you. At first Cassandra takes no notice, or simply doesn’t care, but eventually the noise seems to irritate her. Turning back, she takes her sickle in hand and slams the handle into the bars of a cell. It’s loud, making you flinch, but gets everyone’s attention. “Next one to make a peep gets the blood eagle!”

“Is that, like, a sex thing?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. Laughter rings out around you from the few prisoners capable of it. Cassandra is seething again, looking about ready to kill you. Then she’s shifting into swarm mode, spreading out wide, insects barreling through half the occupied cells. A few cries escape the prisoners, as the flies take bites out of them, cutting a perfect balance between pain and (a lack of) lethality. They’d be suffering for days to come, every movement making their wounds ache. “Not a sex thing, got it,” you muttered to yourself, just as Cassandra reforms in front of you. This time she grabs the blanket you’re wrapped in, using it to tug you forward, sending you towards the exit.

“Shut up for five minutes and I might let you put on actual clothes,” she growled, keeping one hand on your back to guide you. The offer is the closest thing to kindness you’ve seen from her, and you have half a mind to do what she says. Would you actually manage to keep quiet for that long? Well, you were certainly looking forward to finding out...

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol.6 Sakamaki Laito [TRACK 2]

Original title: 歪み

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 6 Sakamaki Laito

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke

Translator’s note: I do like how they make the direct connection between the MC’s heart and Cordelia here. While in some of the other CDs, her special heart was obviously a factor as well, but there were never any direct references to Cordelia. Of course, Laito has the most ‘history’ with her, so it makes sense they would make it a focal point of his story.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 2: DISTORTION

The scene starts with Laito taking a shower.

*Pshhhhhh*

[00:12] ( Bitch-chan’s behavior from the other night was...strange. She kept on getting the chills down in the underground waterway, then when I took her to the bathroom to warm up, she suddenly started suffering instead. I’ve never seen her like this before. Her blood tasted different from usual as well. There was something just slightly off about it. Like taking a bite out of a ripe fruit right before it begins to rot. It’s the first time the flavor has changed in this way. This might just not be...your regular old cold. (1) )

[01:00] ...Aha~! Nah, there’s just no way! Bitch-chan’s body has never been ‘normal’ to begin with. She has that woman’s heart inside of her after all! Exactly! She’s special in more than one way. These kinds of oddities are bound to happen. No need to worry about it~! Not about a single thing...Right?

*TIMESKIP*

*Ding・dongー Ding・dongー*

Laito enters the infirmary.

*Rattle*

[01:50] “...Oh~? So you’ve been at the nurse’s office this whole time! Could you be skipping class, perhaps? That’s not something you do every day, is it?”

You explain.

“...Medicine? Hmー What kind of medicine?”

You answer.

“Supplements, huh? Don’t tell me...For you?”

You nod.

[02:24] “Ahaha~ No way! Are you trying to annoy me, perhaps? You’ve become quite cunning, it seems!”

You frown, tilting your head to the side. 

“Eh? You don’t get what I’m trying to say? ...Really?”

You shake your head. 

“I mean, if you take some kind of drug, it’ll ruin the taste of your delicious blood! Are you going to take them regardless?”

You nod.

[03:04] “Huuuh~? Don’t you love me, Bitch-chan?”

You insist that you do love him.

“Then you know what to do, don’t you?”

You hesitate.

“You do, right?”

You look away.

[03:26] “I see. You don’t, huh? Fine. I’ll do it in your place then. Come on, give me the medicine.”

“Hand it over. ーー Quickly.”

He snatches it from your hands and goes to throw it in the trash bin.

*Thud*

[03:52] “...Who knows what will happen to you if you take some weird pills right now…This isn’t a joke after all. ーー Junk goes into the trash bin! What a relief~! ...Listen carefully. I don’t want to have to drink blood which tastes of some kind of drug. Remember that, okay?”

You frown.

[04:18] “Why are you giving me that look? I’m saying all of this for your sake, you know? Don’t you think it’s strange to rely on some medicine when I’m here for you? You really are such an airhead. ーー Or is there something you want to tell me, perhaps? Then fess up already. I’m willing to listen. Come on, hurry.”

You mutter.

“...Say that one more time? Whose sake are you doing this for?”

You repeat yourself.

[05:06] “Oh dear~? Did you say my name just now? Twice, even! When did I ask for you to do this, exactly? I can’t seem to recall~? Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself right now, using me to justify your own behavior like that?”

You apologize and correct yourself. 

[05:31] “Nfu~ I’m glad! You seem to have some brain cells left in that head of yours at least! (2) Well then, shall we go home? We can head straight back to the manor today so you can rest up, okay, Bitch-chan?”

The two of you leave the infirmary.

*TIMESKIP*

*Rustle*

[06:08] “You just did it again, huh? Lately you’ve been clutching your chest every now and then. How have you actually been? Your health, I mean.”

You explain.

[06:23] “That’s where your heart is, right? I wonder if that woman is up to no good again? She’s always been the type of person who would come up with some sort of scheme if you gave her an opening. If she’s acting up again, I’m sure it’d be exhausting for you as well...and could cause discomfort as well, don’t you think?”

You admit to not having thought of that possibility yet.

[06:45] “Shouldn’t that be the first thing to come to mind? Your heart isn’t normal after all. If she’s the one behind this, you would only be wasting your time and energy by trying to fix it yourself. You have no other choice but to wait and see.”

You frown.

[07:07] “Anyway, why don’t you hit the hay early tonight? I won’t drink your blood either. I’m such a gentleman, aren’t I? Nfu~”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) More specifically, he says that it might not be a simple case of the S/O feeling under the weather.

(2) 分別 or ‘funbetsu’ can mean various things from ‘good sense’ to ‘good judgement’ or even ‘wisdom’. In this case, I assume Laito means that she at least knew how to adjust her answer rather than upsetting him further.

[pascalpanic]

F*ck Around and Find Out (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Sequel to Fooled Around and Fell In Love

Summary: Your former fling and now boyfriend, Javier Peña, had a shitty day. Instead of soft comfort like last time, you go for something a little rougher.

W/C: <3k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral sex (m receiving), handcuffs, bottom!javi if you squint, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it babes), creampie, also lots of language but that’s a minor concern here lol

A/N: Well, I fucked around and found out. and it led me to this.

This is a sequel to Fooled Around and Fell In Love (linked here and above), but you can definitely read it as a standalone too!

Javi had another shitty day. Working for the DEA is a fucking grind, to say the very least. His weeks normally consist of at least one shitty day, but this one takes the cake for the entire month. 

He could’ve really used your calming touch, a kiss on the side of the face, something just to ground him, but you were busy. No matter how hard it was for him, Javier would not admit defeat. He would not ask for the tenderness he knew you’d so eagerly give, he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. So he didn’t, he took his anger out as he furiously wrote a report on the typewriter, smoked half a pack more than normal, and drank at least two pots of coffee from the break room. 

When the day ends, the clock striking 5:30, he pulls on his jacket with no hesitation. “Where the fuck are you going?” Steve asks as Javier shoves his shit in his briefcase. 

“Home, Murphy,” he snaps. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I strangle Stechner until that balding head pops,” he grimaces. 

Steve’s eyes widen. “Well. Get some rest, maybe get laid. Get that shit outta your system.”

“Don’t you fucking talk about my girl like that,” he threatens.

Steve raises his hands in defense. “Just… saying that you need something to get that anger out. Have a good night, Javi,” he says and gets up from his chair, going god knows where. Javier couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried. 

Javier then proceeds to drive over to your apartment. He pulls out his brick of a sat-phone in the car and calls yours. You pick up after a few seconds. “Hello?”

“Hey dulzura,” Javier says with a sigh. 

“Hi, where are you? You could’ve just found me,” you chuckle, crossing your legs. You’re sitting on the edge of your desk, where Javier could’ve easily known you’d be if he had a single brain cell left that wasn’t being roasted by his hotheadedness. 

“I’m headed home- well, to your apartment. If I spent one more fucking minute in that place…” he trails off, anger fading to exhaustion. “And I just want to spend some time with you. Maybe slow dance in the kitchen again.”

You smile, hugging your free arm tight around yourself. “Of course, babe. You can get comfortable in my apartment, have a drink or something. I’m gonna be about an hour or so before I’m home. Fuckin’ Limón left a paper trail in Medellín and we’re trying to wrap it up.”

He sighs. He’s already waited this long, but he doesn’t know how to ask. He doesn’t know if he can ask, if he can tell you that he needs your love right now or he might burst. “Okay,” he says, nodding. 

His voice is so tired. So sad. You pout a little, looking over at your own cluttered desk. “Or… I suppose Limón can wait until the morning. He’s not going to do something crazy overnight, right?” You chuckle. 

There’s a small smile on Javi’s face now. “If he does, I will personally take over whatever you’re doing.”

You smile at the words. “Maybe I want him to do something crazy now,” you tease for a moment. “Well, I’ll head home now. Meet you at my place in a bit. I love you,” you tell him honestly. 

“Love you too, baby. See you in a bit,” he says and hangs up. He lets out a deep sigh at the relief of your voice, of the way just talking for you with less than a minute can take all of his stress away. 

He parks outside of your place, unlocking the door with the spare key you gave him. He sets his briefcase on your kitchen table. He finds a bottle of wine in your refrigerator and pours two glasses, sipping one and setting the other down for you.

Javier looks around your apartment, smiling softly. There’s a photo of the two of you on the end table by your sofa. It’s a shitty print of the two of you smiling into the disposable camera, faces washed out by the flash. Javier picks it up and chuckles. You’re grinning ear to ear, exposing your teeth and pressing your cheek to Javi’s. He may not show it, but he feels the same, although his smile is significantly smaller than yours. Closed lipped. His brown eyes show the weight of his joy. 

He sits on the couch and watches the TV with half of his attention. His anger from the day sinks back in, making him forcefully breathe slow to remain calm. She’ll be home soon, he reminds himself. She’ll kiss your skin and wrap her arms around you and tell you how much she loves you. You know she will. 

But Javier can’t wait. He gets up, pacing around the apartment. It’s only a short drive from the embassy to your place, but you probably had to put away some files and shit. He’s in the middle of his third lap from the kitchen to the living room when the doorknob rattles. 

He opens the door and sees your smile, and he wastes absolutely no time in cupping your face and kissing you deeply. You giggle at first, taken aback, before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing back. You walk him backwards into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind you and slipping off your heels. “Bad day, huh?” You ask between kisses as the two of you meander to your couch. 

He breathes out a confirmation and you frown softly. “We better fix that,” you tell him, pressing your forehead to his. 

“I think we’d better,” he nods and kisses you again hungrily. Hard. Desperate, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. 

You break away as you reach the couch, sitting next to him and pulling him down with you. “Can I take care of you tonight?” You ask him, running a hand through his tobacco-brown waves.

He frowns a little. “What do you mean take care of me?” He asks, his head tilting to the side with his confusion. 

You smile. “Treat you right. Mainly in bed, that was kind of my plan,” you chuckle. 

“Oh really? Is that what you had in mind?”

You nod and press a soft kiss to his face. “You deserve it. Let me take the lead for once,” you mumble, kissing his jaw and his neck. “If you’ll be good for me.”

“What happens if I’m bad?” He mumbles, his head tilting to the side. He pulls you onto his lap, angling his head so you have better access. 

“Why don’t you fuck around and find out, hm?” You ask teasingly, nipping at his skin. He gasps in surprise and smirks. 

“Do your worst, baby girl,” he murmurs, and you kiss him again desperately. 

Your lips cling to his, arms pulling him as close as you can get. You don’t care that you’re still in your work clothing, you straddle him and palm him through his jeans. He groans and you push your tongue against his, moaning softly. 

The two of you stay like that for a little bit, your hand palming Javier’s hardening dick in time with your lips against his. He’s straining against his jeans, bucking into your hand when you pull away. 

You get off of him and stand, hands on your waist. You examine his belt, searching for one of the tools you know you can always find there. He’s about to ask if you need help unbuckling it, like the sarcastic asshole he is, before you lean down and grab the handcuffs with a grin. “I told you, I’m gonna take real good care of you. Now let’s head to bed,” you tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

He’s stunned, really. He’s never been anything but dominant in bed, always taking the lead, always putting in the heavy efforts. Even when you ride him, he’s the one thrusting up into you. But you jingle the handcuffs in front of you while you walk him to your room, and he thinks he’s already seeing stars.

“Fuck,” you sigh as you walk into your room and Javier squeezes your ass. You turn around, stripping your blazer and unbuttoning your shirt. “Take off your clothes,” you order him.

Javier obeys, smirking. “I think I kinda like it when you boss me around,” he teases, eyes widening in lust as he sees the curve of your breasts when your shirt falls to the floor. 

“Then you’re going to have a very good night,” you assure him teasingly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Is this okay? I know normally you’re the one doing this.”

“This is fucking perfect,” Javi laughs as he pushes down his jeans and then his boxers. “I’m excited to see what you have in mind. You know I’m down to try anything once.”

“You ever been handcuffed?” You ask, holding them up now that you’re in just your bra and panties- unintentionally matching today, a dark silky black. 

“No,” he admits. 

You raise an eyebrow. “I kind of expected someone like you would’ve, Peña,” you tease, pushing him down onto the bed. “Hands above your head. Got it?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he mutters out breathlessly, putting his hands against your headboard. He positions himself readily for you, already rock hard and ready for you to do whatever the fuck you want. 

You smirk at the sight, tracing your fingertips over the line where your bra meets the flesh of your tits. “And you don’t get to touch tonight,” you tell him with a smirk, “but I promise it’ll be all about you.”

He smirks too. “Get over here so I can kiss you, at least,” he asks, and you nod, straddling him and bending down to kiss him where he lays, flat on his back. You grind your panty-covered slit across his dick, and he shudders as he can feel your wetness through the cloth. “Baby,” he mumbles. 

You pull away and look down at him, hands tracing over his body. “You’re so fucking hot, Javi,” you chuckle, fingers splayed out against his abs. “I am so lucky that I get this whenever I want it.”

“Whenever,” he nods in agreement, sitting up and kissing you again softly. 

“And I have never been one to take what I have for granted,” you murmur as you press him back down into the bed and kiss at his collarbones, his pecs, his abs and stomach and down to his hips. You leave soft marks across his skin, tasting every inch of it. “So fucking hot, Javi. God, you make me so wet whenever I even think about this.”

“Missed you today,” he breathes out as you slowly pump his dick, twisting your hand around him. “Needed you. Some love.”

“Yeah? You could’ve come and got me,” you chuckle, pressing kisses around the base of his dick. “Asked me.”

“Didn’t know how,” he admits breathlessly, grunting as you lick around the base slowly. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You pout up at him, stopping for a second. “You can always come get me, baby. You know that.”

He nods. “Doesn’t matter now. Just… oh fuck,” he shudders as you take the tip in your mouth, shivering at the sound he makes. “So good, Goddamn.”

He won’t last long at all tonight, but that’s fine by you. Tonight, you intend to get your pleasure through his, to put him first and treat him to a night of relaxation. Your hand pumps the base of his dick slowly, making him cry out and tug against the restraints of his hands, as your other hand pulls off your panties. 

“Javi,” you murmur with a devious smirk. “Good boys don’t tug.”

Even when you’re the one in control, Javier still holds the power. He can still make you do whatever he says. “Good girls don’t tease,” he flirts right back and it goes straight to the pooling heat between your legs. 

“I’m the one in control here,” you remind him, even though it’s weak. You both know it’s Javier pulling the strings. You rub his thigh softly. “Just relax for me, baby. Let me take the lead, just let it all go. I’ll take care of you like you take care of me.”

His thick adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I’d relax better if you were riding my dick.”

“God, Javi, you’re so impatient,” you whine and look up at him. “I was getting there.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “Take your time then. I’ve got nowhere to go,” he shrugs, clanking his handcuffs around as a reminder that it’s not only a joke but literal.

You shoot him a glare and he gives an apologetic little smile that makes you giggle. “God, have I mentioned how much more I like you when you admit you love me? You’re not so intense in bed, even though you still can be. You can even be… cute.”

“I am not cute, dulzura,” Javier frowns.

“Yes you are! Look at that cute-ass pout you’re giving me,” you laugh. “You are adorable, Javi. Especially when you make those noises when I go down on you.” You take the tip in your mouth again, swirling your tongue around it.

Javier holds back the noises, now trying to prove a point. He’s nearly silent for the next few moments as you work him just the way he likes it with your mouth. You pout and pull away. “Will you let me hear those noises again if I get on your dick?”

Javier’s panting but he smiles and nods. “Maybe I’ll even listen to you and relax.”

You grin and bring your lips to his, kissing him deeply. “I think you will, because I have a surprise,” you murmur.

“I thought the cuffs were the surprise.”

“Just one part of it… I want you to cum inside me tonight. Raw.”

Javier’s breath catches in this throat. “Fuck, you’re sure?” He asks, desperate to touch your sides and grope your breasts in that gorgeous black bra. 

You nod. “I’m protected and clean.”

He nods back. “I am too, now please, baby-” You waste no time and sink your hips down over his, shuddering at how good it feels. “Javi,” you whine as you push all the way down, his thick cock bottoming out inside of you.

Javier’s already on the verge. “Fuck,” he grunts, biting down on his lip. Your hands rest flat on his chest, pushing him down into the bed. He can’t roll his hips up into you, can’t try to control the movement. It’s all on you. “Please, cariño,” and he’s already whining for you. Needy, desperate.

“Yeah baby? What do you want?” You ask flirtatiously, hovering your breasts in front of his face. Your hips wiggle teasingly on his, making him groan from the friction.

He pulls his head up to bury his face in your cleavage, tracing his tongue around the warm flesh of your tits. “Take it off for me. Please, baby.”

“No,” you say forcefully and lift all the way off of him, leaving you feeling achingly empty inside. “I’ll stop like this if you don’t behave.”

“I’ll do anything, dulzura,” he nods, hooking a leg around yours. “Please, just-”

“Good,” you practically purr as you line yourself up on him and sink down, moaning. “God, you’re so thick. Feel so good inside me Javi.”

He throws his head back into the pillow, your incessant teasing making his dick ache with tension. “If you keep fucking edging me, I’m gonna die,” he chuckles.

“Oh baby, this isn’t even real edging,” you murmur into his ear. You finally give in, putting your hands over his on the headboard, bouncing up and down on him. You kiss around his neck, working soft marks into places the shirt can cover tomorrow. “How does it feel?”

“So good,” he groans. “You feel so good on top of me, get me so deep inside of you,” he shudders, hips wiggling a little but stopping the motion as it makes you slow your pace.

“You’re a quick learner,” you mumble as you lick a hot stripe behind his ear. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods frantically, shuddering. “Please?”

He said please. Javier fucking Peña just asked you for permission to orgasm. You could get used to this. “Yes, come on baby, cum inside me,” you tell him and he follows your command. He thrusts up into you once, desperately, and the friction leads him to spill his hot seed inside of you. 

You whimper at the feeling, biting your lip. “Good job,” you mumble as you work him through it. It’s pure bliss for him, the feeling of your walls clenching around his bare dick and your slick soaking the hot skin there.

As he’s done, you slow down and roll off of him, grabbing the key to the handcuffs from the nightstand and unlocking the cuffs. His hands immediately find their way to your sides and pull you on top of him, kissing you hard. “That was so good, baby.”

“I thought so too,” you chuckle. “Maybe next time you can stop being such a stubborn bastard and give in for me.”

He nods. “I do like that. Although, I won’t lie, I like destroying you more,” he teases, fingers tracing down to the aching clit that never got an orgasm tonight. His own cum mixes with the wetness dripping from you in anticipation. “Mm, you need to cum, don’t you?” he groans and bites his lip. “Let’s fix that, baby.”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @dreamingindigital @theteddylupinexperience​

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Fourteen

We’re here. The final chapter. Y’all. I’m gonna cry.

@lumosinlove thanks for these characters!!

@donttouchmycarrots thanks for being my partner in crime during this whole mess of a story <3

And thank you, lovely readers!! For sticking with me for this crazy rollercoaster of a story, for encouraging me when I felt like quitting, and for always being so, so wonderful. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.

CW: prison, food, anxiety

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The drive back was silent, punctuated sharply by the two empty seats in the van. It was something they should’ve seen coming, but yet were completely blindsided by. Sirius had been on their side for so long now, it seemed odd to picture him anywhere else. It was like he’d been there for years already, fitting in seamlessly and making friends fast, filling a gap that hadn’t been obvious before but felt like a chasm now. He belonged in Gryffindor with them. And Regulus, while more reserved and distant than his brother, didn’t seem to deserve the fate he’d found. The main motive that kickstarted this whole mission had been him – all for him – and he still couldn’t avoid being dragged down with the Snakes.

Remus was on the phone with a contact from the FBI – he had been since they’d taken Sirius away – trying his hardest to find any loopholes he could. He was… actually strangely calm. Methodically tackling one idea after the next, his analytic brain working overtime. Logan could understand, though. Being productive was helpful. It was when things settled down and got quiet, when all you could do was sit there and wait…

That was when things got tough.

His leg bounced up and down in anticipation the closer they got to the cabin, his one-track mind stuck on one thing and one thing only – getting a blond safe-cracker into his arms again. Not having Leo with them had been like missing a limb, making everything feel out of balance. And even thought he was safe, he was still too far away. Logan couldn’t stand it.

Finn reached over and placed a hand on Logan’s with a knowing smile. He was ready to be home, too.

Gravel crunching under their tires only fueled the eagerness. There were lights still on in the cabin, a warm, inviting pull. The front door was open before the cars had pulled to a complete stop, revealing Leo and Hope and Lyall. Julian was presumably asleep, given the hour. Logan’s seatbelt was thrown off and the door closest to him was yanked open, Finn hot on his heels.

Leo bounded down the steps of the porch and flung himself at the two of them, finding every inch of space between them and filling it, a soft sound escaping from his lips as he held on tight in a one-armed grip. Logan and Finn both stumbled back a few steps at the impact but quickly returned the embrace, Logan’s face buried in the junction between neck and shoulder and Finn’s forehead pressed against the blond’s. They seemed to take their next breaths in tandem, slow and steady, as they leaned into each other. Time slowed, everything in the periphery faded, and the world, previously off-kilter, evened out in equilibrium.

Finn suddenly realized he felt the coarse, scratchy texture of Leo’s sling pressed up against him and pulled back a little. “Careful, baby.”

That made Leo pull back. “Why?” He glanced over them nervously. “Are you hurt?”

Logan sighed long-sufferingly and cupped Leo’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes with a fond expression that belied his exasperation. “No, but you are,” he moved his hands to smush Leo’s cheeks, causing Finn to laugh, “so take it easy.”

Leo smiled – a real one this time, not one of the fake ones he’d given them before they left – and relaxed. After a quick kiss from Logan he asked, “So it went well? Mission’s done?”

Logan and Finn both froze at that. Finn looked over to Remus, who was still on the phone (like he had been for the past hour at least) and frowned.

“Not quite.”

“We can talk inside,” Leo said, looking worried again. “there’s lots of food for y’all.”

He wasn’t wrong. Food covered pretty much every open surface of the countertops, ranging from pancakes to grilled cheese to the cinnamon swirl muffins Leo brought to their first briefing all those months ago. Finn smiled at the memories and instantly snagged one on their way to the kitchen table. His eyes landed on Talker, who was explaining something to Hope as she took a look at his leg. Nat, Kasey, and Alex were piled onto one couch, looking tired and each with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. He could see Remus on the porch every once in a while when he passed by a window as he paced, phone pressed to his ear.

It didn’t bode well.

Logan sat down with a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and started telling the story, voice a quiet murmur and only interrupted when he shoveled food into his mouth. Finn wondered how none of them had really seen this coming. In hindsight, it made sense that there would need to be a trial – after all, Sirius and his brother weren’t innocent. Finn wasn’t sure what happened next, though. Criminal trials and sentencing weren’t part of the job for them. He hoped they could get the brothers out of this mess, though. If anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Remus.

At least the Snakes were done for. The information on the flash drives was enough to lock them away for a very, very long time.

He took a bite of his muffin, no longer really hungry, and listened to Logan talk.

***

Remus sat down on the porch swing, tired and stressed and not at all ready to quit. He listened to Alice, his only contact in the FBI, rattle off some statistics that he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he wasn’t trying to be rude – that really wasn’t his intent – but he needed to act quickly about this. So he grimaced and cut her off. “Can we get them placed in another prison? Or even in solitary until we can figure something out? If the Snakes can get to them…”

Well. Remus didn’t think they’d show much mercy to the two people mainly responsible for putting them in jail.

Alice sighed, the sound of her rummaging around in her desk filtering through the phone. “We can try. Since they did help you guys, we should be able to swing it. If something jeopardizes their lives, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Remus’ heart twisted – a deep, chronic ache under his ribcage that refused to let up. “Do it fast. I’m going to start reaching out to lawyers.”

“Lupin, it’s four in the morning.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. “Thanks for all the help, Alice.”

He hung up, then braced his forearms on his knees, hands gripping his hair, and breathed.

If there was one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was planning. It was his job, and a big part of the reason he’d switched from field work in the first place. He relied on structure to get through his days, needed the stability in order to function.

There was none of that.

This was being adrift at sea, constantly assaulted by the waves and the current without rescue in sight.

And Remus had no idea what to do.

His phone pinged, catching his attention. A text from Alice flashed across the screen.

I’ve got a friend who’s a lawyer, and she’s a damn good one. I know you’ll want to do your research on her yourself, but I can vouch for her too. Here’s her contact if you want to reach out.

The contact number and email were listed under the name Dorcas Meadowes.

***

Dorcas Meadowes was, to put it simply, awe-inspiring.

Black curls, a dark complexion, and a serious, no-funny-business expression on her face. Her office was neat and organized, a few pictures around the place of her and a blonde girl with a wide grin and freckles. There was a small pride flag on her desk. Without a word, she motioned for Remus to sit, cool and composed and ready to get to work.

That was all it took for Remus to instantly respect her.

“So I’ve heard some of the story from Alice, but I’ll need you to start at the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details, tell me everything.”

Remus did, settling into the chair and getting comfy. It was a long story, after all. When he was done he looked back up at Dorcas, whose face was expressionless except for a single, raised eyebrow.

“That’s…” she trailed off with a low whistle.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the good news is that, if we’ve got enough evidence to back your story up, we can reduce his sentence by a lot, maybe even get him released.”

Remus sagged back into the chair, relief taking over and wiping out the tension radiating through his muscles. “Great.”

He’d known, logically, that they’d be able to reduce his sentence. With all the work he put into taking the Snakes down, there was no way they’d give him a full sentence. But getting him out of there for good…

Remus had never wanted anything so much in his life.

Dorcas leaned forward, powering her laptop on. “We’ll go visit him in the next few days and tell him what’s going on, but first we need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

***

Sirius hated this.

He was bored, he was tired, and – more than anything – he was lonely.

In Gryffindor, he’d become so accustomed to always having at least someone with him at all times. It was usually Remus, but he’d also grown close to most of the team. And it was nice at the time – god, did he miss it. But it was painful now. He’d witnessed what his life could be like, happy and surrounded by friends and possibly in love, and now he was back to the way his life used to be. Alone and on the wrong side of the law.

He hadn’t seen Reg since they’d been escorted into isolation for their own safety. Which don’t get him wrong – he was grateful for it. Knowing Riddle, they wouldn’t have survived the night if they were all being held together. But it was too quiet now.

The door to his cell rattled and Sirius looked up sharply. A guard was standing there, unlocking his door and opening it.

“Come with me,” the guard said, sounding bored as he opened the door further and held out a pair of handcuffs. Sirius looked at him hesitantly, not moving an inch. The guard rolled his eyes. “You have visitors.”

Sirius perked up at that, the only thought running through his head being Remus. He knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He’d be fighting to get Sirius free, no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure who else would be visiting him, anyways – if someone was here, it was sure to be Remus.

So Sirius got up and held his wrists out to be cuffed, then watched as the officer pointed down the hall.

“This way.”

It took all the self-control Sirius had to not run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other until he finally reached his destination. The guard moved around him to open the door and then Sirius was moving again.

He spotted caramel curls as soon as the door opened to the visitation room and felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Remus.”

Worried brown eyes followed him as he crossed the room quickly to sit in front of him, separated by a thick wall of glass. The movies weren’t lying, apparently. But it was so good to see him that Sirius didn’t care.

Remus looked tired. Unfortunately, that didn’t surprise Sirius at all. He knew the tendency to overwork all too well at this point. More than anything, it made Sirius want to get out of there, to wrap him up in his arms and let him take a nap there, to make sure he was taking care of himself. He settled for giving him a stern look instead.

“You need to get some sleep.”

Sirius expected a sharp, witty retort. Some sass, a comeback of some kind. Instead, Remus did the unthinkable and just smiled. “I missed you.”

Sirius sighed, softening at the gentle admission. He’d missed Remus too, of course. More than he could really put into words, and it had barely been a day. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet, reassuring presence of him by Sirius’ side, those eyes that just seemed to see right through him and know even the things Sirius tried to keep hidden. He found he didn’t mind it too much - not when it was Remus.

“I missed you,” he echoed in agreement, refusing to look away until someone cleared their throat loudly. Sirius looked over to a woman sitting next to Remus, looking unimpressed. Sirius hadn’t even known she was there, as wrapped up in Remus as he was.

Remus, to Sirius’ endless delight, blushed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus blush before. It was cuter than it had any right to be. “Um, Sirius this is Dorcas. She’ll be representing you in court.”

Right.

He had to go on trial.

Dorcas took over from there. “We think, with the evidence we have, that we can get the charges reduced, maybe dropped if we’re lucky. If you can think of any evidence we don’t know about, we can use that to strengthen your case, too.”

Sirius nodded, relieved. That sounded better than he thought he’d get, to be honest. “What about Reg?” he asked, looking between the two.

Dorcas was very hard to read, Sirius realized. And Remus looked confident… until he looked over at the lawyer. Then his expression flickered.

And Sirius’ heart sank.

“That’s a bit trickier,” Dorcas stated slowly, treading carefully. “The thing is, he never tried to get out. He stayed with the Snakes. And I know it’s not easy to get out of situations like that,” she rushed to continue when she saw the look on Sirius’ face, “but the fact still stands. And he didn’t do as much to help take the Snakes down, not like you did. We can probably reduce his sentence, but he’ll be in prison longer than you. I don’t think we can fix that.”

Sirius felt himself being torn in two different directions. He wanted to be free, to be able to live his life again. Maybe make a home in Gryffindor (or maybe move in permanently with a certain spy), get a job as a consultant. He’d make sure the poor houseplant in Remus’ apartment survived, the poor thing, and he’d keep Remus’ favorite tea stocked in the cupboard. He’d be able to relax for – well, the first time in a very long time.

But his brother.

He was the main reason Sirius got out in the first place. The reason he ended up in Gryffindor, this entire mission was for him. To get him out, to make sure he was safe.

What was the point, if he was stuck in jail while Sirius got to walk free?

He could practically hear his brother telling him how stupid he was being in that dry voice of his, but he pushed the thought away. He’d made up his mind, and it was practically impossible to sway him when that happened.

Sweet, caramel eyes might test him, though.

Sirius looked up at Remus guiltily, dreading the response he was going to get. But yet again, Remus took him by surprise and smiled sadly.

“I understand.”

Those words hit Sirius like a freight train. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes stinging and throat getting tight. “I’m sorry.”

Remus just shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Sirius loved him.

Remus glanced over at a confused Dorcas. “He can’t leave his brother. Whatever sentence Reg gets, Sirius wants to do the same.”

She was silent for a long time, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then she sighed, seeming resolute. “Well then we’d better get those charges as low as we can.”

***

Four Weeks Later

.

Leo found Remus in the courthouse hallway during the trial recess before they were supposed to reconvene for the sentencing, looking seconds away from pacing from one side of the building to the other. The past few weeks had been hard on all of them. Between coming to terms with everything that had happened in the recent months, to trying to figure out the evidence they needed to bring forward to try and get the charges dropped against both Sirius and Regulus, to the strange feeling in the Agency brought forth by Sirius’ absence, it had been weird for all of them. Remus had been hit the hardest by all of it, though – and understandably so. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, though.

He’d been running himself to the bone the past four weeks, going above and beyond to make sure everything was in order for the trial. He looked ready to drop, if Leo was being honest.

But he understood. If it were Logan or Finn in Sirius’ place… well. He’d already figured out just how far he’d go for them.

He put a hand on Remus’ arm, trying to be as calming as possible. “You’re going to be ok,” he said carefully, choosing his words meticulously. He didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to get Remus’ hopes up only for them to be dashed.

Carmel eyes met his own, and Leo sighed at the stress he saw there. He looked tired – so tired.

“What do you need?” Leo asked quietly, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to help him, how to get that look off of his face.

Remus just laughed under his breath, a sad sound. “There’s a lot of things I need.” He shuffled on his feet, gathering his sleeves in his hands. “But a hug would be a good start.”

Not hesitating, Leo gathered him into a hug, the stretch pulling at the scar tissue in his shoulder that was finally free of a sling. Remus was tense and still for a while, then relaxed into it. Leo wished he could do more, wished he could make any sort of difference in this situation. But everything was so far out of their control now; the only thing left to do was wait.

“Whatever happens, we’re here for both of you. You’re not alone in this.”

Remus stepped away with a fake attempt at a smile. “Yeah.”

There was a visual cue that neither of them seemed to catch and people started filtering back into the courtroom, making Remus’ face grow paler and more pinched. Leo stuck by his side as they walked back inside, trying to ignore the soft sound Remus made when he saw Sirius again – all the way in the front, in a jumpsuit that looked too big for him, hair longer and eyes a little duller than they remembered, fidgeting with something in his cuffed hands. Regulus was next to him, head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Leo just stuck to Remus’ side as they squeezed into the row of chairs with the rest of the Agency, making sure Remus was right in the middle, surrounded by so many of the people who cared about him most. Finn and Logan sat down next to him with grim smiles.

Leo reached over to tangle his fingers with Finn’s, feeling him squeeze back gently. The bruises were completely gone from his face, and he was walking limp-free now. He dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder, having to angle his shoulders down to rest somewhat comfortably against the shorter man.

Leo would never get over the height difference.

“I’m taking a nap when we get home. This is so stressful, oh my god.” Finn sighed, making Leo smile.

Home.

That was still somewhat new for the three of them. After a few days back in their separate apartments in Gryffindor, they’d realized how incredibly codependent they’d become during their mission. Leo would find himself staring up at the ceiling most nights, worrying about the other two, until he’d get a phone call from one of them and they’d end up driving to each other and collapsing in bed together, squished together just like those hotel rooms they’d shared. And it had gotten to the point where there wasn’t any point living in different apartments when they ended up together most nights anyways, so Leo and Logan had packed up their things and moved in with Finn. He had the largest bed, anyways.

So yeah. They lived together now. And Leo was ridiculously pleased about it.

They were taking that vacation in a few weeks, too – the one Finn had first brought up in the back of a getaway car, tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Somewhere warm, just like he’d promised. He’d get to watch Logan tan and Finn turn red like a lobster, only to go straight back to pale. They’d get some time to relax and not stress about work – just themselves and the vast expanse of beach and water in front of them.

Leo couldn’t wait.

“We’ll take that nap together.” Logan answered Finn quietly, turning his head to meet Leo’s eyes as he pressed an affectionate kiss to Finn’s head. Leo smiled at him, the sense of one chapter ending and the next beginning washing over him.

Whatever came their way, they’d be ok. They’d proven that already.

The crowd hushed as the judge sat back down, face impassive.

“We have reviewed the evidence and testaments brought forward in defense of Sirius and Regulus Black.” He started, looking down at the two in question critically as everyone in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that they committed crimes while with the organization,” the judge stated firmly, then continued, “Regulus and Sirius Black are hereby sentenced to one year in prison.”

The gavel slammed.

Remus sat there in quiet disbelief.

They’d done… everything. They’d worked so hard for the past month in attempts to let Sirius and Regulus’ sentences reduced – and that was technically a reduced sentence – but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.

A year.

They hadn’t done enough.

Remus almost missed all the movement around him, too busy staring at the back of the seat directly in his line of vision, but his gaze snapped up when an achingly familiar voice called his name.

Sirius slowed to a stop as he passed Remus on his way out, eyes wide and frantic. Desperate. It broke Remus’ heart, more than it already was. “Wait for me?” He asked intently, like his sole focus was on Remus and his answer. He shoved his open palms out, revealing what he’d been fidgeting with during the entire trial. Remus looked down to find an origami flower, conveying all of Sirius’ hopes for the future within the delicate folds.

Remus wished more than anything that he could reach for him; to pull him in tight, hold him close, and refuse to let the guards take him away. He also had the half-formed plans of a jail break already in mind, even though he knew Sirius would never agree to it. It was then that his eyes locked with the gray ones he’d come to know better than his own and he knew – he knew that he’d wait, however long it took.

Remus loved him.

It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t sudden. In all honesty Remus had probably felt that way for a long time now, the truth prodding at the back of his head, nagging at his subconscious. He loved Sirius, plain and simple. Simple except for the fact that one of them was going to jail for a year. And yet, no matter how complicated it got, no matter how much time went by, it was the easiest decision Remus had ever made.

Well. If love made people crazy, Remus was certifiably insane.

He smiled a little tearfully at Sirius and nodded fiercely, picking up the paper flower delicately.

 “You know I will.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shy (one-shot)

Synopsys: She’s shy. He likes her. She likes him. But every time something gets between the ex-Winter Soldier and the cute lab rat that works with Stark. The team has had enough of the pining.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffffff

Warnings: swearing, as per usual, nothing else really. Just some cute lil fluff I wrote (also this is defo not my best work :D)

Word count: 3042

It was a seemingly ordinary day when the ex-Winter Soldier’s life changed forever.

        Bucky’d plopped down onto the sofa with a disgruntled sigh, making Steve smirk and divert his attention from the show on the TV to his friend.

        “You know, she likes you,” Steve said to Bucky as he sipped on his coffee giving him a side glance.

        Bucky just grumbled and crossed his arms, mind still reeling on the absolute failure that he had experienced earlier that day. It'd been a trainwreck of a mission. No lives lost, but he'd made an absolute fool of himself by making a few bad calls. “Who?”

        “Y/N.”

        “Yeah, as if,” he snorted. “I mean I know she likes me, but she likes everyone. There’s not a single mean bone in her body.”

        “No, I mean,” Steve huffed placing down the cup before he spilt some of it on himself, “she likes you. As in she might want to pursue a relationship with you.”

        Bucky was choking on his spit the second the word ‘relationship��� came out of his friend’s mouth. Y/N? Liked him? As in more than a friend? He’d be lying if he said that thought didn’t send him over the Moon, but it seemed like such a far reach, especially with the interactions they’d had, that he had to give Steve a glare, especially with how she didn’t even give a single sign she might be into him. 

       He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the expert on flirting and getting it on?”

        “Wow.” Steve put a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “That’s a low blow. I might’ve not had any game when I was skinny, but let me tell, you after the serum th-“

        “When was the last time you went on a date?” Bucky interrupted his rant.

        His friend broke the eye contact and paused, chewing on his bottom lip before deflecting. “Look that doesn’t matter.”

        Bucky rolled his eyes so much he feared they’d be permanently stuck like that.  

        “What matters is that she likes you, but she’s too shy to do anything about it,” Steve stated.

        “We had a pretty good conversation a couple of hours ago.” They did. If you take saying 'hello', an awkward wave and bashful smiles as a conversation, then yes, it was very successful.

        “Shy doesn’t always mean ‘incapable of holding a conversation’. Shy can mean not talking about how they’re feeling or how their day is because they think no one cares or would get annoyed with them,” Steve said looking over his mug.

        Bucky was baffled. “How – why – how could anyone think she’s annoying? She’s – she’s amazing!” But that’s when it hit him - Y/N never looked him in the eye, she always apologized for talking ‘too much’, and at any point in the conversation, she always diverted the attention away from her or her troubles.

        “So…” Bucky swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”

        Steve shrugged. “I think if you don’t, you’ll never know what it could lead to.”

        ***

        It was about an hour later after his enlightening chat with Steve that Bucky found himself walking towards where their resident lab rat usually stayed at when he heard muffled cursing.

        “Work, you absolute piece of shit!” Y/N exclaimed each word emphasized with a harsh hit against a machine’s side. “Top-notch technology my ass!”

        “Everything alright, doctor Y/L/N?” His voice was gruff as he interrupted her conversation with the computer. 

Not that Y/N would ever admit it, but usually just his presence alone set her body ablaze, but this time, it was a distraction and not a good one.

        “Just fucking peachy,” she grunted and slammed her hand against the computer with every uttered syllable.

        “Alright,” Bucky chuckled and entered the lab. “What did that poor computer do to you, since you seem so inclined to completely destroy it?”

        “For starters, it decided to shut down,” she growled at the computer, and if it was alive, it would hang its head in shame. “Then, when I rebooted it, the files were not lost, oh that I could live with, but they were corrupted. Meaning I do have them, but they’re useless, and that means I have to redo everything.”

        “You’d have to redo everything if the files were lost either way.” Bucky gave her a small smile, teasing the woman as she whined.

        “Yeah,” Y/N threw back her head. “But it wouldn’t be as humiliating. I mean, if they’re gone, they’re gone, but they aren’t!” She threw the screen a scowl. “The files are there, just sitting… and useless… just like me.”

        “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re useless." Bucky smirked at her, and she sighed.

        “Please, do tell what I’m of use here right now, right this moment.”

        “Company?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and that’s when Y/N realized how much she’d rattled on, how much of his precious world-saving time she’d taken up by a stupid mistake she made.

        “Sorry,” she muttered, shying away from Bucky’s gaze. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my crap.”

        “You don’t bore me. You could never.”

        He had that love-sick look on his face as she gave him a small smile, and her eyes dropped back to the ground. Not that Y/N ever noticed, but Sam never stopped teasing him about that fucking look. The one where his eyes glimmered like stars in the night sky, and his lips involuntarily lifted up in the corners. More than once Steve had to tell him to close his mouth or someone would slip on his drool. And each time, Bucky would slap his friend on the back of his head.

        “I’m not drooling,” he’d contest and go back to watching as Y/N moved around the lab, delicate fingers replacing whatever was fractured in his metal arm.

        “No, saliva just generally spills out of your mouth when she’s around.”

        Bucky would just grunt and say, ‘fuck off’. But he couldn’t help it really. 

        “Anyway." Y/N brought him out of the daydream. “Did you need anything? Is the arm acting up again?”

        Although she'd never think that Bucky had any feelings for her, there was some suspicion rising in her mind. Tony was the acting engineer, but on more than one occasion he had called her up and asked if she was available to take a look at Bucky's vibranium appendage.

        “Need some assistance, sweets,” the genius would mumble, and then when she would slip into work mode, he’d slyly exit the room and leave the two of them alone. And given how Tony knew, Y/N’s primary thing was chemistry and using the nanotech for cell regeneration, not engineering, it raised her suspicion level. Especially when the super-soldier came to her lab to have a check-up on days Tony was out specifically. 

        But she would never do anything about it. He could be standing at the altar with someone else in white walking towards him, and even then, Y/N, knowing it was her last chance, wouldn’t move a muscle to say what she felt. How could she when Bucky was the walking epitome of a Greek God while she tripped over her own feet while standing? For fuck’s sake, the man even fostered puppies in his spare time as if his day job wasn’t saving the world already how could her watching cells split in a petri dish match up to that?

        “Oh, uh,” he stammered fidgeting with his fingers. “No, I uh, actually came to ask you something. Nothing work or arm… related.”

        If Y/N’s heart wasn’t already beating out of her chest, she was pretty certain she’d vomit it up with the way he was looking at her. “Sure,” she whispered. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

        He twisted a ring on his flesh arm. She had gotten it for him two years ago during a game of ‘Secret Santa’, which Tony promptly had added her to the list. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside for being included, but then dread settled in. What the fuck do you get a bunch of superheroes that could afford literally anything they wanted? And then she’d pulled Bucky’s name from the tacky Santa’s hat.

        It wasn’t bad enough he was her crush, now she had to get him a gift he’d actually like, and she could barely hold a conversation with him that didn’t involve Avengers stuff. But from the looks of it, he had enjoyed the jewellery immensely, as any time he came over for whatever reason, he was wearing it. He liked it so much there was a lighter line of skin underneath the ring where the sun couldn’t get.

        But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Bucky just froze as Y/N stared at him with hopeful and inquisitive eyes. All the things he wanted to say and ask just vanished from his brain as if he’d been put back into that horrible machine that used to wipe his mind.

        “Buck?” Her voice was small as his mouth hung open like an idiot. But he didn’t even get a chance to collect himself when Bruce rushed in.

        “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Y/N I need you. There’s a problem with the cradle.”

        And that was her cue. With an apologetic smile, she pulled off her latex gloves and rushed out of the room, but not before leaning back in through the door. “Hopefully I should be done in two hours tops. Raincheck on that question?”

        Bucky shook his head. “You know what, it wasn’t that important anyway.”

        Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, hand reaching out to touch him, but he pushed past her and was gone, leaving the woman a bit stunned, and in all honesty - heartbroken.

***

        The rest of the day she spent in utter confusion, and Bucky in self-wallowing. Y/N couldn’t understand what had changed his mind so suddenly, what she’d done so wrong, and Bucky beat himself up the whole time about choking and running away. Which is why Steve was absolutely done with it.

        As Bucky sulked on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and the pop tarts he’d stolen from Thor’s stash, Steve with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Y/N in tow, all came into the room. 

        Seeing her lab coat swish behind her as she walked, Bucky slid down into the couch even more, as if the granite gray leather could absorb him and erase him from existence. God, how he wanted to be erased from existence. 

        “Hey, Y/N?” Tony drew everyone’s attention as he handed a coffee to her. “Would you mind taking a look at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s intercom system? She’s gotten a bit rusty here.”

        “Umm yeah.” She nodded, kinda confused as to why she'd have to do it, but Tony was her boss, so Y/N rarely asked him much. Unless something he said was absolutely dumb. “Mind getting me a ladder?”

        With a wink from Steve, Clint nodded. “Sure.”

        But instead of just him leaving, all of the Avengers slowly started to ‘disperse’ throughout the living-room, before bolting towards the hallway and telling the A.I. to shut everything down.

        “What’s going on?” Y/N asked looking around the common room, spotting the bright fiery hair of Natasha as she rushed out of the room, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to override the lock code and not let either of them out. “Why are the doors locked?”

        The smug smile she received from the assassin only infuriated Y/N more. “Tony!” she yelled through the glass, but the genius put hands over his ears and screamed back at her.

        “Not until he talks to you!”

        That’s when she felt someone towering over her from behind. 

Two beautiful Y/E/C eyes looked up at him as Y/N turned around, confusion swimming in her irises. Bucky almost swore he passed out just from that look alone. 

“Buck, what’s going on?"

        The second he’d seen the group walk in, he knew what was happening. He wanted to murder all of them. Rip them apart piece by piece, but not in front of Y/N. No. He’d do that in the middle of the night, blending into the shadows and delivering slow and painful deaths to all of the conspirators. 

        But at the same time, this was his chance. There was literally nowhere for either of them to run unless you counted jumping out through the window and the ninety-story drop, you’d face. Which seemed very appealing to him at that moment, but Steve’s words rang through his head – ‘You’ll never know what it could lead to.” And he hoped it would lead to something beautiful, so taking a deep breath, Bucky confessed.

        “Because I’m a coward…” he sighed, “and I can’t do it without someone telling me to.”

        “Why?”

        “I’m scared,” it came out as a whisper, and Y/N had to take a step back hurt flashing across her face thinking back to all of the times they’d spent together, while in truth Bucky’d been terrified of her.

        “Of me?”

        Instantly he shook his head seeing the pain on her features, and once more Bucky scolded himself. “No… of what your reaction might be.”

        “Buck, you know I would never judge you. You can always talk to me… about anything.”

        “Yes, but this will change things.”

        “How?”

        “I don’t know… that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to lose you.”

        “Never. You could tell me you’re hiding a body in the tub, and I would offer you my help to get rid of it.”

        And it was this firm statement that solidified his decision.

        “Would you maybe,” Bucky exhaled deeply not daring to turn and look at the team that was gawking at both of them like hawks pressed against the glass, the same team that had bolted shut every door and window to prevent either of theirs escapes, “would you maybe want to go out… with… me… on a date?”

        Y/N was stunned. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand went slack, and it would’ve smashed against the ground had Bucky not quickly stepped forward and caught it stepping to stand in front of her.

        “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, looking at the milk infused drink. It was a light beige colour with a white foamy swirl in the middle like a little vortex that was sucking him in. God did he hope it would pull him in and never let out after what he was going to say. “It’s just that… I really like you.” There. Now it was out there. “I really like you. And not the way a friend likes a friend. I like you in a way that I want to hold your hand when we walk out together. I want to buy you coffee in the mornings and wake you up with breakfast in the bed and smooth out the hair that’s fallen on your face…”

        She wasn’t breathing as with every single word said Bucky seemed to move closer. “I think I might be in love with you, Y/N…” his hand gently lifted and cupped her cheek.

        She just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, shallow breaths escaping into the air as her heart beat out of her chest in a manner, she thought it might hit Bucky directly in the stomach. 

        “Say something,” he pleaded, blue eyes searching for an answer in Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. “Please.”

        “I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back. And it wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same, not at all. In fact, when he had started his whole confession, she felt like she was about to pass out from all the love that invaded her body, but the thing is - Y/N has never been good with emotions. She never knew how to process them, how to give the correct answer and make people happy. She was shy, awkward and a recluse. And now she was supposed to come out of her safety shell. Which is why for the first time in her life, she expressed herself with her actions by leaning up, grasping onto the nape up Bucky’s neck and pulling their mouths together.

        When her lips touched his, Bucky knew there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to. He couldn’t help the giant smile that bloomed on his face, as he pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arm one around her waist, the other trailing up to settle between her shoulder blades, pushing their chests together, so impossibly close an ant couldn’t crawl between the two. 

        It became even more of a beautiful moment when Y/N’s own lips pulled up in a smile, breaking the kiss apart, but leaving them grinning and feeling dizzy from the happiness. 

        “Guess we needed a gentle nudge in the right direction,” Bucky gave out a small laugh, both palms securely resting on Y/N’s hips and bringing her closer.

        “I’d say it was more of a shove with a rifle at our backs,” she said, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders fingers skimming against his clavicles and making his breath stop halfway to his throat. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere… the two of us without a bunch of people watching our every move.” Her eyes flitted over to where the rest of the team stood behind the doors listening in on the two, and suddenly the heads of their teammates disappeared from the view, making Y/N and Bucky shake their heads.

        “Yeah,” he chuckled, squeezing her side. “That’s probably the best idea. You truly are a dream, aren’t ‘ya?”

        Y/N could only chuckle and hide her face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as her hold tightened around his middle, and he responded much the same by weaving his fingers in the hairs on the back of her neck and pulling her closer if that was even possible, burying his nose in the Y/H/C locks.

        “Don’t go all shy on me now.”

        “Can’t,” she mumbled back. “You make me turn into mush.”

        Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “A cute mush.”

        “Shut up!”

And he did by pulling her in for another searing kiss. God, how he loved his shy girl.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @strangersstranger​

A/N: have you ever hated your job so much so, that you can’t sleep, can’t eat and basically live in a well of anxiety? and not because of the work itself, but because of that ONE PERSON that makes it miserable? Cause I do. And I can’t wait to get away from it.

P.S. sorry for being so pessimistic, but it’s just a nightmare.

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :) P.S.S.S. if you wanna be added to a taglist, drop me a message :)

[celestialmango]

Unwilling prey, tw death(it's background characters), reader insert(you're a space mechanic), size difference, soft vore, safe vore, space pirate pred

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

The clack of footsteps against a grated metal floor is the first significant sound you've heard in the few days it's been since the transport ship you had been working on had taken to the stars and got caught in a battle between two galactic pirate ships, you remember both crews had boarded the transport, the sound of lazer fire, clashing blades, the sounds of panicked screams and smell of blood as innocent people were cut down while the two crews battled to claim the small starship.

The last thing you remember was someone chuckling as they smashed your head into on of the engine consoles you had previously been working on, you had taken cover behind it when the fighting began and your vision faded to black as they said words you couldn't really hear to someone else in the room, then you woke up here chained 8ft in the air in the middle of a cell by your arms, in the few days you were chained you were given very little food or water.

The footsteps stop in front of your cell and the door opens and too weak to lift your head or put up a fight you just hang there dull and almost lifeless, you hear the familiar voice of the person who knocked you out only your brain isn't rattled by an impact, you can understand them now as you hear them speak "There they are Cap'n, strung up all nice and pretty for ya." You hear clacking footsteps draw close and see boots follow by a tall body enter your vision, your chin is grasped by a large hand and your face is lifted up to meet the expressionless face of the pirate captain, their uncovered eye scans your face and they turn your head side to side taking in every detail of your weak state before letting go and letting your head hang.

you can't help but shiver a little as they turn to face the crew member, 'Fuck' you can't help but think 'They're terrifying and even dangling 8ft off the ground they tower over me', their cold monotone voice cuts through the air "we have rules." The crew mate sputtering tries to plead their case "well yes bu-" a bang cuts them off and you hear the thump of a body collapsing on the floor you squeeze your eyes shut as your hear them reload their gun expecting them to fire on you next.

Two shots and you let out a surprised squeak when the chains holding you up shatter and you drop to the ground, you try to adjust yourself up to a sitting position but your arms can barely lift your torso off the floor and large boots enter your vision once more and you freeze as you're lifted off the ground by the back of your shirt and you're face to face with the captain. Your stare at them awkwardly trying to figure out what may be going through their mind while they gaze at you silently.

It cross your mind for a moment that from an outsiders perspective you're the size of a cat compared to them and they're holding you like you're a naughty kitten, you don't know what compelled you to do so, maybe you were delirious from the lack of sleep(quite difficult when you're hanging from your arms), maybe it was just stupidity or the untreated concussion you may have seeing the how much dried blood is in your hair but with all the strength you have left in your body, you meow at them.

It seems they have realized it too as their lips twitch upward and the let out a single amused huff before they grasp your bare legs, they open their mouth as the lift you up and your feet are suddenly in their mouth, you grimence and they begin to slowly but surely swallow you, you can't do much but wriggle a bit in their grasp, they take their time and eventually the move their hand from your thighs and move to grab your torso not even bothering to restrain your arms weakly pushing at their face.

You both knew that it's futile, you lost any chance at escape the moment your thighs pasted their lips, you even as you weakly try to keep them from consuming you, you can't help but notice they are being surprisingly gentle with you, softly shifting and prodding to keep you from getting nicked by their surprising sharp teeth, before you knew it they tilt their head up, their throat opens up wider and with a surprise yelp you find yourself slipping down quicker as gravity aids them in finishing you off and they snap their jaws shut when your fingers pass their teeth.

With one more gulp you're fully in their throat and quickly feel your feet slip through a ring of flesh as the Captain thumps their chest continuing to swallow and you're not so gently stuffed inside their gut, it gurgles and twitched around your form before it clenches tightly as the Captain lets out a thunderous belch before quickly swallowing a bit more air, it's not roomy but with those few gulps of air it's not uncomfortably tight either and the gurgling has settled down, the chamber softly groans around you and you take the time to investigate too exhausted to panic, it's tiringly warm, the firm yet squishy walls of the Pirate Captain's stomach pulse and sparkle with veins of light in time with the beat of the Pirate's hearts, if you die here at least it's "pretty" the last word that is said aloud before you drift off into unconsciousness.

---------

It seems you didn't recognize them but the Captain certainly recognized you, with a puff of air they pat their gut as they hear the soft word that left your lips as you fell under, they call someone to dispose of the rule breakers corpse and head to their cabin as they think about when you encountered each other on that neutral planet a few years back, you looks haven't changed much, they remember after you had help them with fixing a few broken parts they took from their ship, they had shown a hologram of you to their crew and gave them a rule, if the crew saw you they were to leave you be, but before they left the port station the Pirate told you if you ever crossed paths with them again they would eat you.

'after all' they thought as they smiled with a satisfied sharp toothed grin 'what better way to keep a treasure safe then by keeping it as close as possible' walking calmly as they tap their fingers against their gut, an after thought crossed their mind and they huff in amusement 'it was still funny that they meowed at me and I'm am going to tease the hell out of them for thinking that was a good idea'

[caramelcal]

someone you loved

Request: Hi, could you write some Luke Patterson x Reader based on Someone you loved from Lewis Capaldi, please? But I also would like a happy end if it is possible, although the song is sad one. Thanks in advance :)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: hellooo! its currently 1:15 am and i have school tomorrow lol...im so tired but i needed to finish this so enjoyyy! 

Masterlist

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold It's easy to say But it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain 

Remembering that day was something that you found yourself doing constantly, which was incredibly unfortunate. As you sat up in your room, curled up in a ball your mind drifted to him, the way the other girl had her arms around him, something you and only you were supposed to you.

You remembered the way she leaned against him, her body against his, her short tank top doing nothing to stop her skin from coming in contact with Luke.  Anger had bubbled in your chest as well as your throat tightening up, fists clenching at your sides. You saw the way her lips were pressed against his. Against your boyfriend’s. He pulled back away from her, and the way she went up to his ear, whispering seductively before her eyes caught onto you. Then she smirked.

Luke’s bandmates surrounded him, Bobby with two girls, both with the same minimal clothing that the one that was all over your boyfriend was wearing, Reggie was pawning over one that walked slightly in front of him and Alex looked dreadfully uncomfortable. Yet, you didn’t care about them, all you cared about was the way that girl was all over Luke. And if things couldn’t get any worse, whilst she maintained eye contact with you, she whispered in his ear again, why the hell was he not pulling away from her? Suddenly, after the girl said something, pointing a manicured finger in your direction, and his head snapped over to where you were, your eyes flickering between him and the girl, who was now walking backward away from him like her job was done.

“You know what, Patterson?” You shouted angrily at the boy, getting the entire group’s attention, “Fuck you, we’re over.”

And with that, you stormed off. Yet, it was weeks later and you were still crying about it, you missed the way put his arms around your stomach, pulling your back against his chest, the way he laughed with you, the way he cried with you, how he would have one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh when he was driving, you missed the way you blasted songs and just sang together. You missed everything and even though he hurt you, you still love him.

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Trying to convince yourself to get ready and go out after so many days of staying in your dark room, in pajamas, and wallowing in self-pity was hard but you did it. You got out of bed, got ready, and went on your way to get a drink at the local cafe; a hangout place that a lot of the students at your school used. You planned on meeting a friend here, but as you walked in and you saw him in there you knew it was a bad idea.

It wasn’t only him either, his bandmates were there too, talking, conversing and he had his arm around another girl. You shouldn’t have been surprised if he was willing to get with a girl when you guys were together, why would it be any different in the weeks after your break up? You’re staring at them for a while before one of them notices you, Reggie, smiling at you and waving you over.

“Y/n! Come over and join us for a milkshake!” Innocent Reggie. You don’t miss the semi-discrete nudge that Alex gives Reggie. He always did seem like the one person in the band with half a brain cell, and he was nice too. He looks up at you, casting you a sympathetic smile as Bobby, who again has another girl with him informs Luke that you’ve arrived. Yet, as your eyes catch onto him, you can’t help walking out.

He frowns at your retrieving figure, his body itching to run out and ditch everyone here to get you but he doesn’t as Bobby nudges him again, “Dude forget about her.”

Luke doesn’t say anything as he hesitantly nods, looking down and meeting eyes with Alex, who is sitting across from him. Luke had known Alex long enough to know what look he was giving him: almost begging him to chase after you, knowing that both you and Luke would benefit from it. But he didn’t. Luke stayed exactly where he was, arm slung over the girl’s shoulder.

He didn’t even remember the girl’s name, she wasn’t a bad looking girl but she wasn’t you. She was nice, but she didn’t know Luke as you did, she didn’t have a laugh that she hated but Luke found so adorable like you. Bobby said that these girls were distractions, to get Luke’s mind off of you but even as he sat there at that moment, not a single one of his thoughts strayed from you.

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It's easy to say but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

Sleep did not come easy to you that night, it never did without Luke there but after seeing him today at the cafe, you couldn’t even take a sip of water without being reminded of Luke. You knew it wasn’t a great idea, but you needed to clear your head, and if this was the only way to do it then so be it.

With your coat clung tightly around your body, you venture down the street, the window blowing softly against your face. It’s creepy, not something you saw in the peppy little town but as you walked down dimly lit streets, the streetlights buzzing slightly overhead you couldn’t help but feel a little jumpy. 

“You shouldn’t be out here at this time,” You hear a voice call from the shadows, making you jump around with eyes wide. You walk backward slightly as your head whips around, trying to catch where the voice came from as you catch onto his figure.

Clad in a plaid red flannel, Luke leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with eyes trained on you. You clear your throat, feeling a blush rise to your throat at the thought of Luke seeing you so on edge as you speak, “Luke.”

He’s rather far away from you, still lazily leaning against the building wall with his hair in its usual messy way. You liked it like that. The chain on his jeans rattles slightly as he shifts to face you, but still stays leaning against the wall, “y/n.”

It’s quiet for a few moments and for the first time in forever you feel incredibly uncomfortable around Luke. Even before you two got together you had always felt comfortable with Luke; at home. He can feel how much you don’t want to be there, he’s always been able to read you and you aren’t hiding your awkwardness well.

“Well if that’s all,” You say, clearing your throat as you eagerly swivel on your feet to go in the direction you came in, suddenly feeling like going home.

Yet, as you start to walk, you can’t help but stop when you hear Luke chuckle. Did he find this funny? When you peer back at him, seeing him shake his head as he continued to chuckle quietly, “What?”

“Nothing,” Luke dismisses but yet continues to laugh. His hands are in his jean pockets now, a smirk evident on his face.

“Clearly it’s something, what are you finding so funny?” You ask, not hiding how defensive you are you speak. You’ve completely turned towards him again, eyes watching the guitarist’s figure as he calms his laughing down.

Kicking his feet off of the wall, Luke stands up, walking closer to where you stand in the middle of the sidewalk. He pretty much closes the gap between the two of you, until he’s about a foot away from you, peering at you with hazel eyes.

“I just think it’s funny how because we broke up you think we can’t even speak to each other anymore.”

You almost stutter as you break eye contact with the boy. You knew that whatever you said was probably going to lead to an argument and honestly, that was the last thing you wanted right now, “I have to get going.”

“No you don’t,” Luke swiftly responds, shaking his head at you as your eyes snap back up to him, leaving him to rock on his heels.

Your eyes close into slits as you feel annoyance bubble in your stomach. Even if Luke did know when you lied, he should know to let it go, to avoid confrontation but maybe he wanted this, “I left without letting my parents know. If I’m just missing from my bedroom they’ll probably be worried.”

“Your parents aren’t even home, y/n, they’re away on a trip,” You can’t hide the surprise on your face when Luke says that. How he knew that was beyond you because no one else knew but you and your parents. Yet, he elaborates, eyes never leaving you, “even if I couldn’t tell when you’re lying, y/n, I would still know. Your parents stopped me on the way out of town saying they were leaving town for a bit and wanted me to keep an eye on you. They’re worried y/n, ‘said you haven’t been yourself lately. You didn’t tell them we broke up, did you?”

Lips apart, you stare up at Luke, shaking your head, voice quiet and low, “I couldn’t. They really liked you. I couldn’t tell them you cheated.”

“You wouldn’t have to because I didn’t.”

“I saw you, Luke! I saw you with that other girl!” You yelled, your voice no longer low as you felt the rage start to bubble at the bottom of your chest again. The fact that you caught him in the act and he still denies it angered you, why couldn’t he just own up to it? “Are you going to say I imagined it? That I didn’t see anything?”

“I’m not, no,” Luke replied, keeping his voice calm as he shook his head, “What I am going to say is that you don’t know what you saw.”

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes I fall into your arms I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around

For now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Suddenly, everything made sense. It wasn’t his fault and you felt so dumb. You were almost speechless after he finished talking, leaving both of you in silence for several moments.

“I-I’m sorry,”

“Why are you sorry?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you.

“I should have let you explain and we wouldn’t be in this mess, we both wouldn’t have been-”

Luke doesn’t let you finish, almost feeling how guilty you felt for immediately assuming the worst of him. He knew it wasn’t your fault, he would have been just as angry if he was in the situation you were, “Hey it’s alright. I should’ve run after you and explained everything then.”

You don’t say anything as he pulls you into a hug, a warmth that you had yearned for over the past few weeks. He has a hand on your back, holding you close, and a hand on the back of your head, softly running his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much,”  He whispered to you, leaving you to hug him closer to you, to enjoy the warmth before it disappeared again. You never wanted to let go, you felt safe in his hold, you felt at home.

He placed a soft kiss against the top of your head, still holding you close before you looked up at him, “I missed you too, Lu.”

He flashes you a soft smile, one that had always melted your heart, “How about we go home, huh?”

[straightouttaneptune]

You’ll come with me, won’t you?

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Reader

Warning: It’s different. Joker is a bitch. Reader becomes kind of morally weird as the fic progresses. People die. 

Summary: Y/N is a baby psychiatrist, who just started out. Suddenly, she is trusted with the most feared case of all. Harleen Quinzel. Y/N thinks it’ll be good for her career, or will it?

A/N: I couldn’t find a good ending to this for the longest time, I’m so glad I did. Also, this is for my 500 followers fic queue :) Thank you for the love, darlings✨

—————————————————————

“Harleen Quinzel?”

That was a name you’d heard before. That was a name everyone’s heard before, at least once in their lives. But it was not the name that had surprised you, but it was the fact that her name was right there on top of your long patient list.

“Yeah, congrats Y/N. She’s pretty famous around here. Straighten her out and you’ll probably be in the big city in less than a year.” Your colleague, Megan peered into your books over your shoulders and patted your back affectionately.

You were one of the new psychiatrists in the business, and you had been dealing with criminal minors, the less mental mental patients and all the clients that newbies would usually handle. Being fresh out of university after holing up in the labs and libraries, you needed to gain some experience first before taking on the really hard cases.

Or... that’s what you were told.

“C’mon, Meg, you gotta know more than that. Why would they pass her case to me? She’s a rank SS psycho.” You pushed, looking up at her through your lashes in a slightly accusatory manner.

She gave you a look that asked; “Do you really want to know?” And you nodded.

“Well, I heard the other docs, the guys who were like 10, 20, hell, 30 years into the business, they all got their brains scrambled by... this girlie.” Her index finger landed on the profile photo of Harley Quinn, an apologetic look in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, not necessarily at Megan, but at whoever it was that tried to deal this card to you. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s cruel, but you can always turn it down, y’know?” Megan set her books aside, her left arm cradling your slumped shoulders.

“Yeah... But I might not.”

Megan’s dropped gaze snapped back up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a good way to kick-start my career, I guess.”

\|/

“Hello, new doc.” The moment you entered the room, you regretted making this decision immediately. Harley Quinn sat in a big contraption-looking chair, her hands and feet shackled onto the armrests and legs of the seat. Her platinum blonde hair was untied and unkempt, its bottoms still dyed red and blue, although it seemed to have faded over time.

The only thing dividing the space between you and Harley was a metallic table bolted on the floor, wide enough so even if Harley broke off her arm shackles and reached for you, she wouldn’t be able to touch you. You swallowed your nerves and entered the room with a confident stride, smiling sweetly at the guards as they closed the door with eyes of concern.

“Hello, Miss Quinzel.” You thanked heavens that your words came out right, especially in front of a woman who could sniff out people’s fears from thousands of miles away.

“You’re the first girl I’ve had.” She mused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But the light in her eyes has lost its original color, you thought. She looked much more lively in photos taken way back then. When she was just a psychiatrist.

“Hm. I guessed that it would be nice to have some heart to heart, female to female.” You reassured your anxious self calmly in your head, repeating the words ‘you got this, Y/N.’

“Do you know why I’m here, and not... Damien? Who usually comes in for your check-ups?” Stowing your clipboard away on your lap, you continued.

“Yeah. Before him was another guy, then a grandpa and just... a buncha stupid-lookin’ guys. But I didn’t like them.” She replied as if it was the most simple thing in the world. The files back in the company would argue differently. Every single guy, either was tormented by her psychotic attacks or totally gone insane from her mental tricks.

“Are you going to do the same thing to me?” You asked, not really knowing what answer to expect. Your eyes remained soft, a small smile gracing your lips as you waited for her answer.

“No. I like ya.” She answered quickly, shrugging and adverting her gaze away to look down at her shackles. “Can I sit down like you?” She shook her wrist lightly, the chains rattling against the armrest.

“Maybe next time, Miss Quinzel.”

“There’s a next time? Yeah!”

You internally smiled to yourself, what a successful human being she would’ve been if not for a man like Joker to ruin her life. Right then, you vowed to whatever higher power was out there, that you’d get Harley Quinn to break free from his spell.

The people in your office were surprised, to say the least, that you were able to keep up your visits to the prison, and that an amateur therapist like you could get the queen of Gotham in a tight little leash. You didn’t like to think about it like that, but rather that she trusts you better than any of the others.

The weekly visits became 2 days a week, and from weeks of good behavior, Harley was allowed to be without handcuffs during her sessions now. You weren’t afraid she’d leap up and strangle you, because of some sort of connection the two of you formed after all those times spent together.

“Hey doc, why can’t you visit me more ‘round here?” Harley pouted, interrupting the current therapy session with an abrupt comment.

You looked up from your clipboard, dumbfounded. Why would she want to have you around more?

“Harley, I’m just your therapist.” You tapped the end of your pencil against the material of the clipboard, locking eyes with the woman. Anyone could see that she was starting to look better, particularly her eyes. They looked more human, compared to the hollow shell they used to be.

“I know, Y/N. But I’ve been doin’ some thinkin. It’s pretty fuckin clear that Mister J isn’t coming for me, and the suicide squad was probably just a one-time thing. And... You’re all I have.” She admitted, slowly sliding down from her pipe chair and laying down on the concrete floor.

The wooden chair you sat on scraped against the hard floor as you pushed it back. Standing up from your seat, you walked over to her in 3 steps. You kneeled down beside her, her skin just inches away from you. “Do you want a hug?” You questioned quietly, your voice softer and more inviting than usual. Harley felt this too, sitting up in a millisecond just as the offer left your lips.

“Yeah.” She almost crawled over to you, her arms wrapping around your neck desperately. That would’ve been terrifying if it was out of context, but she actually wasn’t trying to kill you. She genuinely just wanted a warm embrace.

You felt her slender torso tighten and loosen as if she was trying to repress a sob. Hand carefully sliding over her back, you whispered; “Let it out.”

And she did.

\|/

Time flew by as you continued to work on her case, and you fell into the worst situation a psychiatrist could possibly be in while working. You grew emotionally invested in your client. As a friend, who cared for her well being and happiness. 

Maybe... even more.

You still didn’t know if you could trust her though, you managed to keep a cool head and your mind was rational, but that only confirmed the fact that Harley wasn’t playing any tricks on you. That you were genuinely becoming attached to the beautiful prisoner.

Harley, on the other hand, did intend on ruining you at first. Make them run back to where they came from crying, so no one would disturb her again while she waited for her puddin.

But it was all starting to feel different with you.

“Hey, doc?” Harley called out from inside her electric cage. She was being a little bit mischievous that day, and she pulled an armed guard against the buzzing bars when he wasn’t looking. He probably died, she guessed.

But she didn’t like that she couldn’t be near you during your sessions. So a man died, big deal!

“Can you let me out?” She pleaded in the sweetest voice she could muster, calling out to you who was currently propped up on the usual desk, writing down some notes on your clipboard.

“No, Harley. I don’t have the keys to your cell.” You replied without looking up, but you could imagine the cute pout that Harley had when you denied her of something.

“But would you open it if you did?” You looked up at that question, seeing her smiling from ear to ear now, anticipation glowing in her eyes.

“Maybe. I know you won’t hurt me.” You smiled back at her, watching her facial expression carefully. How would she react if you showed some warm friendliness towards her? Could she possibly return to the life she used to have?

“Maybe I will, doc. You don’t know what goes on in here.” Harley leaped up to her cloth swing she’d made for herself, her now almost completely platinum hair draping down her back.

“I hope you won’t hurt me, then.”

You couldn’t forget that split second where Harley’s eyes looked more humane than it ever has been for many, many years.

\|/

“Warning. Warning. Escape Attempt in Sector 9H11.”

The sound of the speaker and the blasting alarm merged together in a chorus of chaos, guards and officers running around to stop whoever the escapee was.

It was 9:30AM and you were just about to enter the asylum for your shift, when this sudden noise almost blasted your ears off. Before you could process what was happening, a bomb went off right next to you, making you scream and clutch your head as you ducked.

The debris fell everywhere along with broken pieces of concrete, and you just stayed there trying to collect your thoughts. Right when a random hand grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Hi, doc. I was lookin’ for ya. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Harley pulled you to the side, hiding the two of you behind a few bushes. Her eyes were electric making you realize that the true “Harleen Quinzel” you’ve been trying to look for is right in front of you now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” You didn’t hesitate to take her outreached hand. Your mind had already been made up since the first time you laid your eyes on her.