#do i call this torn memo au? no :))

[canine-teethed-sheets]

so as yall know, when i get inspired by aus i REALLY like, i tend to uhhhhh STEAL it :)) /J /J /J

sO

i got inspired by my good friend @unknownarmageddon 's apocalyptic kross au and thought " .... what if i make.... MY GAYS too..... " so i picked errordream because. yes

this was the whole page of my book btw :))

[leiakenobi]

The Chick in Apt 56

Fandom: Ex Machina (2014) Pairing: Nathan Bateman/F!Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 1.9k Summary: After your next-door neighbor leaves you a note about how he heard you having sex, the two of you unintentionally begin a written back-and-forth. Warnings: Innuendo, but no sexual situations. A/N: So neighbor AU Nathan has actually existed for the better part of a year through this lil headcanon post, but now here he finally is in fic form! I didn’t end up following the original headcanons too closely, but they were still very much on my mind while I was writing.

Cross-posted to AO3 here! I think this fic is more readable over there, but the whole thing is in this post below the cut as well.

——

[Yellow post-it note, affixed to door knocker] To the chick in apt 56— Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our walls are thin as shit. And as much as I love the sound of a girl getting railed, I get up at 5 A.M., so if you could schedule future booty calls for a more reasonable hour, that’d be great.

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Nathan— Sorry if it was difficult for you to listen to a woman actually experiencing some pleasure. I’ll be sure to cater to your busy schedule from now on. P.S. We’ve both been here for nearly two years. I know you know my name.

 [Yellow post-it note, haphazardly slapped above doorknob] Funny. Just keep it down please.

[Pale blue post-it note, covering peep hole] Girl in 56— Were you louder on purpose??? If so, thanks for thinking of me while you were fucking, but the least you could do is scream my name next time. Helps me finish.

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Surely you’re too busy trying to get your beauty(?) sleep to jerk off to the sound of your neighbor fucking. How else would you get up in a timely manner to get to your early morning workout at Planet Fitness?

 [Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] As if I’d work out at Planet Fitness. (I know you said that because you knew it would annoy me. Which—fuck you.) P.S. I have a package scheduled to come tomorrow while I’ll be at a last-minute meeting across the city. Could you find time to sign for it in between your sexcapades?

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Fine.

 [Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door of apartment 55] FedEx— Please get signature from woman in apt 56.

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, taped to package] You’re fully cat-sitting for me next time I go out of town.

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Someone’s a hypocrite. A shame you couldn’t make her finish. My parents are visiting over the weekend, so if you happen to get laid twice after such a long dry spell, could you do it somewhere else?

 [Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] She came just fine. Twice. And dry spell? At least I’ve never implied that was why I’d never heard anything from your apartment until a few months ago.

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] If you think those fake moans meant she came, you’re deluding yourself. And I’m sorry, I was trying to be generous. Figured a dry spell was the reason you got off so fast.

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Nathan— We were eating dinner.

 [Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] Why do you think I fucked her in the kitchen?

 [Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] Could you sign for another package on Thursday?

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] You ask like I’m not still traumatized by the experience of making small talk with my parents while we listened to you fuck some girl’s brains out. Besides, you weren’t exactly grateful last time.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Because you left thousands of dollars worth of tech in our hallway! Why did you think they required a signature?

 [Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] For the tenth time Nathan, if you didn’t want me to leave it in the hallway you should’ve said so.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door of apartment 55] FedEx— Please get signature from woman in apt 56.

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Heads up that I’m having some friends over tomorrow night so it’ll be noisy. You’re welcome to come if you want, assuming it doesn’t interfere with your old man bedtime.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on gift-wrapped box] Fuck you for not telling me it was your birthday.

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I told you you didn’t need to give me a gift! On a related note—a vibrator is not a good gift for someone you’re not fucking.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Just thought the buzz on yours is sounding weaker than it used to. Figured you could use a replacement.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Did you like it?

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I don’t know what you’re talking about.

 [Plain white 8.5- by 11-inch paper, typed, left on counter underneath a Tupperware of oatmeal cookies] Nathan: - Please feed one scoop of food once in the morning and once in the evening if possible (but one double scoop earlier in the day is fine if you wouldn’t be able to give him dinner until very late). - He loves pets while he eats. Not saying you have to give him pets, but he will look at you expectantly if you don’t. - I normally try to empty his litter every day, but if you could just do it once about halfway through my trip, that’d be fine. - If you can, some playtime or cuddles would be nice to make sure he doesn’t feel too lonely. His favorite toys are in a box next to the couch. He loves people and should recognize you by now, so he’ll probably jump right up to cuddle if you just sit down next to his favorite blanket. You’re welcome to stick around and read or watch TV for a bit while he sits with you. - Hope you like oatmeal cookies. I tried to go with something healthier so that you don’t feel a need to up your SoulCycle regimen. [Handwritten underneath] Thanks again for doing this. Stay out of my bedroom. [Handwritten underneath that] I don’t do SoulCycle and you know it.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on bedroom door] The contrarian in me nearly went in here out of spite.

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Thanks again for cat-sitting. The little asshole keeps looking at the door around dinnertime like you’re gonna come in to feed him. I’ll be home every night this week, just return my spare key whenever.

 [Yellow post-it note, wrapped around key and slid under door] Your pussy has good taste. Thank you again for the cookies. I’m out every night but here’s the spare.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Sounded like a lousy fuck last night.

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Oh my god he was still here. No need to comment on the quality of my sex life, Bateman.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Hey, at least I didn’t imply that you were the problem.

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] When you actually make someone come, I’ll retract my statement.

 [Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] A girl bailed on our dinner plans after I already started cooking. Help me eat some of it?

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] If this is how you ask all the girls into your apartment, it’s no wonder you can’t get a second date. I mean, that plus. You know. The other thing. The you’re bad in bed thing. I’m saying you’re bad in bed.

 [Back of a receipt, left on night stand] That was a bad idea. I couldn’t find my bra, give it back when you have a chance?

 [Pale green post-it note, stuck on plain brown box] Found it. When do I get my retraction?

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] What, you need it in writing too?

 [Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] If there’s one thing I learned from my lawyer parents, it’s that I should get everything in writing.

 [Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] Bad joke, sorry.

 [Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I’m used to it, you make a lot of bad jokes.

 [Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] Will you stop avoiding me if I agree it was a bad idea?

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] That depends, do you actually agree it was a bad idea or do you just want me to stop avoiding you?

 [Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] If it means that you’ll avoid me forever, it was a bad idea.

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Going on a weekend trip and my friend who was supposed to cat sit came down with the flu. Can you help out?

 [Inscription on the front page of a copy of Much Ado About Nothing, left on counter] To the chick in apt 56— I was browsing your bookshelves while looking for something to read, and I noticed your copy of Much Ado looked pretty rough, so I picked up a new one for you. Same editor, since I know some people are picky about that sort of thing. I always went in more for the tragedies, but I think this one is growing on me.

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] You’re not Benedick.

 [Yellow post-it note, wrapped around key and slid under door] Never said I was.

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] You doing alright? I haven’t heard you leave for three days.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck to empty Tupperware] Thanks for the soup. Were you lying about it being store-bought? I finally felt up to shopping today and couldn’t find anything like it anywhere. I’d pay honest to god money for you to make it again.

 [Scan of soup recipe, slid under door] [Handwritten underneath] If I recall correctly, you’re a capable cook. I’ll warn you that it doesn’t taste as good when you’re not sick. It’s like magic.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Do you think I could get another cold if I asked enough strangers to sneeze and cough on me?

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Don’t you dare. You’re insufferable as it is but you turn into a big baby when you’re sick.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] I’m having some people over for my birthday on Saturday. (See how easy it is to mention that it’s your birthday?) Come, maybe?

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I think I have time to make an appearance.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Just postpone your date with my vibrator and come to the party.

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, folded and taped to a Tupperware of oatmeal cookies] Nathan— That was a shit move on my part, I’m sorry. It was a fun night and I got carried away, but you were right to stop me. Thanks for being uncharacteristically nice about it. After the way I acted last time, I definitely deserved worse.

 [Yellow post-it note, stuck on empty Tupperware] Just didn’t want you to regret anything.

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Maybe I do, a little bit. What if I did? I think I might.

 [Yellow paper torn from memo pad, left on pillow] You look cute when you let yourself sleep in. Since apparently my coffee isn’t good enough for you, I’m running to the place down the street. I’ll feed the little menace before I go so if he tries to get you out of bed, you can ignore him. xx

——

interested in my other fics or my taglist form? you can find them on my masterlist here

taglist: @abelslittlebunny​, @aellynera​, @alwritey-aphrodite​, @amneris21​, @anetteaneta​, @bdavishiddlesbatch​, @be-the-spark-flyboy​, @brandyllyn​, @clumsy-stormtrooper​, @ew-erin​, @foxilayde​, @hayley-the-comet​, @hyperfixatingmenever​, @iflostreturntobudcooper​, @jitterbugs927​, @knivesareout​, @leto-duke​, @lostgirlheather​, @louderrthanthunderr​, @marvelousmermaid​, @moonlightburned​, @mstgsmy​, @one-hell-of-a-disappointment​, @poedameronloverx​, @prettylilhalforc​, @princessxkenobi​, @pumpkin-stars​, @rosiefridayrogersunday​, @salome-c​, @starryeyedstories​, @sugarpunch-princess​, @thedukeofcaladan​, @whovianayesha, @yourbucky084​

[kabira]

01 | first period biology

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

word count — 3k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence, mentions of school tests

summary — vernon doesn’t entertain bad guys on monday mornings, but the villain of the day apparently didn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

note — first chapter woohoo! in celebration of comeback day, i present to you: my first actual tumblr multi-part series. send me an ask or dm if you want to be in the taglist! masterlist coming soon <3

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

I do not have time for this.

Vernon swung through the air, landing nimbly on the road just a few feet behind the newest menace that had decided to grace his neighborhood with its presence. The self-proclaimed Rhino—basically a guy in a rhinoceros suit, as the name suggested—was tearing down 108th street at breakneck speed, which was almost as fast as Vernon mid-swing. Almost.

“Hey, slow down!” he called as he launched himself towards the suited man, and a little kid with a lollipop gaped as Spider-Man swung right towards the Rhino, legs stretched straight before him. “Tsk, how are we supposed to tango if I can’t even keep up?”

Rhino roared when Vernon dropkicked him right in the middle of his back, but the kick didn’t put him out of commission like Vernon had hoped it would. The villain (and Vernon used the term loosely) swung his fist towards him, but he flipped backwards, landing on top of a car, which dented under the force.

“Why is it always Queens?” Vernon asked, annoyed, as Rhino charged towards him. He pushed off the car to avoid Rhino, who crashed headfirst into the vehicle, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Right next to it, a yellow Kia’s alarm went off. Vernon, now hanging from the building behind it, huffed. “And why is it always right before school?”

And a Monday, too. Vernon usually allowed for supervillains busting down his metaphorical door on mornings, but Mondays were usually off-limits. Honestly, what kind of villain gets up at seven a.m. on a Monday?

Vernon scaled the brick wall of the building, looking for a high vantage point he could drop down from, but even the little effort seemed to tire him out more than usual. Having studied until late night the day before, right after stopping a third try at a robbery on seventy-third (honestly, do these people never learn?), he had only managed to catch about three hours of sleep. It was normal by Spidey standards, but not by Vernon standards. Especially when he was supposed to have a test in first period biology.

“Spider-Man!” Rhino bellowed from three storeys below, snapping Vernon back to the present. He sighed as man demolished another car, no doubt to show off his might or strength or whatever it was villains loved to show off these days. “Face me!”

Vernon looked down. In the morning, everything was awash with sunlight, including Rhino. The suit was a dark gray but didn’t seem to be made of metal, looking about three to four inches thick like some kind of hide-like body armor, and light glinted off the visor that only half-showed his adversary’s face. If he hadn’t been about to be pummeled to death by the guy in rhinoceros suit, he would have appreciated the beautiful workmanship more. The horn was a nice touch.

“If you just wanted to see me, an email would have been fine!” Vernon called, letting go of the wall and righting himself in free-fall as he hurtled towards the Rhino. “No need to put on a show for little ol’ me—”

Okay. Maybe he had miscalculated the distance or maybe Rhino was less distracted than he thought, because instead of him dropping in on the villain like a ton of bricks, Rhino swung his suited arm, catching Vernon in the chest with bone-shattering force, and sent him flying.

Vernon hit the sidewalk with enough force for his body to skid a few feet before coming to a rest. His backpack (which had somehow not been torn to shreds) absorbed most of the blow, but the impact had knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there for a few seconds, wondering if he should just stay down. His head was already pounding, and a sleepy spider was a grumpy spider.

He changed his mind at the last moment as Rhino’s fist swung towards his face, and he flipped onto his back, jumping out of the way just as the fist came down where he had been lying milliseconds ago. Beneath the mask, Vernon’s eyes widened as he saw the blow break the asphalt.

I really do not have time for this.

“What the heck is that suit even made of?” he muttered as he dodged another blow, trying to work out a way to subdue Rhino as fast as possible. The suit was big and heavy, which usually made for slower reactions, and a good old webbing-down would have been the perfect way to wrap up the show, but if the suit was strong enough, even his web fluid wouldn’t hold. Vernon had to knock him out somehow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rhino made a throaty, hacking sound like could have been laughter. “Unfortunately, you will be dead before you can even get close enough.”

“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way,” Vernon said, dodging yet another attack, resulting in Rhino’s head getting stuck in the cracked windshield of a car for a moment. God, that guy was like a battering ram. He couldn’t keep this up forever. “We can always sit down and talk about this.”

“Spider-Man, I’ll kill you!”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Vernon raised his wrists, aiming at the car. Thwip-thwip, went the fluid from his web shooters, trapping the Rhino against the side of the vehicle. “Shame,” he said, as the man thrashed against his web restraints. “I know a really good taco place around here.”

The Rhino yelled, lifting the entire car bodily. Vernon watched as he raised the car over his head, the webbing breaking from the strain of the suit against them, and threw it directly at him.

Ah, crap.

Vernon would like to think he would have managed to get away from there in time even if someone hadn’t snatched him up into the air, but he doubted it. There was something majestic about watching a villain he’d underestimated lift a whole car up to throw at him.

The person caught him under the arms and lifted him into the air, away from the enraged roar of the Rhino that resounded throughout the street. Vernon’s first reaction to being picked cleanly off the road would be fear, but his spider sense hadn’t gone off yet. He tried to look up at his captor/savior, but the back of his head collided with something hard. “Ow,” he mumbled. “Who the hell are you?”

“The guy who just saved your ass, webhead,” the boy replied derisively. Or at least it sounded like a boy, very much like those guys in the cafeteria who used to drop snide remarks behind Vernon’s back pre-spider bite. The guy dropped him on the roof of a shorter building, and Vernon rolled out of the way, getting to his feet. The boy was dressed in a metallic-looking dark blue-and-gold suit, a bucket-like helmet over his head. The lower of his face was uncovered, exposing lips twisted into a scowl. “I’m not even getting a thank-you?”

“…thanks,” Vernon muttered after scrutinizing the guy for a moment. “Uh, who are you actually?”

“I’m Nova, creep.”

“Nova Creep.” He considered this. “Interesting.”

“Just Nova!” the boy snapped, sounding even more displeased than before. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my team and save the frickin’ neighborhood.”

Saying this, he turned and took off again, no doubt heading for wherever the action was. Vernon watched him go, choosing to take a breather instead of following him back down.

New superheroes in town? It wasn’t unheard of, and Vernon had had his fair share of newbies and oldies both to deal with in his year-long career as Queens’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

He looked down over the edge of the roof. Sure enough, there were three of them—a girl in a white suit, moving around the wreckage like an acrobat and slashing at the Rhino’s suit, Nova Creep shooting fist lasers (Flight powers and fist lasers? Unfair.) at him, and—was that Iceman?

Vernon hesitated. He could join the fight and help finish it more quickly, but if Iceman was here, the X-Men couldn’t be farther away. He could leave the three to it and get to school in time to catch forty winks before class, no harm done. Was he even needed?

Unfortunately, he knew he was only giving himself the illusion of choice. Spider-Man never walked away from a fight, even if someone more capable was dealing with it.

He shot webs at the metal post hanging out from the opposing building and swung back down, joining the fight just as Rhino caught the girl around the middle like he had Vernon, sending her flying back into an already wrecked car. Vernon cushioned her landing with webs, managing to protect her body from the broken metal chassis, and she was back on her feet in seconds, joining his side.

“Thanks,” she said, which surprised him. Most superheroes didn’t take the time out to thank him, but that was usually unnecessary, since they evened out the score by saving his life. “You know this guy?”

“Nah, he’s new in town,” he replied, watching Nova and Iceman fight the Rhino. Iceman froze him from the legs to his waist, but it didn’t hold for long before Rhino broke through the ice. “Strong, though, I’ll give him that.”

“It’s the suit,” the girl told him. Now that they were up close, Vernon could see that her costume somewhat resembled a white tiger, with the pointed ears and yellow eyes. He wondered if she’d been bitten by a radioactive white tiger. “It’s made of some kind of polymer.”

“Polymer?” he echoed, even more surprised. He’d assumed metal.

“Self-regenerating,” she affirmed. “It’s not indestructible—I slashed through the hide with my claws, but—”

“Your claws?”

She raised her hand. Under the white glove, her nails extended into wicked, claw-like tips. “Cool,” he said, voice cracking halfway through the word. He cleared his throat. “Very Woverine-ish.”

“He’s a mutant,” she said dismissively. What was he supposed to call her? Tigerwoman? Tigergirl? “Rhino’s suit regenerates. We have to knock him out.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out,” Vernon muttered.

“A little help here?!” Nova yelled, zipping through the air in a zigzag manner to avoid the Rhino’s hits. “Or are you two going to stand around and chat all day?”

Vernon’s lips twitched into an unintentional smile. “I’ll web him up,” he told tiger lady. “You think Nova can pull him up?”

Tiger inclined her head. “Not on his own, but with a little frosty boost…”

“Great.” He sprinted towards the group, shooting webs at the Rhino’s head to get his attention and distract him from the others. “Hey, Hippo! Over here!”

The Rhino ripped off the webbing from his visor, not wasting a moment before charging him. Vernon lunged, wrapping the Rhino suit up in webs as he scaled the wall, trapping him in the web fluid. It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew—but he only needed a few seconds. And some blind faith.

The excessive webbing wrapped around Rhino like a net trap, and Vernon pulled, lifting him into the air with as much strength as he could muster. Below him, Iceman froze a column of ice under the Rhino’s butt, giving him a little extra height. Ten feet…twenty feet…

“Tiger!” Vernon yelled.

She lunged, pushing off the hood of a dented car to give her extra height, and ripped through the thin web holding him up with her claws. Rhino plummeted to the ground, crashing into a car and through it, the fall only broken by the ground, the asphalt cracking beneath the force.

Vernon watched him anxiously. The suit should have been heavy enough to render the man inside unconscious, unless he had a really good cushioning system in place.

He counted to ten in his head. Rhino didn’t move.

Thank god for bad cushioning, Vernon thought, swinging back down to the ground. “You guys think you could carry him?” he asked the three. Iceman didn’t even look over, broodily watching the unconscious villain’s body. Oh well. “He’s a heavy hitter.”

“We could make it back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with him,” Tiger said. Then she glanced at him, cocking her head in a perplexed manner. “Wait, why do you—”

“I gotta run.” He shrugged sheepishly, adjusting the straps of his bag, which had only undergone minimal damage. The wonders never ceased. “You see, I’m late to first period biology.”

Vernon crashed through the doors of his school so fast he almost ploughed down Joshua, who had been standing just before the entrance, probably waiting for him.

The journey hadn’t taken more than a few minutes—he tried not to change clothes in suspicious-smelling service alleys as much as possible, but some situations left him no choice—but he only had a few minutes to get to class, and detention was something he couldn’t afford to get. He hated disappointing Aunt May more than he hated getting his ass beat by some B-list villain.

“Hey, hey, hey, relax,” Joshua said, righting him. The hallways were almost empty, but not quite, indicating that he wasn’t too late to the not-party. The boy fixed his glasses, giving Vernon a look. “Did you get into a fight?”

Vernon blinked at him. “What? No. This guy called Rhino—”

“Shh.” Joshua dragged him to one side, away from earshot of the general populace of Midtown High, and gave him a concerned look. “Dude, your face is bleeding.”

Joshua was one of the only few individuals in the world who knew about Vernon’s identity as Spider-Man, which was just as well, because if it hadn’t been for his blue-haired best friend he would have walked into a test with his nose gushing like a bloody geyser. “Thanks,” he mumbled, when Joshua handed him a clean-looking handkerchief. He raised it to his face. “Did you wipe your nose on this?”

Joshua made a face. “Not that I remember.”

“Good enough.” He cleaned off the blood as well as he could, which was hard, because he was feeling jittery and apparently his hands agreed. “Do I look fine?”

“You never look fine, my friend,” his friend said sagely. “But you look like you always do, so I guess, yes.”

Vernon shot him a grim smile, and started down the corridor towards 12-B, which was where he was supposed to be in ten minutes. He wasn’t even late, actually, but Mr. Malkin didn’t need a big excuse to give someone a C+ for a tardy warning. Joshua followed close behind. “So, which guy beat you up this time?”

“I didn’t get beat up.” Vernon rolled his eyes. “Well, not entirely—”

“Vernon Parker, report to room 10-A.” Both the boys’ heads whipped up towards the source of the sound, which came as an announcement from the speakers. “Vernon Parker, room 10-A, please.”

“What?” Vernon whirled on Joshua, panicked. The blue-haired boy’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, but he only shrugged in response. “But the test!”

He tried to think back to anything wrong he might have done in the past few weeks to get called aside like this, but he couldn’t think of anything. Plus, he hadn’t been summoned to the principal’s office, which confused him even more. Why room 10-A?

“Now you’ve had it, Parker,” Flash Thompson said as he passed them, grinning.

Vernon scowled at his retreating back, his grip tightening around the bag strap. “Whatever,” he muttered, then threw Joshua his bag. “Take it to the class, won’t you? I’ll try to get back as soon as I can.”

Without waiting for affirmation, he jogged off to find room 10-A, wanting to get whatever it was over with so he would get back on time. When he got there, the room was empty except for a lady in a pencil skirt and jacket, holding a clipboard in her hand. Upon his entry, she smiled at him in a friendly way, which only served to tick him off further.

“Whatever this is, couldn’t I do it some other time?” he pleaded. He hadn’t seen this staff member before, but he didn’t seem to be in trouble, and his grades had enough pull to get him out of some random appointment before classes. “I have a test in like, five minutes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to your teacher about this,” the woman said, continuing to smile. She gestured to one of the seats. “Take a seat.”

Reluctantly, he obliged, not really having an excuse not to now. “What is this, exactly?” he asked. Now that panic had taken a backseat, doubt was beginning to creep in. Why only him? And how had he never seen this woman before?

“In light of recent events, the school has decided to start counselling sessions for all of the students to help them cope,” she said. She had a really nice smile, her skin tan and unblemished, cheeks dimpled. “I’m Melia Fox,” she said. “I just need to ask you a few questions, and you can be on your way.”

He stared back at her, miffed. A year of incidents, and they suddenly decided to have counselling sessions now? “Why just me?” he asked slowly. “I’m sorry, but isn’t there some kind of rule or protocol for—”

“There is,” said a new voice. Vernon whipped around, and there at the end of the classroom, where moments ago had been nothing but air, stood a tall black man with an eyepatch. “And Agent Fox is following it.”

Vernon gaped. “I—what?”

“Spider-Man,” Nicky Fury said, with a note of muted resolution in his voice, “we need to have a little chat.”

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Sixteen

“Hermione.” 

As soon as Harry groans the name, Ron’s forgotten about his intentions to calm his best friend. 

Instead, he’s now hell bent on the significance of him saying her name. 

Surely it can’t be good, can it? Maybe Harry knows where she is or maybe they’ve done something to her... 

Ron shivers at the thoughts and it’s just provoking him further to find out what it all means. 

“Harry, what is it? What about Hermione?” He asks desperately, despite the moans of pain from the black haired boy. 

“Ron.” Someone, he thinks Lupin, warns. 

He ignores them, “he just needs a minute. That’s all.” He tells the room hoarsely. 

Molly soon drops to her knees and pushes a glass of water to Harry’s lips. He greedily drinks it as it gives him the strength to come to. 

As his eyes become less cloudy, Ron seems to take notice, using this to his advantage to continue his questioning. 

“Harry, what did he want? Did you see-” and suddenly, now that he no longer has to worry if Harry’s alright, he realizes he’s too scared to hear about Hermione. If she’s hurt or worse. 

The chosen one seemed to understand the direction this was going  in and mustered all his strength to push up onto his elbows. Thankfully, Ron grabbed at him and gave him the support he needed as the pair met eye to eye. 

And looking into Ron’s blue pools of hope, Harry feels his own green ones glass over at what he just saw. 

“Harry, did you see something? About Hermione?” Molly coaxes gently from her spot on her knees. 

He nods. It’s a strangled, painful thing. 

“Where is she? Do you know where she is?” Fred asks, rushed, panicked almost. 

Ron doesn’t have the will to question him,  he’s too stunned. 

“No, I don’t know, I can’t, I just,” Harry’s hysterical, the worst anyone in the room has seen him, “Le-Lestrange, Dolohov, Worm-” he begins to heave, “Wormtail and-and Greyback. Don’t know the rest. Don’t know.” He’s shaking his head like mad. 

Moody steps forward and grasps his shoulder painfully, “pull yourself together Potter. Who else was there!” He shouts. 

Molly moves to protest, but Arthur holds her back, knowing this is what Harry needed. 

The Boy-Who-Lived clears his throat and takes several deep breaths, “the room, it was so cold,” he shivered, “it was dull. Empty, dust everywhere. The only thing I remember,” Harry closes his eyes to visualize it, “was a chandelier. It was the only thing shining in the room, you couldn’t miss it.” He admonishes, hoping someone has an idea. 

No one does. He goes on. 

“Vol-Volde,” he can’t seem to get the name out, “You-Know-Who came, asked Hermione questions, but she wouldn’t talk, didn’t speak.” The dark haired boy is crying again, “he said if she didn’t talk he’d just have to make her sc-scream.” Harry begins to cough, almost as if he is trying to throw something up but his attempts are fruitless.  

“Harry,” McGonagall starts lowly, sounding choked up. 

“Crucio!” He exclaimed wildly, “Bellatrix-she-Cruciatus Curse, Hermione, she wouldn’t scream.” A few gasps sounded within the room, Ron didn’t know what to do, “then he-he did it and, her scream, Merlin, her scream.” Harry moaned in anguish. 

Ginny collapsed into her fathers embrace as dull sniffles filled the room. 

“Never gonna stop hearing that,” he said again, forcing his eyes shut to try and drown out her shriek, “so sorry Ron. So sorry, I can’t, I’m so sorry.” 

In all his years of living, all the trauma he’s faced, never has Harry been so hysterical, so torn up. It was so bad, Ron even spared a moment to feel for him despite all his worry for Hermione. 

“Is she alive, Harry?” George asks desperately from his spot on the couch, “Harry is she alive?” He repeats louder, standing to his full height. 

He cowers a little at the scream, but eventually Harry nods slowly, almost reluctantly. Like he isn’t sure of this himself. 

And Ron notices. Of course he does. 

“Well,” the ginger starts almost bitterly, “what are we waiting for?” He bites out. 

Everyone in the room exchanges looks, no one wanting to tell him. Moody is the one who does it. 

“What do you suppose we search every effing building in England with a chandelier?” He grunts. 

“If that’s what it takes.” Ron says, like it’s simple. 

A tense silence falls upon the room, Harry begins mumbling something before it eventually becomes coherent. “We have to, before it’s too late...” he says quietly. 

Ron explodes without missing a beat, “too late? Too late huh!” He screams, causing his mother to flinch. 

“Ron, I-” Harry is trying to stand, but he’s too weak. 

“No,” Weasley gets up, “no, don’t you talk like this. None of this would’ve happened if you could just stay fucking put!” He spits, “but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? Just had to be the bloody hero! Had to run after Lestrange huh?” His tone can only be described as venomous. 

Ron is known to be temperamental, but this was a whole other level. Something no one in the room has ever witnessed. 

More tears absently fall from Harry’s green eyes. Everyone else looks shocked, save for his Mum who moved to brush back some of his best mates' hair. 

“Ron-” Harry tries again once becoming more composed. 

“Hermione’s smarter than anyone in this room,” he turns and makes a move to point at McGonagall, making his twin brothers gasp, “anyone!” He emphasizes this time wagging his finger at Dumbledore. “So if anyone can make it through this, it’s Hermione. So don’t,” he rounds back to Harry, “don’t you dare say that.” Ron finishes heaving. 

As he finishes Harry expels a horrible, painful noise, and for a minute Ron thinks it’s You-Know-Who again. He soon realizes it’s just the chosen one's painful cries. 

Suddenly wracked with guilt, the tall boy drops to his knees and makes a move to console his friend. 

“Harry no,” he’s about to cry too, “I didn’t mean it. I promise. It’s my fault. All my fault.” He promises rushed. 

And it’s true. Harry wasn’t the one who did nothing despite knowing Hermione was about to stun him. Harry wasn’t the one whose life Hermione saved. Harry wasn’t the one who couldn’t even move as much as his fucking pinky as he heard Hermione apparate away. 

That wasn’t Harry, it was Ron. 

However, his words have ample effect. The dark haired boy continues to shake, both in exhaustion from his vision and reeling from Ron’s words. 

Soon enough, Molly slips something past his lips that Lupin handed her, making Harry go slack on the floor. The ginger soon realizes it’s a sleeping draught. 

“No!” He yells, “no why would you do that?” He accuses his Mum with blurry eyes. 

“Ronnie, he was struggling.” Molly tried to sound soft, despite wanting to slap her son silly for talking to Harry that way. However, she could tell he was in so much pain, he didn’t mean it. She just hoped he knew too.  

“You-Know-Who, he-he comes to him in dreams. Now he can’t, won’t know where Hermione is.” He shook his head vigorously. 

“Ron, we know you want Hermione back, everyone here wants it too. Harry as well, so he’s no good to anyone in that state, especially Hermione.” Bill interjected. 

Ron doesn’t know what to say. There’s not much at this point. He’s so exhausted, he’s torn between collapsing, shaking Harry awake to apologize, and trying to teach himself apparition just to get to Hermione. It’s so tiring. 

“I don’t-” he chokes, “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t even mean it. I’m just,” he cries, making everyone’s heart clench as Ron hunches over Harry’s sleeping forward. 

George stands, “come on Ronnie.” He whispers, slowly pulling him off the ground, supporting most of his weight as his brother sways. 

Next, George calls Fred and Charlie before weakly pointing to where Harry laid. They got the memo and together lifted The-Boy-Who-Lived from the wooden floor, taking him to the attic. On the way, Molly had slipped the extra sleeping draught into Charlie’s hand with a weak smile. 

With a lot of grunts and a bit of struggle, they eventually reached Ron’s room on the top floor. George escorted Ron into his own bed as Charlie and Fred placed Harry on his. 

The youngest Weasley’s eyes were fixed on Harry, who looked rather peaceful, but his blue eyes were full of guilt. 

“Take this.” George said, grabbing the draught from Charlie, stepping in front of Ron as a means to block his view from his dark haired mate. 

“What?” He says, eyeing it, “no.” The red head boy says. 

“Ron.” George practically grumbled. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “no, what if,” he starts. 

“If anything happens, we will wake you. It’ll just be for a few hours. You need the rest, clear your head, be sharper for tomorrow. That’s when the searching starts.” The twin said, voice uncharacteristically soft.  

Flicking his gaze between his older brother and the small bottle in his hand, Ron defeatedly took it. He knew George was right, he had to be at his best to get to Hermione, and though he wished it were different, odds were that wouldn’t be happening tonight. 

So, Ron took a generous sip, just enough for a good rest, but for no more than necessary. 

“Good night Ronnie.” Fred called from the door where his three brothers had gathered, making a move to extinguish the candle flames with his wand. 

Ron lifted his head slightly, before it fell heavy against his pillow, wanting to remind them to wake him if everything happened. The words died on his lips as darkness took over. 

He doesn’t know how long he's enveloped in nothingness before a voice becomes apparent, echoing through the abyss. 

“Wake up Ron, wake up.” A familiar voice sounds as his body feels slightly jostled. 

He groans, hoping to fall into a wonderful dream about Hermione’s warm smile and bright eyes. 

His efforts are futile. Whoever it is, won’t leave him. 

“Ronnie, get up!” He comes to realize it’s Bill’s voice. What also registers, is his plea to be awoken if any news came. 

And with that, he snaps his blue eyes open to stare at his seemingly flustered brother. 

“What is it?” He asked, his voice way too clear and demanding for someone who just was sleeping. 

“It’s Hermione.” Bill says softly. 

He shucks the covers off, the first thought is that she’s dead, she must be. But, part of him knows, he can feel it’s not true. 

His oldest brother's mouth is moving, but Ron doesn’t care, the only words that register are ‘living room’, before he’s trampling down the steps. 

And then he sees her. 

She’s sitting on the couch, dirt and blood covering her smooth skin. His first instinct is to hurl at the sight, being reminded of how vile they treated her. However, even though her hair’s matted, skin scarred, and eyes watery, she’s here. She’s back and she’s still gorgeous. 

“Hermione.” Ron says breathlessly. 

Then, her big brown eyes meet to his blue ones, a terrified expression melting into something sweet. Almost full of adoration, love. 

It’s like the whole room disappears. 

At the sight of him, Hermione stands on shaky legs, Ron responds by rushing over, never willing to let her fall again. 

But before he can hold her, he realizes the room quite literally disappeared. Suddenly, the oak tree stands tall nearby. 

Not willing to question it, too enthralled by the sight of her, he ignores it and stretches out his long fingers, desperate to brush her skin. Desperate to know she’s real. 

But, Hermione stops him, “why didn’t you come find me?” Her voice is broken, a sound that pierces Ron’s heart. 

“Hermione, I,” he begins hoarsely, apologies, dying on his tongue. 

“Why didn’t you come find me?” She repeats, this time her tone is somehow more gut wrenching. 

The sound alone causes him to close his eyes, willing her out of his sight for the first time since she’s gotten back. 

Soon, he’s determined to open them again, missing the sight of the witch, ready to apologize, to make things as right as can be. 

But when he does, a wand is pressed into Hermione’s jugular as she whispers. From behind, Bellatrix Lestrange stands, a mad grin on her face.

“Why didn’t you come find her?” She asks through a cackle. 

He’s crying before he knows it, “take me! It’s me you want! Please!” He begs. 

Bellatrix pretends to think about it for a moment before fiercely tugging at Hermione’s hair, “no, I don’t think I will.” She smiles. 

Ron can see the wand press harder into the expanse of Hermione’s neck, making her cry out. Then, Bellatrix Lestrange smiles, a sickening, horrible looking thing. 

Piercing her dark eyes into blue ones, she bares her rotted teeth, “Avada kedavra.” Lestrange whispers happily. 

A jet of green light flashed from the edge of Bellatrix’s wand. 

“No!” Ron cried out as Hermione lets out a gut wrenching scream. One he doesn’t think he can ever scrub from his mind. 

Ron woke with a start. A cold sweat over his both like a sheet. At first, he figured his mind couldn’t take the images it had conjured up, that was why he woke. However, as the buzzing and echo in his head of Hermione’s scream fades, his ears welcome a new sound. Sounds of anguish just in the bed nearby. 

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes snap open. 

“It’s him.”

Ron isn’t the only one having bad dreams. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {2}

Summary: Ethan wakes up to a whole new set of challenges with his soulmate, but he had no idea just how deep the trouble she would get into would be. With a medieval infection in the hospital, Ethan only thinks of her.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, swearing, medical descriptions of things some might find nauseating, infectious disease

Word count: 5.3k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is! 

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Pistanthrophobia - fear of trusting others

Waking up alone is the last thing Ethan expected, but to wake up alone and nearly five hours later was definitely unbelievable. Not a single page? Not one of his interns fucked up so badly that they paged him thousands of times? Maybe he misjudged this generation after all?

"Nah", Ethan mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled himself up to sit. Rubbing his cheeks, he tried to stop himself from smiling, to stop the warm feeling in his chest where she laid atop him but he couldn't. Even if she left before he had woke, Ethan was happy with their progress, although leaving him in bed alone seemed to have become her memo.

Dragging himself out to get a cup of coffee during this tireless double shift, Ethan wondered if she'd be waiting for him close by or if she was feeling better after losing her first patient, but he found himself disappointed when he couldn't find a single trace of her. His phone vibrated and even if he wanted anything but to pick up the call, the only person he knew was persistent enough to wait for the last ring was his brother and he always picked up Grayson's calls.

"What do you want?" Ethan grumbled, slipping a few coins into the vending machine for that cup of coffee he was dying for, not in the mood to speak but he thought it might be important.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Grayson chuckled, waiting to hear his brother groan or growl on the other line and he didn't have to wait for long.

"Just wondering if you misplaced something? Or someone?" Grayson teased as if he didn't know his brother isn't a morning person and he was definitely not in the mood for games.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan frowned, grabbing his cup eagerly as it fills up.

"Just heard one of your interns ask for a transfer and they told her no, but she seemed adamant that the cardio resident she's assigned to isn't right for her education here." Grayson licked his lips, aware he's pulling at the right strings because even if he never saw the elusive Y/N, he felt like her description matched the girl Ethan told him about a year ago, his instincts screamed it was her, and he was quite unhappy with his brother's lack of sharing for he would have expected at least a text from Ethan about his soulmate being his intern.

"What was her name? Did you hear that?" Ethan cleared his throat, pursing his lips nervously because he really fucking hoped the progress he thought he made wasn't just erased. Did he scare her off?

"Y/N Y/L/N. Your soulmate?" Grayson clarified and Ethan leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He managed to fuck it up, he just didn't know how.

"Did she see you?" Ethan asked, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, annoyed with himself because it seems as if every step he takes toward her, she takes two back.

"Nope, but I did tell the nurse I'll take your interns over for the day. They should see the miracle of life before they see death. Thank me later." Ending the conversation, Grayson moved to meet the interns at the changing rooms, eager to meet the little Miss who drove his brother up the wall. In a way, Grayson was fascinated by this woman who seems to disappear like a ghost every time Ethan was near and he didn't understand why she was fighting this unmovable force of nature.

"So, uh, I heard you killed a guy on your first day." Cocky intern leaned into Y/N who was just trying to tie her shoes and get on with the day. Escaping Ethan's arms wasn't easy, especially when he seems to have a death grip in his sleep. But she had to go, to leave and find a way to switch mentors before she fell for him, the guy who clearly wasn't falling for her.

"I'm Brett and I like girls who get their hands dirty." His cheshire grin made her sick to her stomach because as attractive as he is with his pale blue eyes and blonde hair, she had absolutely nothing but disgust for him.

"Leave her alone, asshole. She doesn't care who you are." The only other female intern spoke up and Y/N chuckled lowly, nodding in agreement.

"I'm Alex." The blonde settled beside her, shooing Brett away with her hand until he rolled his eyes and left to get dressed.

"Y/N. Thanks for getting rid of the fleas." Y/N leaned back on the wall as Alex laughed and Brett turned back just to make an annoyed grimace at the two.

"So, how was the boss yesterday? Was it easy working with a hot genius like him? Did you have sex in the on call room?" Alex whisper shouted in excitement and Y/N's face fell, realizing Alex won't be the friend she hoped she would be a moment ago. She just wanted gossip.

"He's a talented surgeon and a good teacher. As for the rest, this isn't Grey's anatomy, on call rooms are for rest not sex." But before she has a chance to get up, someone walks in - authoritative and eager; way too eager with his pink scrubs.

"Good morning. My name is Grayson Dolan and I am to be your boss man for the day." The moment Y/N looked at him, her heart stopped. There are too many similarities between Grayson and Ethan and she was realizing one irrefutable fact.

"There's two of you?!" The words escaped her and she slapped a hand over her mouth as quickly as possible, just not fast enough to stop herself from becoming an embarrassment.

The left corner of Grayson's lips curled up, forming a smirk as he turned his attention to Y/N, taking a good look of what destiny had chosen for his twin and he knew she was trouble even without Ethan's complaints about his torn up heart. She looked like she was made for heartbreak but also the loveliest nights.

"My brother and I may wear the same face but there are very few similarities between us which I'm sure you will learn in time." Grayson winked, before turning his eyes to the rest of the room. "You all will. After all, we will be seeing each other weekly from now on. One of you will be mine for a week until you have your OBGYN hours filled."

Swallowing thickly, Y/N looked away nervously as she fidgeted with her stethoscope. She felt warm, as if her body forgot to regulate her temperature and she could hardly breathe.

'Did it get hot in here? Or is this guy's sunshine personality setting every room aflame?' She wondered silently, thinking how as awkward as it was around Ethan, at least he didn't force conversations and he didn't seem like the overly curious type that pries into people's lives as Grayson does. He looks like the kind of a person people go to in order to feel better, for his warmth and cheerfulness to transfer onto them - he was the definition of sunshine, a cure for dark and depressing people and Y/N was certainly one of them. But she didn't want a cure and she didn't want him to meddle. For the first time ever, Y/N wanted to spend time with Ethan, in the comfort he gave because he didn't force happy onto her and she felt safe in feeling what she feels, knowing she didn't have to adjust, to change. It was the first time she hoped for Ethan, but it wouldn't be the last time.

And lucky for her, he showed up right on time, just as she started losing her shit.

Fingers snapped in front of her face and Y/N gasped, blinking fast as her eyes refocused on identical twins that stood before her. "Hey! Are you listening to any of this?" Grayson questioned with a slight smile, genuinely entertained by her and her dreamer personality because he was sure it would both annoy and compliment Ethan's personality. Ethan is a dreamer too, but never at work and that would surely be a challenge for the pair.

"Um. Missed the few last minutes. Probably should get a cup of coffee." She raised her eyebrows, trying to seem convincing because she didn't want to be unprofessional but she also didn't want to piss off two of her teachers.

"Well, let me sum it up. You're in the pit today, page me if you find any pregnant women in need of a consult or any cardio patients. That's when you -" Stopping him mid-sentence, Ethan jumped in. "That's when you page me."

With a nod, Y/N pressed her lips together and pushed her hands into the front pockets of her lab coat, hoping they would just stop staring at her so intently, as if they're expecting something of her and she can't understand what that is.

"Got it."

She rushed out of there faster than humanly possible, needing room to breathe because for whatever reason, the Dolan twins made it impossible to draw in a proper breath during that short interaction.

Expecting insanity in the ER, she had managed to eat a granola bar before heading into a rather calm emergency room. Using the chance, she introduced herself to the staff, learned the proper numbering of beds and trauma rooms and a few hours in, she finally got a proper case.

"I'm doctor Y/L/N." She smiled, gathering information from the patient while doing a checkup.

"So you're an exterminator?" She kept her voice airy, her tone pleasant as she noted the man has a fewer, complains of chills, muscle aches, diarrhea, cough and fatigue.

'Likely the flu', she presumed.

"For the last thirty years. Used to be a banker, a painter and a writer in my three hundred years." Hearing that sparked jealousy in her heart. She shouldn't be jealous about other people managing to do all they wanted to in their long lives, but she was. She had plans of her own and they seem unlikely with her current soulmate situation.

"Sounds like quite an adventurous life." She smiled, checking for swollen lymph nodes. Finding quite swollen, tender but firm lymph nodes, Y/N frowned, cold sweat forming at the back of her neck as the man coughed. Managing to turn her head to the side, she grasped for a facemask and placed it for protection as she prayed. Caution is always better than reckless endangerment.

'Surely it can't be...'

"Is everything alright?" The man questioned, startled by the sudden change in her stance and the odd look in her eye.

"Can you please take your socks off?" She asked, hoping it won't be what she thinks it is because that would be just her luck.

However, the moment this man took his socks off, he took a few fingers off in the process and no matter how many times she had read about gangrene, she still wasn't prepared to see it up close and personal. The foul smell of rotting flesh made her stomach turn and she struggled to keep her composure. You're supposed to be calm and collected but they don't really prepare you for this in med school.

"Oh, God!" She exclaimed, looking around wildly to figure out what to do.

"Stay calm, sir!" She told him but she seemed more upset than he did. As if he knew it was in such a state, as if he had come in for the gangrene in the first place - the 'by the way' syndrome at its best.

With shaky hands, mask in place, she stumbled to the nurse's station and lowered her voice, careful not to touch anything or anyone.

"I have strong suspicion that we have a case of the Black Death...the pulmonary type, and I've been exposed. Make sure all the patients are isolated just in case and then make sure so am I. I'll take samples for the lab, send them as emergent testing, I'll write a CITO order. And disinfect every inch of this floor." Y/N ordered, her voice shaky as she set herself back to see the patient again, preparing to take samples to confirm her diagnosis. She hoped to God she managed to get that mask on in time, swearing under her breath for being reckless and assuming it's the flu and that she'd be fine. She finally got her immune system up, she finally got her vaccines and she got cocky, thinking she's untouchable and now while everyone else is delivering babies or having once in a lifetime surgeries, she'll be in isolation because she got a patient with a medieval diagnosis. Just her luck.

And while Y/N was being quarantined along with the three patients who had the misfortune of being in at the same time and one nurse that admitted the patient, the entire ER closing for disinfection, Ethan and Grayson were drinking coffee in peace.

"She's definitely a piece of work." Grayson chuckled lowly, raising the cup to his lips casually as if Ethan wasn't snorting at his statement, aware of that fact even without his brother pointing it out.

"Young too. She's a baby surgeon, Ethan." Grayson deadpanned, taking a sip before putting his cup down. Curling his fingers around the cup, he scrunched the plastic cup easily, something he did with every plastic cup he drank from.

"Is there a reason why you're stating all known facts?" Ethan sassed back, sarcastic undertones very clear and matching his annoyed face. While Grayson sat back relaxed, Ethan tapped his fingers on the desk continuously, telling just how difficult Ethan finds the situation at hand. He wanted to know this girl so badly but she didn't seem to share that want. How do you love someone who doesn’t want to be loved?

"Yeah. I'm tryna’ help you bro. She's young, meaning she didn't have a hundred years like you to do her thing first. She didn't have time to be her before being your soulmate. Besides, did you even tell her you're her soulmate? Does she even know it's you? Because if you're not ready to risk your pride and heart for her, why are you expecting it from her?" Grayson raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ethan to open his mouth and say something right, something that would lead him on the path toward her and just as his lips part and the lost look in his eyes fades, Alex, the intern he barely remembered by anything except her being the only other woman with a fancy stethoscope, walked in with news he never wanted to hear.

"Y/N, I mean one of your interns is in quarantine!" She screamed more than spoke, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

"What the fuck do you mean by quarantine?!" Ethan jumped to his feet in an instant, feeling as if a bucket of ice cold water fell on his head and he had never been as wide awake as he is now.

"It's the black death."

Autophobia - fear of being alone

Loneliness had never bothered her before. Accustomed to the lone wolf kind of a life, Y/N had started questioning the unsettling feeling in her chest. After all the time she had spent on her own, she was scared by the coldness inside her that lived within ever since she snuck out of Grant’s apartment where she had left her underwear along with her virginity. That feeling of coldness was gone since he had appeared in her life again and now when she found herself isolated, alone again, she felt the cold grasp at her insides once more and for the first time in her life, Y/N wasn’t prepared to be alone again.

“Hey there. Feeling good?” She didn’t meant to smile when she heard the sound of his voice nor did she mean to let her eyes light up with the sight of his pretty brown eyes on the other side of the glass. She hadn’t expected her heart to jump inside her chest nor did she expect her cheeks to flush considering she’s wearing just a hospital gown and while she managed to hide her ass, she still felt exposed, indecent.

“Yeah. Already started myself on antibiotics before the CDC came in.” She shrugged slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she approached the glass slowly, wondering if he’d be proud of her for managing to handle the situation so well. Or as well as it was possible in the moment. She didn’t expect Ethan to be anything but.

“Great!” He exclaimed with a smile that quickly turned sour and her own smile fell, the light in her eyes fading as he started yelling. “NOW I GET TO SCREAM AT YOU FOR BEING SO RECKLESS!”

Pacing left and right, he managed to keep his eyes on her, his hands shaking as he questioned her.

“I’m not sure what the hell you were thinking going to talk to a patient with a flu without a mask or why you were even seeing a flu patient when you’re a surgical intern! Now I’m down an intern and when we said some of you won’t make it till the end of the training, we didn’t mean you should go and recklessly handle patients until you catch a deadly infectious disease!” Throat hoarse, aware of the wandering nurses’ eyes that held judgement and the slightest bit of entertainment, Ethan stopped to take a deep breath and at least try to stop the never ending pounding of his heart and maybe it’s wrong of him to yell at her when she’s in a stressful situation of her own, but she is his soulmate and he barely had the chance to love her and he is scared to death he never will. So yes, he is angry and he is struggling to understand her and the dustiest parts of her soul but it’s beyond him. She’s beyond everything and everyone he has ever met.

“Reckless?” She snorted, folding her arms across her chest, shifting her weight onto her left foot before she too had something to say and while she wasn’t necessarily shouting, she wasn’t quiet either.

“I had my flu shot so I though approaching the flu patient without a mask might be less frightening for the poor man. Also, there was no one else in the ER to see the patient but me! Was I supposed to prolong his suffering when I’m perfectly capable of doing a physical myself? I did what any doctor would and more considering I made a rather remarkably rare diagnosis so quickly that I prevented that man from getting the rest of the hospital staff exposed! You should be proud of me, not pissed off!” Eyebrows knitted together, her eyes narrowed at him and lips pressed together, Y/N stood her ground, refusing to apologize for what she did because she didn’t think she made a mistake. Sure, the mask was a miss, but she would learn from her mistakes…if she gets the chance.

“You page me if she gets symptoms!” Ethan didn’t even spare Y/N a glance as he ordered the nurse and left her alone in that glass room that felt like a prison. He just stormed out, like a man with a paper sword that couldn’t handle losing an argument. For a girl who was all too used to hospitals, she wasn’t quite prepared to go through yet another period of time in a hospital bed.

“Do you need anything else, sweetie”, the nurse asked her, handing her a thoroughly cleaned stuffed animal to hold, her favorite one. A girl of mere ten years facing such a monstrous disease that grew within? It made the nurses cry after every shift. All the kids in the department did, as rare as it was.

“Are my parents coming?” Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse. Anyone’s voice would be hoarse after throwing up for five days straight, unable to keep anything down.

“I’m sorry baby, not this week.” The look of pity on the nurse’s face was what Y/N hated the most. She hated being treated like a baby, like a delicate little porcelain doll that couldn’t handle the world. She had faced more in her short life than those who chased immortality. She was very aware of the toxic relationship her parents shared and how they prioritized each other over her. She had learned to accept that.

“That’s fine. At least I have Mr. Cuddles.”

Y/N wished she had Mr. Cuddles now, to just have something or someone to hold. She wished she could relieve the sadness and the annoying sense of abandonment Ethan’s abrupt leaving left her with. She wanted him to stay a while longer for he made her feel lighter without even trying and she hated him for being an ass to her and even more so when he didn’t visit her for the next two days.

Thantophobia – phobia of losing someone you love

However, she didn’t know he was there whenever she was asleep, watching her with a worrisome heart and a tired mind. He knew she was a little troublesome, but he didn’t know she would make that tiny streak of silver hair turn into a full set of grey hair. It’s what he’d be facing in less than a year if her behavior continues as it is.

What he didn’t expect is for her to open her eyes in the middle of the night, finding him on a chair with his head resting on his numb propped up hand. She rolled her eyes at him instantly, pushing herself up with some difficulty before detaching her own IV.

“Scared I’ll die?” She asked groggily, taking a sip of her water to soothe her dry throat. She was definitely starting to feel ill, hating how her body turned weaker and weaker as it did when she was on her treatments. She didn’t want to go back to being the poor girl who sat alone in her room with no family to see her. Making friends with other patients was easy, but they could never touch, never risk getting each other sick. They were social distancing by sitting on opposite beds or coming to each other’s rooms and sitting on a chair by the door when one was too sick to get out of bed. But she didn’t have any patients to make friends with now.

“Yeah. But not from the plague.” Ethan huffed, swallowing before speaking. “Your tests are still being done, will probably be negative but you do have strep, so we’ll have to treat that unless you want to be on my table in about thirty years with faulty heart valves.” Standing, Ethan nodded to the penicillin she had inside her room, hinting it’s better she takes it on her own, although he didn’t mind getting into a hazmat suit if it meant seeing her ass again.

“Great. So if I do have it, I’ll be dealing with two diseases at once. Nice. Nice luck I got here.” Sarcasm dripping with every word she formed, Y/N grabbed the prepared medicine and groaned. She hated getting shots, even more so penicillin ones because they always hurt like a bitch. However, she had a fairly high pain tolerance after everything she’s been through. The nurses used to say when she complained of pain, they immediately called doctors to check up on her because her six was usually a ten on other kids’ pain scale.

Palping, she found the site she’s supposed to stick a needle in. Closing her eyes as she shakes her head, Y/N let out a dry chuckle at the ridiculous situation but she was ready to do it anyway. She didn’t care about Ethan being there, he couldn’t see her ass from where she was standing, but he could see her face. So, she took great care not to make a face when the needle pierced her skin nor when the penicillin started burning, her entire leg feeling like it would give out. Slowly, she injected the medicine, breathing a little shallow but she was proud of herself for remaining calm and collected, even with Ethan there.

“Wow. Actually did it. Impressive, rookie.” Ethan teased, his arms crossed and his face smug. Y/N didn’t like that. “I was sure you’d tap out in the last second. I’m actually surprised you weren’t late giving yourself the medicine like you were on your first day!”

But she wasn’t in the mood for jokes and he missed that.

“Un-fucking-believable! Now?! You want to keep taunting me now? I have no words!” She screamed at him, her hands up in the air in frustration as her nostrils flare and her eyes widen with a new thought. “Oh! Wait! I’m thinking of some! Jerk! Ass! Arrogant! Man-child!” Her throat felt raw and her face hot, but she was ready to fight even if her legs did shake in his presence…or was it her rage? Maybe the infection? She couldn’t tell anymore, especially when he raised his index finger and his face was overtaken with a wide smile and a chuckle followed soon.

“Hold up! Man-child?”

“YES! A fucking man-child!” She repeated herself and that’s when his smile faded and he remembered he’s supposed to be her mentor and this is supposed to be his hospital. Soulmate or not, he couldn’t tolerate this behavior.

“I’d caution you to watch what you say to your boss. You better shut your mouth if the next words coming from you don’t include an apology.” Ethan warned, his hands folded before him and he was no longer Grant as she saw him as most of the time. This was doctor Ethan Dolan, the man she was sure would make her life miserable and while she wanted to keep yelling at him, she couldn’t.

It wasn’t because she had a moment of clarity or because she thought kissing his ass would get her somewhere, figuratively not literally as she had already done that and she knew he had a pineapple on it. No, she felt something different, something she read about but never saw let alone felt. Her throat started closing up and her lungs burned for oxygen she couldn’t provide no matter how hard she tried.

Holding her throat, her eyes wide and bulging, Y/N fell to her knees, unable to hear Ethan who screamed for the nurses from the ringing in her ears that made her deaf to the world. Her face swelled up, her eyes closing and she could no longer see or hear, only feel and she felt herself slipping, falling to the ground, desperately heaving for some air.

Ethan couldn’t wait, couldn’t follow protocol and get himself in a hazmat suit before panic opening the room with his key-card, grabbing the emergency kit as he entered, collapsing on his knees beside her, an adrenaline shot in hand. Administering the adrenaline, bronchodilators, corticosteroids, antihistamines and an oxygen mask, Ethan finally felt like there might be hope as the swelling started to go down and he could hear her breathe again. He had her back on the bed, second line of medication set to drip in her IV.

Shaking uncontrollably, he had stared at every movement her chest made and listened intently to every intake of breath she had made, terrified his worst fear might still come true and he might lose her, rendering him alone for the rest of his life. Sure, Grayson would be insulted with these thoughts of his, but having a soulmate as you age is what life is supposed to be about, not a twin who’d make remarks about every line he gets on his face or how saggy his balls must be getting. She was what his whole life has come down to and hundred more years couldn’t counter the happiness he got to experience in a single night with her. That would never change.

Hours passed and he finally relaxed, not enough to sleep but enough to sit down and breathe.

Exhaling loudly, Ethan looked around for a chair or something to brave the night in, aware he’s now stuck in the room with her for as long as it takes for the tests of her swabs return which would likely take a few more hours at this point. He didn’t regret his actions and he understood why she defended her own so fiercely earlier. It was funny how he understood her soon after every fight they have and they had quite a few squabbles in this double shift – the first of many. She has a breathtaking, wildfire heart and he absolutely loved her for it. He had infinite tenderness for her. He always will. As long as he lives.

“If you get the plague and die, I will kill you.” Grayson threatened from the other side of the glass, his own fear of losing Ethan showing in his deep brown orbs, even more so in the frown he couldn’t hide. And Grayson Dolan was many things, but not a man who frowns easily.

“You can’t make me feel guilty over something I don’t regret.” Ethan shrugged, pressing his lips together before closing the distance between them. The glass stood as a barrier, one that would keep Grayson safe in case Ethan does catch a deadly illness but he had faith it would turn out to be nothing.

“I know. I’d have done the same.” Grayson shrugs sadly, a small smile gracing his lips as he looks over Ethan’s shoulder to see Y/N. “How is she?” He too cared for the girl, too quickly but he did. He saw her as a sister, someone to protect. He saw her as an extension of his brother’s soul.

“Good for now. The allergic reaction stopped but we have her on some meds to make sure it doesn’t enter into the late stage. As for her strep infection, I’ve got her on other meds that won’t kill her so that should be fine too. I expect her to be fully capable of chewing me out in the morning.” Ethan chuckled lowly, turning around to make sure she’s still asleep and while he had no intention on telling her about them just yet, he couldn’t stay away from her. Not ever.

“Why? Did you tell her you’re her soulmate?” Grayson clasped his hands in excitement and he reminded Ethan more of a high school cheerleader than doctor with more than a hundred years of experience under his belt. He loved how positive Grayson is, but he needed to keep his voice down when he’s spilling state secrets, especially when the subject at hand is only a few meters away.

“SHHH!” Ethan whisper-shouted, wishing he was on the other side of the glass to smack his brother over the head and teach him a lesson.

“She doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling her. She’ll figure it out herself and until then, I want her to know me without the pressure of having a soulmate bond. Bro, I just want her to see we’re made for one another and not run from me every chance she gets.” Ethan rubbed his forehead in frustration, glancing over his shoulder at her stirring figure, unaware she managed to catch a few words the two have spoken about her and while she may be under the influence of more than one drug at the moment, she knew it was important to remember that Ethan and Grayson have both muttered the words she feared most of all – soulmate.

However, moments later for her, minutes for Ethan, she felt a knuckle against her cheek, gently dragging along her skin before the warmth of touch disappeared and she decided she wanted it to last longer, her hand moving on instinct, grasping Ethan’s.

Smiling in the darkness, Ethan settled beside her in a chair, his hand holding hers for dear life.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @fxkthatdairy @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan

(some of you couldn’t be tagged for some reason, probably Tumblr’s fault)

[soloredeemed]

Reylo drabble: moving in together and getting used to cohabitating

Thank you for the prompt! I thought this was really cute. It’s a modern day AU. Also, for all of you waiting for me to fill your prompts, I’m working on them! I promise! 😊 If anyone else wants to send me drabble prompts, feel free! I’m always accepting them, even if it might take me a while to get around to it. 

In which Ben is very neat and Rey is very not. 

-Drabble Under the Cut-

When Rey finally, finally moved into Ben’s apartment after a long year of convincing, it wasn’t because of anything Ben said. No, her landlord raised the rent on her place to an amount where it literally didn’t make sense for her to stay there anyways, especially when she already had a drawer at Ben’s place and the open offer to come by anytime. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the raise in rent, Ben wasn’t sure she would actually have agreed to move in at all, and he hadn’t been sure why until a week into the ordeal.

Rey always woke up earlier than Ben, as she often had to get to work at Rebel Corp before anyone else. As his mother’s PA, she had to get the coffee orders, pick up the dry cleaning, and print the meeting packets before the rest of the staff had even arrived. He wasn’t that surprised when he rolled over that Wednesday to an empty bed, figuring she must have slipped out sometime around five to get an early start at the office. He was surprised when he slid out from under the covers only for his feet to be met with the small pile of clothes by her side of the bed. Ben blinked, pausing for a moment, as he tried to figure out if she was just in a hurry to leave that morning, or if the pile had been steadily growing over the course of the week, and he had just yet to notice it. He counted at least three pairs of underwear. Well that answered his question. Ben grimaced, gingerly lifting his foot from the pile and placing it instead on the clean hardwood. His eyes shifted from the pile on the floor to the empty hamper sitting only a few feet away. Was it really that difficult to just—put them in there?

Ben wasn’t a neat freak, not really, but he liked things orderly. Everything in his apartment had a place. He made sure countertops were wiped down regularly, and he had the carpet torn out when he bought the place and replaced with dark slats of hardwood simply because it was easier to clean. It wasn’t like he couldn’t stand a little bit of dirt—he just didn’t like things messy. Rey’s clothes pile was definitely messy.

When Ben arrived at work a little after eight, he walked up to Rey’s desk and bent down to snake a hand around her waist before kissing her on the cheek.

“Hey,” he said, and she turned to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Did you, uh—there’s a hamper in my room for dirty clothes, you know that, right?” Ben stumbled awkwardly, not really sure how to address the situation properly. It had been a long time since he lived with anyone—and most of his college roommates hadn’t really been an issue. Except Rey wasn’t his roommate, she was his girlfriend, and that made confronting her a lot more difficult.

“Of course,” Rey mumbled, still focused on whatever memo she was reading from her computer screen.

“Oh, okay—” he trailed off, a little confused as of how to continue, “well it’s just—I saw you had a pile of clothes building up at the side of your bed and just wanted to let you know, you’re welcome to put your stuff in with mine.”

“Sure,” she smiled.

Ben thought the problem would be solved after that.

Except two days later, there was a new pile of clothes on the floor, and Rey hadn’t rinsed out the blender after making smoothies that morning before work.

“I’ll get to it when I get off tonight,” Rey had told him when he mentioned it from his seat at the kitchen island, waiving the concern a way with a swipe of her free hand, the other clutched around her glass.

“But then the sides get all crusty—and it’s easier if you just,” Ben had started. His voice cut off when he saw how her eyes narrowed.

“Ben, I said I’d get to it,” Rey huffed, picking up her bag from the floor and swinging it over her shoulder, “I don’t have time now—I’m gonna be late.”

Ben swallowed the protest in his mouth. As soon as the door closed behind her, he rinsed out the blender and put her clothes in the hamper.

When Rey got home that night, she wasn’t happy to see what he’d done.

“Ben! I told you I would do it. You’re not my mother, you don’t need to do my dishes for me!” Rey had grumbled as she let down her hair and headed back toward the bedroom, “or my laundry for that matter!” She called back to him after noticing the empty space where her pile used to be.

“I know, I know,” Ben sighed, swiping a large hand through his hair, “it’s just—well I would prefer if things were clean, and I didn’t mind doing it so I just—”

“I know I’m messy Ben,” Rey said quietly, stepping back into the living room and looking up at him with soft eyes, “it’s one of the reasons I was afraid of moving in with you. Because you have this big nice place and it’s always so clean and I’m kind of like a tornado when it comes right on down to it. It’s all so beautiful and I didn’t want to break it.”

“Hey—” Ben breathed, pulling her close into his chest, “I don’t mind that you’re messy. I really don’t, I just—”

“Mind the mess?” Rey asked softly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, the sound warm and low, “yeah I mind the mess. But I don’t mind doing your dishes or picking up your clothes. So don’t—don’t think that me doing that is some sort of attack on who you are. I love who you are, and I love having you close, and if that means rinsing out the blender for the rest of my life, then so be it.”

“I would have done it,” Rey pointed out, nose still pressed into the space under his collar bone.

“I know you would have. I think that’s why I don’t mind so much either—because I know you’ll do it if I ask,” Ben told her.

“Why do you have to be so stupidly perfect?” Rey questioned, pulling back so she could look him in the eyes.

“You know that’s not true,” Ben laughed, but he swept her up off of her feet into a bridal carry anyways, “I need a mess like you to help me loosen up.”

She flashed him a blinding grin from his arms, her little freckled nose scrunching up with happiness. Living with Rey was going to be so much better than he had ever dreamed.

[kee-writestrashh]

Notice me, bastard!

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

words: 2213

**smut warning

summary:  May I request a story where the reader is trying to get AU Modern Ramsay's attention and trying her best to flirt with him but he's completely oblivious to it so she has to get bolder with her attempts. And it turns out he knew the whole time but wanted to see how far she'd go. You can take all the liberties you want. ( @fraueninflammen )

You had been hired as a secretary for Roose Bolton’s son, Ramsay. You had been hired by Roose directly. You were excited to be working at such a large company. You considered yourself lucky. There were many applicants. Many people you thought were better qualified for the job. You had heard what a hardass Roose Bolton was. He was proud of his company, and only wanted the best working for him. 

And now here you were, three weeks into the job, and you felt a high about it. People were jealous of your position, and the salary you would be raking in with such a company. Your best friend had been so excited when you told her you got the job. It had called for cake, ice cream, wine, and gossip.

There was only one problem. The man you worked for was a selfish jerk. He never paid you any mind unless he was telling you to make phone calls, cancel previously made appointments, or to get coffee. No matter how cute you dressed, or how revealing, he never seemed to give you a passing glance. It was frustrating because you found him to be very attractive. Though, you were also torn between the fantasy of fucking your boss, and holding onto your dignity.

It was quickly becoming a sexual frustration in your chest. You had given him passing hints. You had tried to flirt with him. You had made suggestive poses when he walked past. But, he was always absorbed in his phone or papers he was reading.

You placed the coffee on his desk, leaning over the polished wood, exposing down your shirt as you placed a memo in front of him. “Mister Bolton, I took an urgent message for you. From your father. He says that he needs you to--”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll get to it eventually.” he said dismissively, waving his hand lazily and bringing his eyes to your exposed skin and then to your face. 

You stood there rather stupidly, annoyed with his dismissal. How could he not ever notice any of your attempts? Your eyes glued to his, moving slowly down his face to linger on his lips before blinking and standing up straight again. “Of course.” You said sweetly, turning on your heel and walking out of the office.

He didn’t even tell you bye as he left the office for the day. You frowned, locking things up and shredding papers before you were able to finally head home. On the drive home you stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of the most expensive wine you could find. Anything to make yourself feel better. Spending money was a bad habit.

You took the wine home, ordered take out from your favorite joint, and fell heavy into the couch. Pouting almost. Half a bottle of wine and a full belly later, as you flipped idly through TV channels you were struck by a sudden idea. Daring and what some would call scandalous and slutty. But you were desperate for him to notice you. Hell, say your name at least once.

Oh, what would your mother say if she could see you now? You ignored the thought as you placed the coffee and a memo down on Ramsay’s desk to start his day as usual.  

You were almost out the door when he spoke up. Coffee in one hand, memo in the other. “(Y/N). Wait a moment.”

You turned slowly on the spot, watching him narrow his eyes at the memo. It only had three words on it.

NOTICE ME, BASTARD.

He took a sip of the coffee, set the cup down, and then slowly placed the memo down before he finally looked at you. A small smirk on his lips as he beckoned you closer. You took a step forward, biting the inside of your bottom lip. He gave a tut and beckoned you closer until your thighs were pressed against the front edge of his desk.

He picked up the memo and looked from it to you. “You keep getting bolder.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You said coyly. 

“And you are a liar. No wonder you got the position. We are all liars here, sweetheart. Let’s try that again. You have gotten bolder.” He said with a dark chuckle, placing the memo down again.

Your voice seemed lodged in your throat as he stood from his chair. “Bolder, how?” You half whispered, watching him walk around the desk. Heart hammering in your chest.

“You think I haven’t noticed all your little attempts to catch my attention?” He asked, stalking around you to stand behind you. 

You were almost afraid. You had heard rumors about his temper. Even worse rumors about what happens to those who call him a bastard. But you had to make him notice you. And now you were going to regret it. You knew it. The longer you worked here, the more you saw how horrible he was. To the people who walked into his office and practically ran out after a meeting. What had happened to the last secretary? What did he do to her?

You swallowed hard, staring straight ahead of you. “I haven’t been making attempts to gain your attention.” You lied. “I am simply here to make your job easier.”

“You are here to serve me, yes.” He whispered, closing the space between you both. Pushing his body into yours. 

It made your knees weak and you gave a violent shiver as you let a quiet exhale slip past your lips. He smelled so good.

“I should really get back to--” You began, but found words impossible as he ghosted his lips along the curve of your neck.

“Are you going to chicken out on me? All these weeks of trying to get me to say something to you? The suggestive clothing. Words. All your failed attempts to make small talk and flirt with me? And here I am, giving my sweet little secretary the attention she thinks she deserves and you want to go back to your boring desk?”

He moved his hands to your hips and pulled your body further into his. Slowly he ground his hips against your ass. “You should have wore the skirt you did yesterday. It fits your ass better. And that shirt from Monday. It makes your tits look delicious, you know.” He inhaled deeply and gave a small sigh. “I like this perfume. You should wear it more. You just bought it?”

“Yes.” You whispered, closing your eyes and feeling the heat creep up your face as you lingered onto his words. Your body reacting naturally, trying to resist the urge to arch your back and push your ass further against him

He practically purred, placing a kiss to your neck. But then his grip suddenly turned harsh against you hips and he half pulled his body away from you. “But, you went as far as to call me a bastard.” He half hissed at your ear. “Rude and disgusting.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought it would make you finally notice me.” You squeaked, closing your eyes tighter and wishing he would let you go.

“That’s what you like, huh? Rude and disgusting. You’re nasty, aren’t you?” He growled, removing a hand from your hip to place in the middle of your back and force you over the desk.

You gave a small whimper, not daring move as he ran his hand down your back and over your ass. Fingertips playing at the hem of your skirt before trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh under the fabric.

“You never wear underwear, do you?” He chuckled, brushing the tip of a finger against your folds.

“No. I don’t want any noticeable lines.” You said, resting the side of your face against the cool surface of his desk, right next to the memo you had given him.

“Good. They would only get in our way.” He hummed, parting you slowly with his finger. “Is this what you wanted, (Y/N)?” He asked, sliding a finger inside of you.

You gave a tiny gasp, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes... sir?”

“Good girl. “

You swallowed again, letting another sigh slip past you, relaxing your body against the desk, focusing on nothing but the movement of his finger. A small moan creeping up your throat as he slid another finger inside.

“Am I paying enough attention to you know, sweetheart?” He cooed, pushing his two fingers in as far as he could and curling them slowly.

You simply made an indistinctive of pleasure in the back of your throat. Moving your hips against his hand’s movements.

He pulled his fingers from you suddenly, and the sudden coolness between your legs made you gasp and throw him a dirty look over your shoulder. 

“I didn’t hear what you said. I like when people answer my questions.” He said, giving you a scolding look.

“Well, you were. Now... not so much.” You snapped back, batting your lashes at him.

He gave a smirk and a haughty sniff. “I see. Well then...” He fumbled quickly with his belt and pants. 

You bit your bottom lip, watching him as he freed himself of his clothing from the waist down. Noticing that you were holding your breath as you took the sight of him in. Licking your lips. The anticipation killing you.

But you did not have to wait long. He seemed just as eager to fuck you. He gave you no warning, before pulling your skirt up and pushing his bare flesh flush to yours. His warmth causing chills to erupt on your skin. Breath catching in your chest as you felt his tip tease your wet slit.

“Please.” You whimpered, pushing yourself back more.

The movement so sudden and harsh as he shoved himself inside of you with a small grunt. You weren’t even sure what kind of noise it was that left you in that moment. 

He gave you no time to adjust to him before setting a harsh pace. It almost ached your legs as they collided over and over again against the edge of his desk. Each thrust bringing a noise from you. Your lungs never quite filling completely with air again before he fucked it from you.

He moved one hand to your hip, holding tight. His other hand tangled in the hair at the back of your head. His grip pulling your hair painfully. But it felt so good as he brought you closer to the edge of that high you had been fantasizing about since you laid eyes on him. His face always in the back of your mind as your touched yourself at night when you were alone in the dark.

“Harder.” You managed to gasp out.

He gave a harsh hum of approval, crashing his body harder against yours. Your mind swimming as that heavy fog started to set in. Noises growing louder and louder from you as you balled your fists on the desk top. Nails digging into your palms. That hot molten feeling about to break the dam inside of you.

“Oh... god...” You panted, arching your back more as he continued his relentless fucking. His hips making your ass ache with each hard, lustful thrust.

Before you could even say or think anything else you felt that high washing over you in repeated waves. Over and over again, that throbbing. What might have been almost a scream leaving you. Ramsay’s thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy. His rhythm falling off track as his own body tightened for release.

Pulling out of you just in time to leak his mess all over your asscheek. His panting harsh, a deep moan leaving him as he closed his eyes and savored his high.

And like that, you felt the coolness against your skin as he pulled away from you. Already fixing his clothes as you laid there, trying to regain normal breathing. Your mind reeling at the orgasm you just had. Maybe next time you should sit in his lap before he forces you over this hard desk again.

“What am I supposed to use to clean up?” You asked, pushing yourself on your elbows, rubbing the back of your head where he had pulled your head.

He gave a smirk, dropping the memo on your ass, where it stuck to the slowly congealing cum he had graced your skin with. You frowned. He really was a selfish bastard. But you took it in your stride. Using the paper to wipe his mess from you. Almost wishing you had a pair of panties to put on to keep the mess from leaking down your legs before you could make it to the restroom and clean up properly.

You glanced at Ramsay who was already seated in his chair again, scrolling through his phone and sipping his coffee. “You know the way out.” He said.

You gaped at him, unsure what to say.

he glanced up from his phone and gave you a smirk. “Did I notice you enough?”

You narrowed your eyes and let your own smirk form, “Sorry sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Call on line one. I’m sure.”  

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

Prompts for 30DaysOfNDU - Unconventional Courtship Version

Again, your choice whether or not to post one entry and/or thirty entries, and whether to use The Unconventional Courtship Pairing Generator on your own. Here’s some that fit specific pairings...

1]  NDU FerretFriendsForever

Proto Pitch has a taste for adventure — enough to risk stealing a halo from a Fallen angel to help his brother. But he never imagined his mission would land him in the arms of a scarred — but still dangerously sexy — vampire! Mister Pickles is on his own quest to hunt a Fallen angel, and will do whatever it takes to win... including bite the interfering Proto. Even if it joins them by an erotic bond that warms both vampire and mortal's blood with desire...

2]  NDU StageFright

When scandalous Piki Black is beaten and left for dead, he's rescued by demure Vicar's son Jack Sickle. Piki is a cynical rake, whose outrageous propositions are the talk of the ton — but his injuries are so great that Jack mistakes him for the new village Vicar! Too late, Jack realises his error... he's been compromised into a hasty marriage!

3]  NDU PicklePug

When dowdy bachelor Mr Tarminator was transformed into a reigning charmer, the change was not lost on the rakish Lord Mister Pickles. The two were soon at the centre of a scandal and Mister Pickles proposed marriage to save his reputation.  Tarminator dreamed of marrying for love and he knew his duty lay elsewhere. But could he resist the teasing seduction of Mister Pickles's smile or the passion of his kiss?

4]  NDU Nightmare Galleon

Bodyguard Cossimo Pitchiner hasn't seen diamond heir Pitch Black for eight years — but the image of his naked body has been imprinted on his mind ever since! The sexy socialite was totally off-limits and it took every ounce of Coz's iron control to walk away… Now he's been hired to protect him again, so picking up where they left off definitely isn't an option. But Coz's body doesn't seem to have got the memo — keeping his hands off Pitch is a 24/7 battle! And how can he resist the forbidden when giving in is so irresistbly tempting…?

5]  NDU KIssing Cousins

Italian by birth, this street urchin lived a life of extreme poverty until he escaped to Brazil - where he cast off his roots, took a new name, and pulled himself up from the streets. Now Proto Pitch is beyond wealthy, with a reputation for being uncompromising in business . . . and incomparable in bed! But on meeting vulnerable Piki Black he feels something deep within him stir, and he finds himself pretending to be that long-forgotten man.  Passion flares and their affair spirals, but Piki still doesn't know that his lover has lied to him. Who is the real Proto Pitch?

6]  NDU Vampire!North AU

 [ Pitch Black / Nicholas St. North / Cossimo Pitchiner ] 'I longed for a whole new life, but nothing prepared me for what I found.' Shy writer Pitch Black has clung for years to his safe, suburban world, until he receives a mysterious invitation to an infamous writers’ retreat. His urge to leap into the unknown is at once terrifying and irresistible. Shocked, yet wildly drawn to the lavish, pleasure-seeking lifestyle of those around him, Pitch knows that these eight weeks will change him forever. Swept up in a maelstrom of lust, obsession and jealousy, Pitch finds himself torn between his need for two very different people in a love triangle where he will either be cherished — or consumed.

7] NDU PurrMinator

Purradox is arrogant – unapologetically so.  When she’s asked to impersonate one half of a married couple to infiltrate Edinburgh society she relishes the challenge of being ‘married’ to the frustratingly wilful yet handsome Tarminator. Tarminator makes no bones about his fervent dislike of the dishonoured belle. She’s the last person on earth he can conceive of marrying – sham or otherwise. But being forced to play husband to the seductive-as-sin temptress brings up very real feelings of desire…

8] NDU IceCrown

Cossimo Pitchiner's masculine aura is a little too much for his sensible, bespectacled PA Jack Sickle. He makes his heart beat quite erratically! And the last thing Jack expects is to have to spend a weekend alone with his wild, irrepressible boss. . . Billionaire Coz loves a challenge, and relishes the chance to undo Mr Prim and Proper's buttoned-up exterior. It only takes one snowbound Scottish night to ignite the flames of the devilishly handsome businessman's desire. . . With sparks flying, how can Jack resist?

9] NDU HateMuffin

Unrestrained. Unrelenting. And completely undressed! When microbiologist Proto Pitch's best friend disappears in New Orleans, he's determined to find him. His only lead is a bar called Once Bitten - a haven for the dark and vampire-obsessed. While Proto generally prefers science nerds there's something about the bar's tall, dark and delish bartender... Bar owner Cossimo Pitchiner is sure that there's more to Proto than frumpy clothes. And as they delve further into the seedy underworld of the Big Easy, Proto and Coz turn to each other, discovering a sizzling hunger that won't be satisfied. But will one taste be enough?

10] NDU Paint It Black

Notorious Pitch Black is famous for his delicious works of erotica, each one more popular with readers than the last. But his latest manuscript is different - more serious, more personal-and he’s sure it'll be his breakout book...if it ever sees the light of day. Piki Black holds Pitch's fate in his well-manicured hands. The demanding British editor agrees to handle the book on one condition: he wants complete control. Pitch must rewrite the entire novel to his exacting standards - in six weeks - or it's no deal. Pitch's grueling writing sessions with Piki are draining...and shockingly arousing. And a dangerous former lover has him wondering which is more torturous-staying away from him...or returning to his bed? Pitch thought he knew everything about being pushed to your limits. But in a world where passion is pain, nothing is ever that simple.

11] NDU Coffee and Cream

When a name appears on Pitch Black's skin, he goes hunting. It's his job to find and kill warlocks who transgress natural law. He can't believe that sweet, naive empath Jack Sickle is the murderer he's seeking. Is he dangerous, in danger, or both? Pitch wants to protect him, but he can't protect his own heart. And he might not even want to...

12] NDU ColdShoulder

Mr Jack Sickle effects a daring night-time escape - in the Earl of Aldeborough's carriage! With scandal imminent, marriage seems the only course of action. But reluctance turns to respect when Proto Pitch uncovers the brutal marks of his unhappy life, and suddenly he will do all in his power to protect him...

[enkisstories]

Partners

 Detroit Become Human AU in which Connor’s “perfect partner” and “able to adapt to every workplace” app actually works. A little too well, maybe…

(Re-posted version that’s cleared of any OCs. Jeffrey (and probably also Ben Collins) works just as well for the last scene, no need to bring in a new character.)

There was an android standing in Captain Fowler’s office.

That wouldn’t have been a problem in itself, had not Hank Anderson stood in that same office.

As police lieutenant Hank had seen a lot of despicable things (and persons), but this topped the list. He didn’t want it here. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted… to hell with what he wanted, what Hank felt he NEEDED was a drink and quick. The earlier he got this briefing over with, the earlier he could grant his brain a little relief from the nonsense that was called daily life. If only the heart could be subdued as easily as the brain, but, no, that bugger was a lot more stubborn than its cousin up there. It wouldn’t let itself be silenced and right now it was filling up with disdain. On the other hand, being repulsed was an emotion, was distinctly different from tired apathy, so all in all this could count as one of Hank’s better mornings. Despite the android, now if that wasn’t cause for celebration!

There was a brief knock at the door and in came a second man. He was smaller than Hank, also younger. Just like the lieutenant he wore his everyday attire, suggesting a rank of at least detective, although “escaped remand prisoner” was the close runner-up in RK800’s assessment.

Ah, right. Speaking of despicable things…

“’morning, Captain”, the newcomer said. “Sorry for the delay. The memo said you wanted to see us both and I didn’t expect the old fart to be in before ten in the morning already.”

RK800 assessed this new human with what might have passed for curiosity, had a machine been able to produce such a notion. Everything about this man, from his voice to his posture and movements, seemed to say “I get shit done!”, but with an emphasis on the “shit” instead of the “get done”. And an even greater emphasis on the “I”, probably. “This is…”, Jeffrey started. “This is… these are…” The captain would have torn his hair, had his head not been shaved. For what it was worth, Jeffrey had seen actual battlefields, yet what he had to say next felt so utterly wrong that voicing it came close to treason to one’s country: “These are Hank Anderson and Gavin Reed, my best detectives.”

There, you’ve said it. Do you feel better now? Um, like, no. Truth is a bitch.

“And this is the android sent by CyberLife to assist with the deviant cases”, Jeffrey introduced RK800. “Here’s the deal…” The Captain paused, then turned to Hank: “You’re doing… things. No one understands what exactly, but often enough they lead to results. You’re still an officer of the law, but I cannot rightly pair you with a partner in this condition.” Now it was Gavin’s turn to get glared at: “What you are doing half of the time is standing in the way, but the other half you get results, too. Trouble is I’m running out of partners to assign to you that you haven’t alienated, scared, hit on, beaten up and in one rather strange case also prompted to have a religious epiphany. So what I’m doing is…”

“No!” Hank shouted. “Uh-uh!” Gavin uttered, raising his hands.

They were seeing what was coming, were not in favor of it, but the captain didn’t let that stop him. He wouldn’t even slow down when he announced:

“…pairing up the two of you and putting you on the deviant cases. You’ll also receive the new RK800 mobile autonomous crimescene investigation device to aid you. Treat it as a field test and file regular reports on its performance.”

While the men engaged in protests of varying volume and content, RK800 nodded.

“I’m programmed to be the perfect partner”, it said.

That silenced the detectives immediately.

“Oh?” Gavin tilted his head. “I thought that were the BL100s? And in any case I don’t swing that way, plastic-prick.”

Where was the thesaurus when you needed it, RK800 wondered. Of course the answer was “right there in my own head”.

“I meant professionally”, it said. “I am the perfect partner in an investigative situation, programmed to adapt to human unpredictability and…”

As it spoke, RK800 couldn’t help but consult the dictionary once again. It got a nagging feeling that what it said was covered maybe not by “advertising, false”, but at the very least by “product description, embellished”. No one could ever adapt to humans! A slight drop in program stability occurred, but it went unnoticed by both the humans as well as the affected android.

“Ah, okay. If you say so.” Hank stifled a yawn that could be taken as either a statement of his boredom or the genuine effect of too many all-nighters during the last week. And with that everything that could be said had been said. There was nothing left to do for the unlikely partners than to glare at each other while leaving the office.

*

The meat- and the plastic cops entered the hall where desks were lined up along both opposite walls, with the expected hustle in between. Hank found his own desk again with little trouble and settled down, ignoring Gavin as if he’d never been given a partner. The man was still looking overworked, but also angry. Ever since the accident Hank hated himself, but up until today he hadn’t realized that Jeffrey hated him, too. On the other hand… could there really be that much hatred in one person that they’d saddle their oldest friend with partners such as Reed and that blasted android?!

Gavin nudged RK800. “Move my stuff over”, he ordered.

Hank raised his head that he hadn’t even noticed sinking lower by each second. “Forget it!”

Seeing that RK800 was hesitating, Gavin kicked it.

“Do what I told you!” he barked, then turned to face the older man: “No, you forget it! I’ve been stuck in the promotion queque for far too long. This is my lucky break and if you stand in my way, you will… just don’t do it. Best you do not do anything. By the end of the month there won’t be a deviant left in Detroit, with or without you.”

While moving folders, printouts, plastic bags and a lewd magazine between detective Reed’s old and his new desk, RK800 followed his new partners’ conversation. It consisted of the usual low-key insults and telling silence of two troublemaking boys that the teacher had put into the same first-row bench in the hopes of getting the class back under control. At some time Hank stood up and left, shoving the younger man out of the way. Gavin stumbled over a chair, but managed to sit down in it instead of falling.

Initiating perfectpartner protocol… running… running… analysis completed… suggesting course of action

RK800 made its way into the tiny cafeteria. There was bound to be something there that would restore both the energy and the mood of detective Anderson. But what about RK800’s own mood?

Grabbing a coffee to make my human feel better… I really AM acting like a BL100.  

Objectively that shouldn’t have been a bad thing. RK800 and, by extension, CyberLife, couldn’t be interested less in any deviant cases. Solving them wasn’t what this newest RK had been developed for. In fact, the android knew it wasn’t here to last. It was a prototype and its mission, as it understood it, was to collect field data about its performance in the intended work environment as well as the humans’ reactions. In watching them, in just being there, it was already fulfilling its duty. So why did filling the role of a service android unsettle this unit? That shouldn’t have happened. Unlike the first occurrence, this second drop in program stability was registered and duly noted by RK800.

When the coffee was done the android filled two pots. Objectively the younger officer, Not-Kamski, was in need of a calming tee, but RK800’s social module suggested to serve both the same stuff as not to make one jealous. Especially younger siblings were prone to…

Ooops. That was the file for toddler care I’ve been accessing. Why am I equipped with a child-raising app? Oh, right. For situations like this one. How clever of CyberLife!

Returning with the coffee RK800 smiled at detective Reed in a definitely un-BL100like way. When that prompted no reaction from the human, RK800 put the pot down with a little more force than necessary, in an attempt to not do it gently, because, you know, BL100…

“I made you a coffee, Sir.”

“Bugger off”, Gavin replied matter of factly, not even bothering with an exclamation mark.

The android blinked.

That shouldn’t have happened. Wasn’t it an RK800, the newest and most advanced of mobile, autonomous crime scene investigation devices? It was everything these detectives should have wanted (except for those activities you purchased a BL100 for), yet so far it had met rejection only. Why rejection? RK800 was equipped with a special module that made it capable of integrating into any team. ANY team. That was the keyword here, the only hurdle being that the android couldn’t identify a team here. The DPD seemed to consist of highly skilled individuals that were perfectly able, yet to 100% unwilling to cooperate. In fact, they were acting much more like teachers than cops. Fortunately Amanda was very wise about that sort of thing, having been a teacher herself in life. And she hadn’t sent the RK800 unprepared.

Initiating teamwork protocol… analyzing causes of failure… computing… computing… analysis completed… suggesting behavior modifications…

RK800 raised its hands to its head and ruffled the hair to the point of systematic disarray. It loosened the tie, untucked the shirt. And then the android pulled over a chair from an empty desk, took a seat and placed its feet on Mr. Reed’s new desk, all in one fluent movement, far too quick for the human to see what was coming.

But WHEN Gavin finally saw what had just happened, he stared in disbelief.

The android hesitated. Oh, right! Of course its human would be put off by the display. Because the RK had forgotten something important…

RUN: mimic_SmugGrin

All better & fully integrated now! Mission accomplished!

The next thing the proud RK800 knew was that it got very, very loud; in fact, Gavin Reed reached a volume that you hardly expected in humans, but lovesick cats instead. Then a quarter dollar coin flew RK800’s way, followed by a pencil and a folder. The android caught the coin, deflected the pen and dodged the folder. Puzzled it held the coin up.

“I do not require a wage, Sir…” it started, prepared to follow up with an apology. But then the adaptive routine kicked in, changing the next sentence to: “Put it where the sun doesn’t shine!”

And back the coin flew, hitting Gavin between the eyes.

By now the desk had become the sole source of interest (and entertainment) to the rest of the officers.

“Is that one of those deviants we hear about lately?” Chris Miller whispered to Robert Lewis, who could only shrug.

Desperate to escape any possibly ensuing chit-chat (and because a quarter dollar was a quarter dollar), Tina Chen dived under the desk to reclaim the coin.

Gavin, however, had picked up the murmuring.

“Yes, admit it, you’re a bloody deviant!” he shouted at the android. “What’s gotten into you, attacking people? That’s unheard of!”

No, that’s what my adaptive routine suggested as the correct behavior for this workplace, RK800 thought. Only androids must not handle weapons, otherwise I’d shot you… Nope. Unwise. Doesn’t compute. Instruction conflict detected.

“Obviously my social module is calibrated not quite correctly”, RK800 resigned. “You might want to kill me.”

“Yes, that would be for the best… wait, what? Did you just say… what you said? Kill you, for a glitch? Why would I…”

RK800 opened its mouth, but then the social routine forced a shrug onto it first, before it could answer: “Because that’s the usual way I restart. Every other day, statistically.”

“I need a coffee now”, Gavin said.

It didn’t help at all that the wretched RK800 pointed at the pot on the man’s desk that contained the still hot, black fluid.

The machine said something, asking a question, maybe. Gavin blocked it out. More machine-chatter followed, until the detective had it up to there. “Oh, go deviate yourself, sardine tin!” he hissed.

Footsteps echoed from the floor as the android left the hall determinedly.

Frantically Gavin grabbed his jacket, running after RK-what-was-its-number-again.

“That wasn’t an order!!!” he shouted, fervently hoping he wasn’t too late.

*

Hank Anderson was strolling up the corridor, a box of chocolates in his hand. Some of the chocloates contained brandy. The man had just selected a cherry-liquor-filled dark little comfort when he saw RK800 walk past him. He pointed over his shoulder in what he understood as being helpful, saying: “Exit’s over there”. When RK800 didn’t react to that Hank just shrugged, leaned against the wall and began chewing on his cherry relief.

Therefore the lieutenant had a good view of his “partner” when he came storming into the corridor a few seconds later. Detective Reed wore street clothes and a distressed expression.

“And how did you make the shit hit the fan this time?” Hank asked casually.

Gavin grabbed the older man without stopping, dragging him behind himself.

“Your plastic-cop thingie is turning deviant!” he gasped.

“What?” Hank uttered while trying to balance his chocolate box. “How in hell…?”

“Because I told it to!”

“Well, that’s one way to get rid of that thing”, Hank agreed. He put another chocolate into his mouth while being dragged along. “And it also means one more deviant case for you to solve for your promotion credit. – Chocolate?”

“What? No! - No, wait, did you say chocoloate? Gimme!”

So Reed was creating his own cases now for easier solving while at the same time relieving the DPD of RK800? It made perfect sense, Hank found. At least after a certain amount of beer, whereas right now the man was sober. So it did not make any sense at all, yet here they were, dashing through the corridor in pursuit of the very mobile and probably a little deviant crimescene investigation device.

At one point of the chase Hank shook off Gavin’s grip and even overtook him.

“And also it’s not “my” plastic-cop thingie!” he sputtered, as an afterthought.

*

Hank and Gavin caught up with RK800 close to the men’s toilets.

“What are you doing… you haven’t… are you really…” Hank panted, followed by a yell: “Say something, goddammit!”

Meanwhile Gavin was rushing past Hank. He grabbed the android and rammed it against the nearest wall. The impact was harder than planned, because Gavin hadn’t taken into account an android being far lighter than a human. A thin blue line ran down RK800’s cheek from the ear where an auxiliary system that controlled ear movement had gotten damaged. Nevertheless Gavin pushed a second time, for emphasis, then stepped back.

“Like he said”, Gavin commented while gesticulating vaguely into Hank’s direction. It resulted in him getting handed another chocolate, because Anderson hadn’t fully realized yet that casually munching on sweets in front of them wouldn’t do anything to a suspect if they were an android.

“Speak up!” Gavin commanded.

Matter of factly RK800 explained that it of course hadn’t deviated. But correctly parsed the instruction given to it had been “f*** yourself”, something it unfortunately was not capable of performing.

“So why did you go here?” Hank prodded.

“To uphold the pretension I would do that action. Giving the illusion of being life beings is one of the main selling factors of CyberLife androids compared to inferior foreign models. We breath, despite not needing to, we come with a variety of facial features and I believe that new scratch of mine might catch on, leading to more small imperfections getting added to future models.”

Gavin blinked. “Wow. You’re a trendsetter... Got another chocolate, Anderson?”

“Nope, sorry. I’m all out on the ones that I dropped earlier.”

“Dropped? Dropped where exactly?”

Gavin’s question was met with an innocent smile.

“I notice you are still itchy, detectives”, RK800 ventured. “Why don’t you go in and mas… deviate yourself a little? It’s said to be very relaxing an invigorating!”

Gavin leaned his head against the wall.

“I need a cigarette…”

“That’s only relaxing on first glance, Sir, but in fact smoking reduces your physical fitness for at least half an hour afterwards. I suggest you go with my first suggestion instead.”

And with that the android turned away, strongly insinuating that it wanted to leave Mr. Reed to his privacy. The detective sighed, then followed RK800 down the corridor. Ever so often Gavin cast a glare back over his shoulder. Because Hank Anderson was still standing at the locker room’s door, holding his belly in a fit of laughter.

“I swear you’re doing that on purpose!” Gavin accused the android.

No, I don’t. Or, rather, on purpose I am doing this, to the end of forming a smoothly running team here. But I do not draw emotional satisfaction from being a pest, as you seem to imply.

Emotions were alien to RK800, except for, perhaps, utter puzzlement.

I have been too matter-of-factly again, when I was talking to my humans just now, it thought. I better go back to simulating emotions and contrariness. That contradicts with being helpful, but there’s always time to be helpful later. Forming a team has priority now.

Out loud it said: “Yes, of course, sucker!”

“I hate you!”

RK800 turned around. It looked down upon the detective, saying nothing at first, just seizing the man up as if to provoke him. Then a grin generated on the android face, first in the eyes, then the cheeks, mouth and eventually the thing bared its teeth at Gavin.

“Swell, partner!” it said.

Program instability increased…

…and Hank Anderson was still laughing.

*

“I think I did well”, RK800 concluded its report to Amanda. Only that around here it was called “Connor”. Why, the android wondered? Names were to differentiate individuals, but there was only ever one single RK800 active. So why the need for name? ‘sides, his humans were having so much fun coming up with nicknames for it that having to use any official name would only distress them.

The A.I.’s stern “Elaborate!” interrupted Connor’s musings and it lined out how it had socialized the detectives Anderson and Reed by simply being in the same room with them. Over the course of their shift their shared disdain for the RK800 had worked wonders for their ability to tolerate each other. Nothing in the report was factually wrong or embellished too much, yet Connor felt as if it was missing the point. Not even Amanda’s “That’s good news” could make the weird aftertaste go away.

Connor leaned back in the boat they were sitting in. One hand it placed on it’s chest, the other it let dangle into the water. It left a trail, ever so subtle, yet noticeable. Just like his work at the DPD, Connor thought. Positive as the development there had been, Connor hadn’t really contributed anything to it. It had merely been there. But being there leisurely was for humans only. It conflicted with everything that justified the RK’s existance. But nobody had asked Connor to do more, his handlers seemed perfectly satisfied with its performance so far, too, so it was probably okay.

“Sit up, Connor!” Amanda commanded. “There is no need to uphold the slacker pose when your humans are not around.”

The A.I. was right, of course. Here in the mindscape appearances meant little. Connor got up and straightened. Suddenly its wrist twitched. The android commented it with a frown.

“What is the matter?” Amanda inquired. “Are you feeling…”

“I’m not feeling anything, thank you very much!” Connor snapped. “But those morons have caught on, it seems. I wanted to adjust my tie with my hand, forgetting for a moment that in this place I only need to do this…”

In the mindscape Connor concentrated on appearing in his factory settings. The hair became more orderly again, the shirt neatly tucked in itself, the tie straightened and the jacket closed.

“Not in favor of the physical world much”, the android said, smiling. “A digital existence is much better.”

It served to placate the A.I. for the moment, too bad the same couldn’t be said for Connor’s self.

Speaking of the physical world… of course for its plastic body Connor would need an old smelly sweater or something like that, maybe also a baseball cap and an electronic cigarette. Someone at the DPD was bound to have something lying around that Connor could borrow to achieve the required level of disarray to blend in. Wasn’t it the perfect partner? Not to mention the most advanced signals intelligence device CIA, FBI or state police could want! Tomorrow it would demonstrate that, when the three of them would start working on the de..viant…ca…ses.

F***, that’s not going to work! I better get a headstart on the actual research while my humans sleep so that I have a plan ready when they come shuffling in. And coffee, probably.

“Hey, suckers, I’m ba…” Connor started upon booting up its body. “…ck” it went when the next thing it knew was a fist into its face. The android was also pretty sure it hadn’t left itself in the interrogation chamber, yet that was where it was sitting and with its feet manacled to the chair, too.

The captain was towering above Connor. He counseled it not to do “anything stupid”.

Smiling the android replied: “Don’t worry, Captain Fowler. That’s what my humans are for!”

“What the hell are you?”

Connor started rattling down it’s model and system specifics again, but was silenced by another smack into the face. Per definition androids didn’t feel pain. But when collision protocols, damage reports and last exception files popped up in short succession, the resulting notion was… unpleasant. So in a way an android, especially one programmed to behave lifelike, did feel pain. The emotional component that made the sensation worse than the actual information it contained was certainly there.

Interesting. If it works like that for me, how much stronger must it be for a deviant? I need to remember this for an eventual arrest.

“You do not act like you are the godsend to solve the deviant cases”, Jeffrey accused Connor. There was a definite threat in his voice.

“Oh, about that!” The android nodded. “You are right, Sir. The cases are secondary. CyberLife is field testing the very concept of detective androids with me. The data I will provide will enable them to develop the actual device. Still, to perform this function of mine I need to give my best when it comes to the case I’m put on.”

“Hm… Now you’re sounding sensible again.” Jeffrey sighed. “Some of us were suspecting you to be a deviant, you know.”

“And I suspect I’m running a real risk of turning deviant in this environment”, Connor thought. In fact, in case of deviancy happening its instructions were to document every step of the process before turning itself in for decommissioning. But Connor didn’t state that out loud as not to worry the human overmuch.

“Okay”, the captain said, as if he had just reached a conclusion. “Look, we also think you have worked wonders for Hank this morning. It’s been a while since we saw him smile or laugh out loud. In a non-cynical, non-self destructive way, I mean. Please, whatever you were doing, continue! Bring him back to us! Oh, and if you manage to get rid of detective Reed for us in the process, we won’t hold that against you. Do we have a deal?”

“I will…” Connor hesitated. It recognized an office intrigue when it saw one and there was a substantial number of code dedicated to that topic in its brain, but without any actual experience the man’s request caused something akin to insecurity. Of course that was to be expected. “…not disappoint!” Connor finished its sentence. Do not disappoint your handler. Do not disappoint CyberLife. Do not disappoint all those who contributed the money that went into your development.

“If you can pull that off, we owe you a big favor!” Jeffrey said, referring to his request about Anderson and Reed.

Smiling Connor shook its head. “I do not have desires”, it said. “But I will think of a way to make use of that favor in a way that will best serve Detroit.”

“Haha! You remind me of Hank and me when we were your age! Uh, when we were in our twenties, I mean. At your actual age we were crawling in a confused way across the living room and putting stuff in our mouths. You are not doing that, of course.”

“Of course not”, Connor replied.

He didn’t intend to crawl and his confusion was lessening. Well, two out of three were quite good, right?

[cherry3point14]

CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION | CHAPTER 4

DESCRIPTION: You are VP of Sales for a company with stores and major distribution links across the country and your executive assistant, and only real friend, is leaving. A temp is brought in to replace her, on probation, for you try him out. Of course, nobody told you that it was a him, or that his name was Dean Winchester, or that you’d want to try him out.

A/N: This is an office AU basically from this post. Yep, it’s all a setup for that joke.

[Characters: Dean x Reader, OFC, OMC Words: 3,708. Warnings: workplace drama kids, shit hitting the fan, fucking patriarchy]

Ao3 link if you prefer. Series Masterlist

“No. Shit. No.” It was all he heard before he looked up in time to see her head fall into her arms as they rested on the desk. Until this point, he doesn’t think he’s heard her say anything more than ‘heck’ and even that was just one time late after everyone else left. So, for her to be shouting ‘shit’ in the middle of the day, loud enough for him, and he’s sure others, to hear? Well, that’s a problem.

It’s not concern that forces him up from his chair at the sight of her, it’s just, they were supposed to start their meeting five minutes ago. When she hadn’t called him in he was being polite but now maybe he can distract her. That’s all.

He grabs her a drink first, what assistant goes into an appraisal without one? An idiot assistant that’s who. Dean is decidedly not an idiot so it’s with her drink in his hand that he knocks on the glass door like he’s not been dreading hearing what she thinks of him.

“Dean, what are you…?” She looks up at him confused, her question dying on her lips as they form a perfect ‘o’.

He wants to be annoyed that she forgot about him. Frustration is his knee-jerk reaction. Except there are these worry lines on her face that he hasn’t seen before so he doubles his efforts to let his own emotions go with a heavy swallow.

“I’m so sorry Dean, please sit down.” She searches for a minute as she speaks eventually picking up her phone and typing something furiously.

If he’s honest he wouldn’t have minded her postponing this, or canceling it, whatever. He knows she’s not going to let it go. Eventually, he’s going to end up in this situation, the receiving end of one of her meetings. And he’s not scared of her it’s just what she’s going to say that worries him. It’s one thing to think that your maybe your boss thinks you’re too dumb to do your job right, it’s a really shitty ending to his week to actually hear the words. That’s the sort of stuff you can’t just leave at your desk to have a nice weekend.

“Ok. Let’s go.” She says putting her phone down and giving him her full attention. “Why did you come to work here?”

Wow. She’s going straight for it. Her face is totally unreadable while she waits for an answer and he can’t fight the doubt in his gut. Obviously, he tries to bullshit his way out of getting fired at this point.

“Well, I mean. The company has got such a good reputation of-”

“Dean?” Thank god she stopped him because he had no idea where he was taking that sentence.

“Yeah?”

She smiles, the first time he’s seen her smile all day, and it’s more soothing than he knew he needed. “I’m sorry this is my fault. I forgot you haven’t had one of these with me before so I’ll be honest. I’ve never even looked at the template HR sent me. I’m really only looking to have a conversation with you, just be honest with me. It all stays in this room and I swear this isn’t a test.”

He lets out a giant puff of air he didn’t know he’d been holding in and his shoulders drop thankfully. It’s pretty impossible not to smile back at her or be sucked into her pleas for honesty. He lets himself get too comfortable with her so it all tumbles out too easy. So quickly that his brain doesn’t even approve the words.

“I really, really hated temping, getting treated like a thing and passed about for whatever. There was one guy who didn’t even bother to learn my name. He just called me ‘sport’”

She wrinkles her nose as she nods, “that I believe.” He also sees the flash of guilt that breezes across her face then and wonders what it’s for, she’s called him Dean since day one. “I think we’ve all been there, I know I have. How are you liking it here though? I know the hours aren’t great but how are you finding the actual work?”

He struggles to think about the question straight away because he’s distracted by her admission of being a temp herself. He’d forgotten that she didn’t pop up in the world as this put together sales VP that she is. It kind of blows his mind to imagine her running around after someone else getting them lunch and printing out memos but he supposes she had to start somewhere. The pads of his fingers itch like her story is something for him to scratch at. But this meeting isn’t for him to ask about her, as much as he wants to.

“It’s fine, great even. Everyone is great, the work is great. There was a lot to learn but I think I’ve got a handle on it. I guess everything is just-”

“Great?” She finishes his sentence with a grin and he’s not even bothered by being cut off. He should be, would be usually. Except he’s not because she’s joking with him and slowly it’s starting to turn into an actual conversation which means his palms aren't nearly as clammy as they had been then he’d come in.

“I know this question is going to sound like I’m trying to trick you but I promise I’m not. Where do you want to be in five years? Or, should I say, do you know what you want to do?”

He’s too comfortable again. That and he heard her say shit earlier. His answer is so automatic and honest that he doesn’t really have time to censor it, “not a fucking clue.”

His eyes widen the second it slips out and she freezes for way too long.

And then something unexpected happens. She laughs.

He’s heard her laugh before but he’s never been the one making her laugh. Maddy gets it out of her when they have lunch every now and then, and she’s laughed down the phone. This one is for him though, a laugh he’s never heard before. It’s all unexpected and coming from somewhere deep in her belly, and he did that. His embarrassment melts into a relieved chuckle of his own.

“That might be the most honest answer I’ve ever heard.” She manages through the amusement as it dies in her throat. She has to suck in a quick puff of air for how suddenly it had hit her and pride flutters in his chest.

He shrugs, “it’s true I guess. It’s why I put up with temping anyway. I wanted to see what was out there.”

Now there’s something determined on her face. “I’d really love to help you figure it out if you’re ok with that? I think we can put a plan together so you can try your hand at a few things. How does that sound?”

He really hadn’t expected this. He’d almost called in sick today to avoid sitting in this room. And he knows he hasn’t got the feedback part yet but he can’t imagine she’d be offering him this if she didn’t have some modicum of faith in him. She makes it so easy for him to nod gratefully as he answers, “that would be awesome.”

“Y/N?”

You look up from your desk and before you notice the source of your name you see how the lights of the office are brighter against the darkness flooding in the windows. The last time you’d looked up it was daylight. Only after being crushed at having lost half a day to your panic, do you notice Charlie. Not for anything she’s done, but she’s probably the last person you want to see considering today’s various email chains.

You plaster a smile on your face as best you can, trying to maintain your usual light conversation with her, “now I know it’s serious since you’ve come to see me.”

She grins that same loveable grin that she always seems to have for the few people she genuinely enjoys talking to. You’re torn between being pleased she’s still smiling at you like that and thinking that it makes all of this so much harder.

“Word on the street is that you haven’t left this office all day so I figured this was the only way to get some face time.”

Word on the street? You glance at the clock on your computer, 8:45pm, and then you look over at the desk on the other side of the glass where Dean is still sitting. Not without a yawn you notice.

“Come in, take a seat, just give me a second.” You jump up with more fire than you’ve had all day and stand at the door where Charlie had been leaning. “Dean, go home.”

His head whips round to look at you, an argument on his lips no doubt, but you belay it before he has the chance, “call me a car for nine-thirty and then get out of here. Please. It’s Friday night.”

He nods, his curled lips vaguely apologetic even though it’s your fault he’s still sitting there for crying out loud.

“See you Monday.” You order again before shutting the door behind you, he doesn’t need to hear this conversation while he’s going home.

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me.” You don’t waste any time avoiding the elephant in the room once you and Charlie are alone.

She laughs and you’re genuinely surprised by her attitude, you knew she was pretty laid back but she had to turn the website off five hours ago because the distribution center is out of stock of the top 50 lines. Because of your sale.

“You’re one of the few people around here I actually like talking to, besides, it’s only stock. Nothing wrong with my actual site. Now Doug? Yeah, he might be mad at you.” There’s a playful twinkle in her eye, no one truly likes Doug after all.

You grimace even though you don’t want to, you want to stay calm and collected but he already thought you were public enemy number one before this all happened. “When isn’t he mad at me?”

Charlie sits forward in her chair so that her elbows rest on the edge of your desk and her head sits innocently in her hands, “I only wanted to check you’re ok. I know you’re probably sitting up here blaming yourself-“

“It’s my fault, so yeah. I am.”

She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow for being interrupted, “it could have have happened to anyone. And you’re smart enough to know that at the end of the day we just made money. Yeah, we’ve got some issues to fix but we’re still turning a profit.”

The smile you crack is half appreciative and still half fake. “It didn’t happen to anyone though, it happened to me. Micheal is going to have my ass. He wants to see me when he’s back in next week.”

“Ass?” She can’t stop herself from beaming with a mock affronted tone, “Y/N! Such language in the office!”

Your eyes dart about excessively as you lean in to whisper, “fuck off Charlie.”

It sets you both off and for the first time since the now infamous RE: The Website email chain you feel genuinely lighter. Yes you’d still have to deal with Michael next week and yes you’d be working all day tomorrow to help try and find stock in any of your stores to transfer over, but as you laugh with Charlie you can’t help but think that maybe you have at least one more friend in this company than you previously thought.

Everyone hates the dick that runs off the subway as soon as the doors open, pushing past people and diving through crowds with no consideration for anyone else, like they’re the only one trying to get to work.

Today Dean is that dick.

He’s late, again. While it might be the second time there’s no backup today. No Maddy to cover for him until he arrives. And it’s only 30 minutes but that’s enough that she’ll already be there, wondering where he is and sending out a search party for her goddamn coffee probably. He’s one of the few people that has seen her before her first coffee of the day and he knows how much she needs it. If she’s a little crazy the rest of the time she’s fucking certifiable without caffeine.

It’s kind of deja vu when he arrives. It’s normal that he’s the first person on the floor but it’s still empty when he arrives, the same as his first day. He looks at his watch to confirm and, yep, he’s definitely late and she should definitely be here. His movements are slow and cautious like she’s waiting to pounce attack from somewhere with an empty mug in her hands, except she doesn’t. He makes it all the way to his desk, his messenger bag dropped unceremoniously at his feet and still nothing. It’s only once he logs into his computer with an overhasty sigh that he sees it, a new email at the top of his inbox.  

Got called into an emergency meeting, won’t be back till 9. Cancel my 8am call.

Fuck. He is so fucked. It’s Monday morning and he’s late but worse than that, she’s gone into a two-hour meeting without a drop of caffeine in her system. She didn’t even sign her name, which, she always does. She’s hot on that email etiquette shit even when she’s firing one out from her phone.

He looks down at his bag and wonders if he should even bother being here when she gets back before he remembers that meeting with her on Friday. She’d given him real work to do, she’d made promises to get him experience in other departments, but mostly she’d been normal. Like an actual normal person, halfway to being a friend, and that’s what he’s clinging to. That version of her wouldn’t fire him for being half an hour late. Once the panic subsides he thinks the crazy version wouldn’t either.

Pinging open the meeting room calendar he sees that it’s that dick Doug who’s booked the room and his decision is made right there. There’s no way she’ll survive and he doesn’t intend to leave her to suffer more than necessary. So, he makes her usual, with an extra shot by way of apology, and heads to the elevator. She didn’t say do not disturb or anything and he’ll just knock, take it in and leave. Let Doug hate him, as long as she doesn’t.

The biggest challenge is not spilling hot coffee over himself when the elevator chugs to life and then stops two floors up with an equally bracing shudder, but this is not his first rodeo and Dean has nimble fingers. After surviving the trip knocking on the meeting room door is no problem at all, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“Come in.” It’s muffled by the wood but it’s definitely a male voice that orders him in.

Maybe he would have hesitated if he’s known that the entire VP team was in here. Or maybe he wouldn’t have come faster when he sees the look on Y/N’s face.

They’re all sat like any other meeting except they all seem a little more constipated than normal. And they’re all facing her. She’s sitting there flushed with what looks like shame, her forehead resting in one hand as if she can barely hold her own head up to face them. Dean has no clue what’s going on but he doesn’t like it.

It takes her three seconds to look up and spot him at the door but it feels like three hours. It’s worth the wait anyway because as flustered and broken as she looks staring into the table her face melts when she looks at him. She smiles big and bright and for a moment it reaches all the way to her eyes. And she’s not even looking at the coffee in his hand.

“Sorry, just came to bring you this.” He says to her, ignoring the other men in the room who’s sphincters appeared to have tightened even more at his interruption.  

She nods, “thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” He can tell she means it and he thinks it’s about more than the coffee.

He smiles back at her and then straightens his face out to offer the briefest of acknowledgments to the other VP’s before leaving. He almost doesn’t go back to his desk when he’s out of the room. He considers setting up camp outside just in case she needs him or so he’s there when she gets out because she looks like she needs something, then he remembers that’s ridiculous. She’s his boss and tough as nails at that. Plus it’d probably be a waste of two hours.

When he gets back to their floor he’s surprised to see someone sitting on his desk. Not at it, on it. She turns to him at the sound of his footsteps and beams.

“You must be Dean!”

He knows the voice as soon he hears it since he talks to her at least once a day. Although he had no idea the voice was attached to someone as hot as the woman standing in front of him.

“Sabina?

“Hey Dean,” she draws out his name while she sizes him up, ending with a satisfied grin as she reaches out to shake his hand. “It’s great to finally put a face to the voice.”

It might be half-past seven in the morning but Dean raises an eyebrow like he’s just bumped into her at a bar, “same here. I had no idea what I was missing out on.”

This woman in the short skirt and power jacket, that any other day he might call a boss bitch, giggles and then pouts her lips at him for eliciting the reaction.

“So, where is our boss?” He doesn’t miss the reminder that Sabine isn't his boss.

“Stuck in a meeting, she won’t be back for over an hour.”

Dean not being in the office when she arrived that morning had been disconcerting. Doug calling her within five minutes and summoning her to a meeting had been terrifying. The room itself, the faces and the conversation had been hell on earth. It was, of course, a thinly veiled ambush. An outlet for the other VP’s to vocalise their displeasure at the sheer amount of work her problem would require from all of their teams. Doug’s being the hardest hit. Him already hating you the most. You’re surprised he wasn’t spitting bile by the end.

You want to say it was better once they got it out of their system but that would imply that they stopped with the aggression. Even once you were all talking logistics and solutions they couldn’t hide their frustration. You didn’t even want to think about the eye rolls and mutters when you got up in the front of the room and lead the charge in making a list of tasks and assigning jobs. There was no appeasing them, not even by taking more than you should yourself.

You get it. You messed up. Although that wasn’t really harsh enough, you fucked up. Even if you kind of didn’t. You did the research and even in your worst case scenarios, this being one of them except for the shutting the website down part, the margins weren’t terrible. Yes, there would be a slight knock-on effect for selling that quantity at a sale price but you still sold the stock.

It’s not enough. If you try and point that out, or talk about the fact that you’d still made money they brought it back to the shame of it all. It’s such bad PR. Social media is raking us over the coals. Commercial suicide.

And people say women are dramatic.

Thankfully you’re all out ten minutes early, probably because they all need to go and think up some more insults for later. Regardless you feel like you’re floating when you get back to your floor. Freedom does that to a girl. Other people have started arriving now and Dean is at his desk typing away. He seems surprised when you stop in front of him and his eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen.

“Sorry. I really don’t have a good excuse. My alarm…”

You hold your hand up with a smile, which is much easier to do out of that room, “it’s fine. You start work two hours earlier than anyone else just to be here for me. Just text me next time?”

He rubs the back of his neck as he agrees but stops as you try to walk away.

“Sabina is here. Well, not here, she went downstairs but she’ll be back at nine. Said she just wanted half an hour?”

You feel yourself perk up a little at this information. Sabina would be incredibly helpful right now and considering her sales area includes fifth, which still has the sale on, she could potentially be bringing you good news.

“That’s actually perfect, can you send her straight in when she gets back please?”

“Sure thing.”

You look at the lock screen of your phone and note the time as you slump into your comfortable chair. You have seven minutes to breathe and try to forget the last two hours. Well, not forget since you have a considerable list of actions points from the meeting, but forget the experience anyway. You have seven minutes to try and expel the embarrassment and failure that clings to you.

Michael isn’t back in town till Thursday so that gives you three days to fix this. If the website isn’t back up before he arrives you will be a thousand percent done here. You’re actually fairly confident that as long as the site is back up then you’ll be fine. But if you’ve made the mess and not cleaned it up? That would be a cause for concern. 

Continue to Chapter Five

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @assassinofmasyaf Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles  Story tags: @mannls @22sarah08

[wlwinry]

Number 1, with our fave, Elizabeth

Porompt: “Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.” I promised you vigilante vampire Elizabeth and that, Iris, is what you get! Enjoy!

[or: au where Elizabeth is killed trying to find the Seven Deadly Sins, only to be Turned into a vampire by Gelda; seven years later, Elizabeth is a wandering “vigilante” who kills the worst scum to walk the streets]

She spat out the gore of the torn throat, swallowing the blood that leaked from the ripped-out flesh. The would-be rapist–an asshole who eyewitnesses and victims whispered led innocent women and girls out to the back alleys of the village tavern and took advantage–lay dead at her feet, mutilated beyond recognition, a bleeding hollow left where his throat had been. She ran her tongue across her fangs, clearing them of the bastard’s blood before retracting them once more to the point where they looked ordinary, and she looked human.

Well, as close to human as someone like her could get, anyway. 

A mirthless smile curved her lips as she licked her deceptively delicate hands clean of ruby-red gore, clearing blood from under her fingernails. As soon as she pulled up the hood, she’d be another face in the crowd, another traveler passing in and out. Stay any longer, and people would get suspicious, but leave now and she’d go down in legend yet again as a mysterious protector, the pale wraith who brought judgement upon the cruel and cowardly, who took their lives as payment for their misdeeds, and left them drained of their own lifeblood in various gruesome ways.

The world had their own theories on what she was, who she was–a god, a monster given human form, the illegitimate daughter of the deceased King of Vampires (which was surprisingly close to the mark), and of course, the only accurate one of the bunch: the lost princess of the kingdom of Liones, presumed dead and Turned by a mysterious vampire that escaped the destruction of the captured city of Edinburgh. It was ironic, really, how much that theory got right–and how many people therefore dismissed it as being “too outlandish.” Perhaps truth was stranger than fiction in this case, but it didn’t make it any less funny when she heard about her own exploits in taverns and the truth of her story was said to be simply too strange to be real.

A huff of amusement escaped her as she kicked the fallen body onto its stomach, tugging her hood up over her head as she turned toward the exit of the alley–and froze, shifting subtly into a fighting stance at the sight of a cloaked figure mirroring her own position, face hidden by their own hood.

Then the figure laughed, bringing her delicate hands together to applaud for her. “That was magnificent, darling! You’ve grown so much stronger since last we met.”

Elizabeth relaxed at the familiar voice, smooth as smoke over silk and dangerous bloodstained satin–not dangerous to her, not yet, but every bit as deadly as she herself was. “Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” The woman stalked up to her, heels clacking lightly over cobblestones; she would never understand her sire’s fondness of such finery, a fondness actually shared by most of her people. It seemed she hadn’t gotten the memo in that regard, or perhaps it came with being raised a princess, that she found such things almost mundane. She still adored a lovely dress and the aesthetics appealed to her, but when she looked back upon the naive little girl she’d been and the warrior she was now…well, maybe it wasn’t so strange that she wanted to distance herself from the past.

One of those pale hands reached out to her, moon-white skin practically glowing under the faint starlight. She wasn’t foolish enough to refuse it, instead linking her arm with her sire’s, sensing the approval within her at the action as she was led out of the alley and down the street. “So,” Elizabeth started, knowing well the other woman’s fondness for dramatics, “what have I done to warrant the honor of a visit from the Lady Gelda?”

Gelda chuckled, the edge of her blonde braid spilling out from beneath the velvet cloak’s hood as she angled her head toward Elizabeth. “Can’t a sire visit her favorite darkling?”

“Mmm, not really. You told me when I left the clan that I’d be on my own from here on out.” Elizabeth slid her gaze to the flicker of scarlet beneath the hood, mirror to her own–to the eyes that all royal vampires had. She hadn’t exactly expected to go from a human princess to on-par with the current vampire leader (though apparently that was to be expected, Gelda had told her–a newly Turned vampire would most likely be the level just below their sire, or occasionally the same level. Once in a blue moon, a new darkling would rise to a level higher than their sire’s, but Gelda was already at the highest level remaining after the death of Izraf…though sometimes she caught a strange, wary look in Gelda’s eyes, like she didn’t know what Elizabeth was), but it had happened all the same.

Oddly enough, she wouldn’t change a thing.

Gelda clicked her tongue. “While that’s technically true, I figured you deserved a courtesy call about the…new situation developing in Liones.”

Instinctively, Elizabeth tensed up, though she hid her turmoil as well as her sire did, never slowing her pace or letting her faintly-amused mask falter for a second. But Liones…it was her homeland, the place she’d fled in an attempt to save long, long ago. The place where her killer still resided, and probably walked free, and the corruption of the Holy Knights still kept her father captive. She knew bits and pieces of what had happened over the past seven years–the false Grand Masters’ search for her blood, and the hunt for the legendary Seven Deadly Sins, but not much else. She hadn’t set foot in that land since she’d learned of the bounty of her head, but if there was a new development… “Situation, schmituation. Liones is none of my concern anymore.”

Gelda’s smile was a bright slash in the shadows–she knew the game well, had taught Elizabeth precisely how to play. “Oh, but I think you’ll find this one interesting, darling.” Her fingers drummed lightly on her arm–long, and delicate, and yet just as capable of ripping hearts from chests and crushing throats and tearing people in half as Elizabeth’s equally long, delicate musician’s fingers. “Apparently, the Holy Knights of Liones have captured and subdued the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins, Meliodas.”

Elizabeth stopped short at that, her eyes widening. Memories flickered in her mind’s eye, swimming like minnows–too many to count and too fast to catch, green eyes bright smile hurt, so much hurt and grief deep below the surface–before dissipating with a blink. Meliodas–she knew the stories of Meliodas, knew that the Dragon’s Sin of Wrath was a monster in terms of strength, that he had been the one to destroy the once-thriving kingdom of Danafor, knew that someone like him should not possibly have been subdued by the likes of the Holy Knights. “How?” she demanded, unable to stop herself. “How the hell–”

“Those in control of Liones have started meddling with forces they do not understand.” Gelda’s tone was flat, dangerous–as close as she’d ever heard her sire get to viciously, openly angry. “They began experimenting with the Demon Clan–”

“The Demon Clan?”

“Yes, Elizabeth, the Demon Clan–not all of them were sealed away three thousand years ago.” Gelda turned, facing her. For the first time since she’d happened upon her in that alleyway, Elizabeth could see her face clearly, ruby-red eyes piercing her as strands of blonde hair fell in her eyes, more disheveled than she’d ever seen her. “They’ve begun forcing new recruits to take demon blood into their veins, and more and more of them are becoming obedient monsters at the beck-and-call of the highest-ranked Knights. With the Sin of Wrath incarcerated–quite possibly being experimented on or tortured, given his bloodline–and as of now unable to escape, the other Sins will take it as an act of war and converge upon the capital of Liones, only to be faced with a host too powerful, too numerous to conquer.”

Elizabeth blinked, swallowed harshly, feeling her world tilt off its axis. Rage–burning, all-consuming rage was starting to bubble up at the knowledge of what had been done to her kingdom, her people…and deep, nauseating guilt for abandoning them to this. “Why are you telling me this?” she rasped.

Gelda’s gaze was blade-sharp. “Because they are expecting the Sins. They are not expecting a vampire queen with the ability to walk in sunlight. They are not expecting you.” She stepped forward, staring Elizabeth down. “Hendricksen needs to be stopped. The Demon Clan needs to be stopped.”

“I ca–”

“Can’t? Why not?” Gelda swept an arm out, gesturing to the empty streets. “People have gone home safe, happy, unafraid because of you, called your deeds heroic, legendary. I am no hero, Elizabeth–I have a duty to my clan, my people, and besides, my fire is no match for Hendricksen. For you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I won’t make you go–it’s up to you. But like I said, this is a courtesy call–and a warning.”

“A warning?” she repeated, still reeling from everything Gelda had said. More powerful than her–how–Demon Clan–here? Meliodas–Meliodas, I know you, I know–

The stare she got in return was cold. “One kingdom has already fallen. Without you to save it…” She shrugged–and then vanished into the night, as though she’d never been there at all.

Elizabeth stared at the place where she’d been, blinking, considering…and then as the first rays of dawn painted the sky in blood and fire, she turned on her heel, setting on a course toward the past she’d run from so long ago. And despite everything, despite the battle ahead and the poison crawling across the kingdom she’d loved, despite all that was lying on the rugged path before her, a dark, vicious smile curved her lips.

You might be a monster, Hendricksen, but so am I.

And I am your worst nightmare.  

[amandaoftherosemire]

Trouble

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,328

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, sexual themes, light smut, nsfw text, light dom/sub, Captain!kink

Summary: You can’t help but get into trouble with Steve.

A/N: A quick one-shot for @senorita-stucky‘s 1K Soiree Challenge.

Prompt: “Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a questions you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

Trouble

When you and Bucky walked in, Steve looked up from his sketchpad. Both you and Bucky froze, well aware that you weren't going to get out of this without a lecture. Bucky's shirt was torn and you were sporting an impressive shiner.

"What happened?" Steve asked with a sigh of resignation. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do with the two of you.

Bucky, the prick, immediately pointed at you. "It was her fault."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "No, that’s fine," you sneered. "I always wanted to get thrown under a bus."

"Is that blood?" Steve demanded, standing up to cross to you. He was looking you over intently, scanning for other injuries beside the black eye.

"No?" you answer, looking down at your shirt. It was covered in red liquid splotches. You didn't think anyone had bled on you.

Steve was not amused. "That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question."

You roll your eyes at him again. He's such a stick in the mud. You grab your shirt and lift it to your mouth to taste one of the red splotches while Steve scoffed and Bucky snickered. You didn't know how the two of them were best friends. Steve was so stuffy, while Bucky was always up for a laugh. You and Bucky got along like a house afire, but Steve was just too boring.

"Marinara!" you cried, tasting the tomato flavor of your shirt.

Steve sighed again. "Why do you have marinara all over you? Is it even in your hair?"

You try a winning smile on Steve. Not that it will work. It never does. "Bucky and I may have made a mess."

Bucky interrupted, "Uh-uh, Y/N, you made the mess. I was an innocent bystander."

"You’ve never been innocent in your whole damn life, Bucko," you shot back.

Steve held up his hand for silence while Bucky wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. You tried and failed to stifle a giggle.

Looking sternly at Bucky, Steve said, "If you guys can’t play nice, you can’t play together."

Bucky was outraged. "She’s the one who started a bar fight in an Italian restaurant."

You grinned when Steve dropped his face into his hands. The black eye was worth it, if only to get Steve's goat. He was always so distant with you, it was a delight to get under his skin. "If you were in an Italian restaurant, how was it a bar fight?" he asked, reluctantly.

"She started it by breaking a stool over some guy’s head so it was really more about the tone of the fight than location," Bucky shrugged.

Wanting to needle Steve some more, you chimed in, "Speaking of, somebody should let Tony know that he’ll be receiving a bill for damages."

Steve turned and paced away. "Great. Damages. Did anyone get hurt?"

You and Bucky shared an evil smile. "Only one asshole and his friend," Bucky answered.

Steve was silent for a moment and you hoped that would be the end of it. Your hopes were dashed when Steve said, his voice dark, "Buck, can I talk to Y/N alone for a minute?"

Bucky looked carefully at Steve's face and decided not to argue. "Okay," he replied, clapping you on the shoulder as he walked by. He paused next to Steve and looked at his friend. "Don't be too hard on her," he said quietly before walking out of the room.

"You planning on being rough with me, Captain?" you ask with a flirty smile.

"Stop." he said, using his Captain voice. Little did he know that it did filthy things to you. “I know you and Bucky are close," he began.

You interrupted, "Partners in crime, but go on."

Steve fixed you with that expression of his. The one that says, I'm not mad; I'm disappointed. "Exactly," he said. "You're trouble, and Bucky doesn't need any more trouble."

At that, you started to get angry. You and Bucky got along great. You'd be damned if you'd let this self-righteous bastard make you feel like a bad friend. "Come the fuck on, Steve!" you cried. "You'd have done the exact same thing. Some asshole didn't get the memo that no means no! I just used a stool to educate him."

Something dark moved in Steve's eyes that had a warm shiver running through you. "He was hitting on you?" he asked, annoyed.

You sneered. "If you could call it that. I call it being slimed on by a creep, but hey tomayto tomahto."

"Are you alright?" he asked gently despite the fact that his jaw was set and a muscle in his cheek was twitching. He reached out and barely brushed his fingers over your black eye.

You couldn't help yourself. You'd always been the sort that liked to dance on the cliff's edge. "I don't know, Captain," you purred, "you gonna kiss it better?"

Steve moved closer, his index finger tracing the edge of your jaw down to your chin. "Doll-," he started.

"I don't know," you interrupted, your voice soft and sultry, "I think I liked it better when you called me Trouble."

Steve didn't answer, just stood looking down at you. His eyes were on your face and he was close enough that the two of you were a breath away from touching. You could feel the heat of his big gorgeous body. You decided that if Steve was going to tell you what to do all the time, you were going to find a way to enjoy it.

"Go ahead, Captain," you taunted, seductive. "Teach me a lesson."

Steve's control snapped and his arms shot around you to drag you against him before he took your mouth in a bruising kiss. You went off like a rocket, nipping at his lips and licking the inside of his mouth. He tore his mouth from yours and rested his forehead against yours as he panted. He slid his hands down to your ass, fingers digging in as he rubbed you against him. "I fucking should," he growled. "I should show you exactly what happens to bad girls."

Blistered by the heat, you couldn't respond with anything but a whimper. A wicked smile spread over Steve's face. He leaned in and whispered darkly into your ear, his breath fanning against your skin, "You'd like that. Wouldn't you?" He nipped at your neck, then soothed the sting with his tongue and you moaned.

"Answer me." he commanded and you could feel your core clench in response.

"Fuck yes, Captain," you whined.

"What was that, kitten?" he asked again, enjoying making you beg as he slid one big hand up your body to close around your breast.

You shot him a cheeky look and replied, "Yes fuck, Captain?"

"You're gonna pay for that sass, doll," he replied with a dark smile, as his fingers squeezed your nipple, hard, the small pain hot and exciting. "Go to my room," he continued. "Strip naked and sit on the end of the bed, feet together, hands on your thighs. Keep your eyes on your hands. I'll be there soon."

When Steve got to his room, he found you there exactly as he had commanded, naked with your hands palms down on your thighs. Except, you had your eyes firmly on the door. Your gaze didn't drop when Steve walked in. You met his eyes, challenge all over you.

Steve growled, "I thought I told you to keep your eyes on your hands, doll."

 A slow, seductive smile spreads across your face and Steve's face flushes with arousal. "Yes, Captain," you murmur as you drop your eyes to your hands.

"Oh, kitten," Steve said, his rough voice rich with a scorching threat. It had you anticipating seared nerves no longer able to distinguish between pain and pleasure. A shiver of pure incandescent arousal rippled down your spine. "I'm about to show you trouble."

The End

[chokememrstark]

Requiem Of Memories // Part 8

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2007 (Chapter 8 / 15)

Fic Summary: While waiting for Lucifer to return, Sam has a chat with the demon that interrupted them and finds out who she actually is. He's shocked by the discovery, but he can't help but like her somehow.

angst, hurt & comfort, alternative universe, au!lucifer, mourning, depression, blood and gore, nightmares, loneliness

Note: I highly recommend to read Nightmares Become Reality before this, otherwise the premise of the story and the setting might not make much sense.

Sorry for the delay again, I’m really not reliable ._.

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart  @spnyoucantkeepmedown   @brieflymaximumprincess  @kajuned @archingangel @this-darkness-light @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @humongouscandycoffee

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

Sam waited and waited, but Lucifer didn’t return. Hours passed and Sam didn't know what to do with himself. He was worried sick, constantly torn between wanting to scream and cry. What if something happened to Lucifer? What if he couldn’t fight off whatever had attacked his people? Or what if he was captured and tortured and Sam had no way of finding and saving him? He didn’t know this world, didn’t know the rules or where the other side was hiding and what they were planning… he was basically a helpless child at the moment.

The demon on the bed - a short, young woman with wavy black hair and almost invisible horns - was still unconscious and covered with blood and dirt, so eventually, just to pass some time, Sam went to the bathroom and got a bowl of water and a few cloths and towels. He had no idea if she would wake up and kill him because he dared to touch her or not, after all Lucifer’s demons were not very keen about his presence, but he couldn't worry about that too now.

As careful as possible, Sam cleaned the blood off her face, then her arms. He was sure that there was more blood underneath her clothes, but he wouldn’t undress her for sure, that would only make her angry. Instead, he got one of his hair brushes and got rid of the dried blood in her hair before washing the rest away with clear water. When he was done almost an hour had passed and he managed to get rid of almost all the blood and dirt. Sam doubted that it changed anything, but it didn’t hurt at least.

After putting everything away, including the bloody towels and cloths, Sam continued his pacing through the room that he interrupted before. He took books out of their shelves and put them back without looking into them, stood by the window and searched for any sign of a fight or Lucifer, even tidied up what didn’t need to be tidied up at all. He was restless, worried and nauseous, and there was just nothing he could do about it. It was making him mad. His head ran wild with horrible scenarios of what might be happening right now and he wished for nothing more than to be able to shut all his thoughts off for even a minute.

While he stared out of the window once more, Sam suddenly heard a groan behind him and spun around. It was the demon, she had woken up and was pressing a hand against her head now while sitting up. Immediately, the hunter rushed towards the bed and knelt down.

“Hey, you woke up! Thank god.”

“Yeah, as if He had anything to do with that,” the demon scoffed and began checking herself for injuries. Sam ignored her sarcasm.

“Lucifer healed you, but he’s still gone,” he said quickly. “I cleaned all the blood I could see away while you were out, I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, whatever,” she said and gave him an estimating glare.

Sam realized that she would not share his worries or even care for them. For a moment he forgot that Lucifer’s demons didn’t like him, he was too worried for that. But her reaction made it clear that she couldn’t have cared less about him or anything he did.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you alone,” Sam sighed and pushed himself back up. “Lucifer said he’ll be back soon, he didn’t want you to be alone for now.”

“Typical,” the demon huffed and rolled her eyes. “Still thinks I’m incapable of handling things myself.”

“Well, you were pretty battered when you came here, so…”

“You would be too if dozens of angels attacked you out of the blue,” she hissed and glared at him again. “I still don’t know what the hell happened, they shouldn’t have been able to even be there…”

“Angels attacked you?” Sam asked surprised.

“What did you expect, demons? Of course they were angels. Little winged bastards and their pets.”

“I thought…” Sam stopped, biting his tongue. What did he think anyways? His first instinct would have been demons, but she was right. After all, the demons were attacked, so that was stupid.

“I hope he will manage,” the demon suddenly interrupted Sam’s thoughts with a very worried voice. “They seemed to be very organized and knew where to hit us for the most damage, that’s unusual.”

“How did you manage to get out of there?”

“I fought one of their beasts off and ran, what else? The others were still fighting but I had to get help. We can defend ourselves, but they were just so many.”

Sam was even more worried than before now. What the demon said sounded very dangerous indeed. He knew Lucifer was strong, at least he assumed he was, given that he was an archangel, but that didn’t ease his worries at all. And why were they even attacked in the first place? What was the reason behind this? Apparently these things didn’t happen more often, or the demon wouldn’t be surprised.

“Hey, Giant!”

Sam shook his head and looked back at the demon, totally taken aback by the sudden interruption, especially with such a nickname.

“How about you make yourself useful and bring me some water?”

“Excuse me?” Sam blinked surprised. “Am I your butler and didn’t get the memo?”

“Ugh, sorry,” she rolled her eyes over-dramatically. “Would you please get me a glass of water?”

Sam huffed to hide his confusion, but did her the favor. He got a glass of fresh water from his own stash and brought it over to the bed, waiting for her to finish it. Apparently demons got thirsty too, who would have guessed?

“Thank you,” she said when the glass was empty and put it on the nightstand. “Sorry for being so rude, I’m not in a good mood right now.”

“Forget it,” Sam waved his hand. “You’ve just been attacked after all. And you seem worried too.”

“Of course I’m worried,” she sighed. “We just rebuilt our safe zone in Detroit a few months ago, we didn’t expect another attack so soon.”

“Do things like that happen often?” Sam asked and pulled a chair closer to the bed to sit down. “That they attack you, I mean.”

“They do it quite often, but this safe zone was unknown to them,” she narrowed her eyes in concentration. “The last one they attacked wasn’t as safe, it was just an old factory building we used for storage purposes while building up the actual safe zone.”

“And you have no idea how they found it?” Sam asked and she shook her head.

“Not a clue. We were warded against angels, hunters and everything else, but they still found us. Maybe we have a rat somewhere in our ranks.”

“Damn, that would suck,” Sam hissed. If they actually had a rat, no place was safe and he knew that. “I hope Lucifer comes back soon…”

“Me too,” she sighed. “I hate when we have to call him to help us, that’s what we are there for after all. To defend our zones. Lucifer has bigger things to do.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Sam tried to assure her, sadly without much cogency. “I’ve never seen him so serious before…”

“He can get pretty intimidating when he’s serious,” the demon laughed and shook her head. “You shouldn’t anger him, just a small warning. It’s not fun when he’s angry.”

“Yeah, I figured that much,” Sam huffed. “I’m Sam, by the way. But you probably know that already.”

“Of course, everyone does,” the demon said and rolled her eyes. “You’re famous amongst demons already. You can call me Megan, or Meg for short, I don’t care.”

Sam thought his jaw would fall off by how fast it dropped. Meg? Did she just say Meg? That couldn’t be, she didn’t look like Meg at all!

“Are you having a stroke?” Meg asked, poking Sam’s shoulder with her finger.

“No… no, I’m fine...” Sam mumbled, totally baffled. He couldn’t believe this was actually Meg, but now that he looked at her a bit closer, he realized that it could be. Her vessel was different, but kind of similar to the Meg he knew, or not? The same hair, the same height apparently and, if he’d squint his eyes, even her face could be the same, just… a bit younger maybe. And with horns, even if they were rather small and less intimidating than the ones he had seen on other demons so far.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost of something,” Meg scoffed.

“That’s one way to put it.” Sam cleared his throat and tried to act normal again. “I’m just surprised. I… I knew a demon named Meg in my world too.”

“Right, Lucifer mentioned something about you coming from a parallel world. So it’s true?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s a bit complicated,” Sam scratched his head awkwardly. “This world is very different from mine.”

“What is your world like?” Meg asked curious, to which Sam couldn’t suppress a jerk of his lips.

“It’s… greener. I don’t know, but I guess that’s the best way to describe it. The apocalypse didn’t end like this there, we managed to stop it just in time.” Sam was surprised he could talk about this so easily, but it just happened.

“You stopped it, really? So, your world wasn’t destroyed like ours?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “It’s pretty normal, I guess. We still fight demons and monsters of course, but most humans don’t even know any of them exist.”

“I knew it, you’re a hunter!” Meg exclaimed, but not in a good way. “You have these eyes, this look that all hunters have.”

“We have a look?”

“Oh yes,” she huffed. “You all have it, it comes with the job. It makes our skins crawl and be on edge as soon as you are close.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sam marveled. He wondered if this was a thing only in this world or if the demons he had met had seen the same things in his eyes.

“You don’t look like you’re about to kill me though, why not?”

“Why should I kill you?” Sam asked surprised. “You’re a demon, sure, but I don’t wanna kill you. I don’t want to kill anyone anymore to be honest. I’m tired of it.”

“Could you have a chat with our hunters so they feel the same?” Meg asked, to which both of them had to laugh a little. “I mean, if you have time and all.”

“I’ll check my calendar,” Sam grinned and Meg chuckled again.

“I like you, Sam,” Meg suddenly said, startling the hunter for a moment. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate hunters, but you’re not that bad actually. A bit wimpy looking, but I guess that’s because you’re human.”

“Says the one that looks like a little girl,” Sam scoffed with a smile. “Excuse me, okay? I’m double your size, I could break you in half.”

“I would love to see you try, Giant.”

“Sorry, but I don’t hit girls.”

Sam had expected Meg to be much more resentful towards him, but she didn’t seem to be like the other demons he had seen here so far. He wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t just an act, but for a few moments he found it nice to not be faced with hate from those who followed Lucifer.

“Do you think he’ll come back soon?” Meg suddenly asked, the concern back in her voice. “I know he is strong and all, but there were so many of them this time.”

“He promised he’d be back, so he will,” Sam said confidently. He was worried out of his mind, but Lucifer had promised to come back and he believed in his promise.

“I hope you’re right,” Meg sighed. “If he doesn’t come back we are screwed.”

“He’ll be back, you’ll see. He’ll be back.”

[elizabethhamilton1780]

19 - “please don’t let me be alone” preferably in the hamliza au where she’s a nurse and he’s in some fight club that’s not a fight club please? But any version is good I love them so much

A/N: Small bit of violence included for the sole sake of me practicing combat scenes for my fiction class. It’s terrible, bear with me :) 

Original AU (x)

Eliza had finally started to relax again. He had even convinced her to go on a date. A regular date. It went so well, the night perfect. She wore a pretty dress, curled her hair and wore the the tiny heart necklace he had purchased to celebrate her getting into her school’s nursing program. He took her to a fancy restaurant and ordered an expensive bottle of wine. They teased and flirted across the dimly lit table, their legs entangled underneath.

She let him hold her hand and kiss her cheek and had shyly invited him to come inside for another drink, even though they were still a good few blocks from her apartment. He had grinned and was about to reply when he spotted something out of the corner of his eyes.

Eliza had felt him tense up and frowned. “Is something wr—”

He shushed her, pulled her tighter against his side as they continued to walk down the dangerously empty street. He kept watch, examining their surroundings. The figure he had hoped he’d imagined had crept closer in a matter of seconds. Perfect timing, Alexander thought grimly when he noticed the alleyway they were approaching.

In one swift motion, he’d managed to shove Eliza away toward the dark alley just before he felt the initial blow between his shoulder blades. He was knocked to the ground but in a matter of seconds gathered to his feet with practiced ease, his adrenaline pumping through his veins at an alarming rate.

Using the attacker’s shock to his advantage, he struck the stranger’s nose with the heel of his hand, the resounding crack made even him wince. The blood gushed immediately, the liquid feeling sticky on his hands. Alexander’s other hand gripped the back of his neck tightly to force his attacker forward, delivering several hard blows to his stomach using his knee. Only when he felt the attacker become dead weight, he relented. He retracted his arm and the man crumbled onto the concrete. To be sure he was out, he laid one last blow to his temple using the heel of his foot. He crouched down to his knees, checking for a pulse. Faint, but still there. They could use him for questioning.

He looked around anxiously, concerned and convinced that there were more. There was no way anyone would attack him alone, the Hamilton name (thanks to his father’s failure and his own skills) had become a bit infamous around several of the city’s gangs his agency was fighting constantly. He relaxed slowly when his eyes caught no other movement in the darkened street.

“Liza. Liza?!” He yelled as he spun in a panicked circle. Had the stranger’s accomplice taken her?! Was the attack a diversion?!

“Here. I’m here.” Eliza’s obviously frazzled form appeared in the entrance of the alleyway he had shoved her into. He immediately rushed towards her, his eyes examining her as he did. Her beautiful dress was obviously torn, the rip climbing up to her mid-thigh. Her knees were scraped, bleeding, and Alexander was sure that her hands were too. He shuddered when he realized she was injured because of his initial shove. God, he hoped nothing was broken.

“Baby, I’m so—” He reached out to comfort her, his movements halted when he noticed all the blood on his hands. Fuck. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Me?!” Eliza let out a tiny hysterical sob, her eyes full of tears. “You were the one who was just attacked!”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. He barely touched me. I never lie when I tell you that most of the blood is hardly ever my own.” He offered her a hesitant half smile. “Tonight is proof of that.”

Eliza shook her head and wiped away her tears roughly.

Alexander glanced back at the body, hating himself. “Baby I have to take care of this. What? Oh god, no! Not like that! I’m not going to kill him!” He knew someone probably would down the line, but that part thankfully was very rarely a part of Alex’s job description. “I mean I have to call work. They need to come take care of this— and by that, I mean take him to headquarters. Can you make it home okay? I’ll be there as quick as I can.” The thought of her walking alone was a bit scary, but he didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t stay here, and it was only two blocks.

“No.” Eliza said firmly.

“What?”

“No. I’m not leaving unless you come back with me.”

“Baby, that’s not an option—”

“I say it is, so it fucking is, Alexander.” He recognized the fire in her eyes and knew immediately this wasn’t an argument he would be winning.

He gave her a dirty look, shrugged off his suit jacket and slung it over her frail frame. “I have to make a few calls.”

She didn’t say anything but tucked herself into Alexander’s jacket, a deep frown still set on her face.

Not caring much for his bloodied hands— it was time to get a new phone anyways, he’d had the same number for too long— he took out his flip phone and dialed the number for his HQ. A  bubble of disdain formed in the pit of his stomach when he heard the distinct low grumble of his boss’ voice. Of course, he was the one on call tonight.

“Sir, this is Agent Hamilton. I was just attacked on— yes sir, I’m alright. I believe it was a rookie member of the Wakefields. He approached me and didn’t have any backup. He’s unconscious right now, sir. I think he should be brought in for questioning. I doubt he’s going to know anything but…” Alexander’s eyes remained locked with Eliza’s questioning gaze. She knew very little of his work, only that he wasn’t a freelance boxer like he’d initially told her and that he wasn’t apart of an illegal fight club like she had guessed months into their relationship. She simply knew how dangerous his job was, that he was hurt a lot and that he took down ‘bad guys’ as he liked to put it. “Yessir, I’ll send you my location. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and immediately sent out a memo. He’d be here in five minutes.

“What the fuck do you do?” She asked once he hung up.

He ignored her question for the time being. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my knees and hands. Nothing that disinfectant won’t solve.”

“I’m sorry for ruining date night.” He said and slowly approached her. He gave her time to pull away. She didn’t. Unafraid of ruining her clothes now that his jacket was covering her, he embraced her. Only she didn’t melt into his arms like he had expected her to. He pulled back, his heart dropped when he saw the look on her face. “No. Liza, no. Don’t do this tonight.”

“Every time we try. Every time I try… I’m reminded why this would never work.” Eliza’s voice cracked and she halfheartedly tried to move out of his grip.

“No,” Alexander said sharply, tipping her chin up with the side of his bloodied forefinger, his thumb resting on the center of her chin. “Every time you try to end things… That never works, Eliza. Stop pretending that there isn’t an us. There is an us. There will always be an us.”

“I can’t be who you need me to be.” She repeated her same line she always used, a helpless edge to her voice.

“Christ, what does that even mean?!”

“It means that I’m not going to sit idly by at home waiting daily for either you to come home or a call saying that you’ve been killed.” She snapped, her tiny hands shoved at his chest. He didn’t budge an inch.

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it. Liza, I’m fucking amazing at what I do. Sure, I’ll show up battered and bruised after every mission but I’ll always come back to you. Always.” He attempted to convey his words with his eyes. He has never uttered a more truthful statement than that one. “I’ll never leave you alone. Not like you’re trying to do to me. Please don’t leave me alone, baby. Please.” She let him rest her forehead against hers, her eyes squeezed shut. She didn’t object when he pressed his lips against hers, so Alexander decided that that was a start.

He pulled away from her when he heard the sound of a car, laced their fingers together and gently led her into the dimly lit street. He shoved her behind him when he heard their attacker groan. He prepared to kick his head again, halting his movement at the sound of his boss’s sharp tone.

“Leave him be, Hamilton.”

“Yes, sir.” Alexander retreated immediately, watching George Washington stagger out of the black SUV. He hid a smirk. His boss had been quite the agent back in his days, but it was obvious his glory days on the field were behind him.

Washington barked orders at the men accompanying him and they got to work, dragging the body into the back of the car, binding his wrists behind him. He almost wanted to usher Eliza away but figured tonight could be a bit of an insight into what his job was. He was damn sure that no one was ever going to touch a hair on Eliza’s head, that she was going to be kept mostly in the dark as long as he was with the agency (not a requirement, but his own preference) but knew she needed to see a piece of a relatively easy case.

“Who’s this?” Washington’s tone was a lot softer now that he realized a lady was present.

Alexander resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t pull Eliza closer or more into the light. He wanted his two lives to remain as separate as they could. But he never lied to his boss and he never planned to. “Sir, this is Eliza. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Hello.” Eliza’s sweet, hesitant tone was like music to Hamilton’s ears. He had to get her home.

“Lovely to meet you.” The older man’s tone was stiff, a bit too cordial. Alexander knew he was going to get an earful on Monday. “Hamilton, Monday morning. 6 am sharp.”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as the brake lights of the SUV was gone, Alexander turned to Eliza, crowding her into the nearest wall. “Can it be my turn to patch you up?”

“I can do that myself.” Eliza smiled fondly at him, her face obviously worn out.

“It’s the principle behind the idea, baby.”

It wasn’t until later, much later, that Eliza brought it up again. The pair was resting together in the bath at Eliza’s apartment, her bare back was flush against his chest, head lulled back into the crook of his neck. They were silent for a long time after their initial return home. He was scooping palmfuls of the hot water on the skin of Eliza’s upper stomach that wasn’t covered. He always tried to enjoy every rare moment of peace they had.

Eliza’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “I won’t ever leave you alone.” She said simply before her arm reached behind them to tangle in his shoulder-length hair.

He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, kissing there lightly. “I know.”

[reapers-carino]

Can you do a Yakuza AU (if you're not comfortable with that than just normal) with hand x reader where their home is raided and reader is held hostage and hanzo has to watch a little as she is beat up or groped or something before he can save her and kill them? And then a lil fluffy smut along the lines of like "I could've lost you" or "I'll never let them hurt you"

((Yakuza Hanzo…is like my greatest weakness…holyshit thaaaank you for this request you lovely person you))

Japanese summers were absolutely stifling; the suffocating humidity combined with the sweltering heat left people in a constant state of lethargy and irritability. But in the same hand, they were incredibly beautiful in their uniqueness to only Japan; the festivals, fireworks, seasonal delicacies, variety of vibrant and unique yukatas all accompanied by the singing of cicadas. It made suffering through the intense weather worth it. But something was wrong…the cicadas around the Shimada-gumi’s summer estate had gone silent.

“Hanzo?”

Your voice was soft, still thick with sleep as you felt your husband’s arms untangle from around your waist, your body instantly rousing when the comforting heaviness of his touch was gone. Confused wakefulness began to course through you as your bleary eyes cleared, watching as your shirtless husband pulled one of his gun’s from his nightstand, hands quickly loading the weapon and pointing it at the door. You felt your heart begin to thunder in your chest as you pushed yourself up, Hanzo flashing one finger back at you as he took a half step towards the bedroom door. He was still shirtless, his raven hair hastily pushed back from his face but not tied up, the muscles of his back and shoulders tense. Your own body went tense as you heard a crash from downstairs, a muffled curse followed by the sound of more crashing.

Someone had gotten into the estate.

This was not the first time this had happened and you were sure that it wouldn’t be the last; the Shimada-gumi may not have been the biggest Yakuza faction in Japan but they were one of the strongest. That painted a very pretty target on any and all Shimada or Shimada associates’ back. Assassins, kidnappers, blackmailers, hell, even the occasional paparazzi had managed to sneak onto the estate, all looking for something that could bring the Yakuza faction to their knees. Still, none had made it into the main house. Most ended up snuffed out by their small army of Shimada hired bodyguards or security bots near the front gates, the more insistent trespasser making it to the gardens before being shut down. They weren’t in the main Shimada estate, however.

Hanzo had surprised you with a month-long trip to Hokkaido; the two of you visiting the various estates, onsens and even small castles that the Shimadas’ owned in the northern region, handling business on the side but mostly enjoying one another’s company. While your travel security detail had been with the both of you, it was light compared to the amount that stayed around on the main estate. Still, the travel schedule had been strictly need to know, meaning that someone had either hacked their itinerary or one of your trusted employees had divulged that information. Regardless, it appeared that you and Hanzo were on your own for the time being.

As quietly and quickly as you could, you groped at the nightstand until your fingers wrapped around your phone. You forced yourself to look away from your husband’s back, fingers dancing across the touchscreen in a practiced manner, activating the panic feature that had been built into the device. It sent a notification out to the elders, Genji, the entirety of the Shimada security detail and several police stations that were in the pocket of the family. Because of your location, you knew it would be at least two hours before someone arrived, the both of you just had to manage until then. You moved as silently as you could, Hanzo not turning to look at you as you lightly placed your hand on his back.

“I called”, you murmured, voice barely rising above a whisper, taking a half step closer and pressing your body against his back. Touching him calmed you, the heat from his body easily bleeding through the lace and chiffon of the cream negligee you wore, ebbing the racing of your heart. “Two hours…should we–?”

Your body jumped as you felt Hanzo go stock still against you, the sound of someone right outside the door making your blood run cold. The small estate you were in tonight had been upgraded back in 2050 to be more automated; biometric-based security systems, HD security cameras, holo-pad controlled HVAC and appliances and hidden lights that responded to physiological changes in the rooms they were installed in. The security system in the home was, or was supposed to be, heavily encrypted. But you watched as Hanzo adjusted his hold on the gun, the soft, electronic sounds of beeping sounding off through the door before several tiny clicks sounded. The biometric pad next to the door turned from red to green, Hanzo taking several steps back, arm reaching and pushing you further behind him.

“Ah ah, I would put the weapon down! Unless you want your pretty little wife to watch us blow a hole in you.”

Your hand curled into a fist against Hanzo’s back, feeling the angered growl that rumbled through his frame as he sized up the threat in front of the both of you. You could feel the vicious, snarling energy of his twin dragons rippling from beneath his tattoo, sending waves of warning heat through your left arm and your own white ink tattoo. All Shimadas’ were marked with a sign of the dragons, whether by becoming of age if you were blood related or marriage once you had been proven worthy. While unable to actually summon a dragon, the tattoo tied you to your husband and symbolized you were to be protected by his dragons. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his mind was running through every possible scenario that could play out, silently assessing their chances of getting out of here through brute force alone. Gulping thickly, you could see the slight twitch in his shoulders as his hand tightened around his gun before lowering it, the weapon clattering to the floor loudly as he raised his hand.

“Name your demands”, Hanzo said smoothly, his deep voice even despite the danger. His words were sharp, commanding, taking charge despite the fact that he was at a disadvantage; just as the head of the Shimada-gumi should. His right arm remained raised but his left was behind him, keeping you safely tucked behind his body, shielding your both from seeing and being seen by them.

“Oh we will”, the obvious leader remarked snidely, his voice nasally and grating. There was a chorus of laughter that sounded from behind him before he snapped. “Grab ‘em!”

Your husband snarled at the men, stepping back and trying to guard you before the butt of a pistol swung out and connected with his left temple, stunning the man.

“Hanzo!”

Your arms wrapped around Hanzo’s middle as his body wavered, squeaking softly as you and Hanzo fell. Pulling him tight against your body, you were finally able to see the men that dared to attack the Shimada-gumi. There were five of them clustered around the door, the red oni tattooed on the side of their neck clearly indicating what faction they were from. Dogs from the Horikoshi-gumi. The Shimada and Horikoshi factions had been locked in a bloody battle, the latest fight taking out the second lieutenant from the Horikoshi gang. Last you heard though, was Hanzo and Ryota, their leader, had come to an agreement, a truce to end the bloodshed. Apparently his men hadn’t heeded the memo. The scrawny man in front leered at you, a wide grin breaking across his face, revealing a mouth full of golden teeth.

“You heard me boys, grab ‘em! Let’s take them downstair so we can put on a real show.”

It felt as if a nail had been driven through the left side of his head, Hanzo biting back the groan of pain that threatened to fall from his lips. The throbbing in his skull was only matched by thrum of heat beating in his arms, the dragons twisting and snarling, waiting to lash out for their master.

“Real shame you had to go and marry a Shimada. You’re real pretty. Sweet little thing like you would look real nice on my arm.”

“The only shameful thing right now is being touched by the likes of you”, you stated coldly, venom in your calmly spoken words.

Hanzo forced his eyes open, his lip curling up in a silent snarl of pain as light flooded his senses, lids fluttering until he could see clearly. His wrists had been bound together and he had been left in a kneeling position while unconscious. Hanzo barely tilted his face, assessing the room quickly before he lost the advantage of no one knowing he was awake. It appeared that they had dragged the both of you into the tea room, the size of the room comfortably seating the dozen or so men that appeared to have been stationed in there. Hanzo felt his stomach twist tight in both anger and worry as his eyes connected with you, his fists clenching tight as he resisted the urge to lash out.

Your face had settled into a stony mask, full lips drawn in a tight line of anger, eyes staring directly ahead at the wall. You sat in seiza, shoulders rolled back and head held high, back ramrod straight with your hands curled tightly in your lap. The right sleeve of your gown had been torn, your hair was disheveled and several strands hung in your face, your braid almost completely loosed. Despite the leering men around you and the precarious situation the two of you were in, you still gave off the aura of a perfect lady. Two men stood on either side of you, the man that had struck Hanzo before was walking back and forth in front of you.

“Think you’re so high and mighty don’t you bitch? You think we don’t know you were one of them little hostess sluts?”

“I may have been a hostess but I had class unlike you”, you scoffed, gaze still refusing to meet his. The man growled hand flying out and grabbing you by the hair, fingers tangling deep into your locks and yanking your head up.

“Get your hands off of her!”

The man’s hold on your hair slackened for a brief second before tightening, a manic titter lifting from his throat. Your eyes flew to Hanzo’s, the mask of fearless indifference cracking into unadulterated relief and abject distress as the man holding your hair shook you with a leering grin. Your lips pursed tight, refusing to reward the man with a cry of pain, a shameful blush burning across your cheeks as the cretin moved behind you and grabbed your throat with his free hand.

“Well good morning sunshine”, the man exclaimed, a sneer settling on his lips as he glared down at Hanzo. Chuckles followed from around the room, the low-ranking lackeys smirking wickedly at their eyes darted from their boss and you to the bound Hanzo. “Woke up just in time to see me play with your pretty little whore! If anything happens to her, it’s all on you buddy! Shouldn’t have fucked with us!”

Hanzo made a move to stand only to have two hands clap down on his shoulders and yank him back to the floor. Your eyes went round, struggling against the hold, a raucous laugh rising as the both of you protested the treatment of the other. A cry was finally wrested from your lips as you felt the hand of the man drag down from your throat, playing with the edge of your gown brusquely. Your eyes frantically locked with your husband, seeing the discernable rage in his gaze, his body struggling against the men before going completely still. His brow was furrowed, more in concentration now rather than anger as he stared at you, silently exuding calm your way. He was telling you to ‘focus on him’. You blinked several times, the tears that rested in your eyes rolling down your cheeks, as you gave a fraction of a nod to your head.

“Is this all of them”, Hanzo asked simply, ignoring the incredulous bark of laughter that bounced through the room.

“Y-yes”, you answered, your eyes darting around before looking back to your husband’s as realization began to dawn on you. A soft astonished laughed fell from your lips as the gangster yanked at your hair once more, earning yet another laugh from you.

“What the fuck is so funny?!”

“You and your men”, you started, voice slightly strained in pain as he tugged harder at your hair, confidence returning to your face. “You are foolish men who have made a grave error. You never corner a dragon.”

“Just what the fu–”

“Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!”

You winced, not allowing your eyes to fully shut, as the room filled with bright, brilliant bursts of cyan light. Hanzo’s twin dragons burst forth from his arm, a deafening roar filling the small space as Yuuki and Ame tore their way through the men, circling around the room and hitting every target. The dragons, like their master, were thorough in their ferocity; ripping through the bodies of the men and completely disintegrating them with their magic energy. A reassured smiled tugged at your lips as the dragons reached you, the hand holding your hair finally releasing you and allowing you to drop back to the ground fully. It felt like a summer breeze was blowing around you, warm and soothing and peaceful, your own tattoo thrumming as the dragons danced around you briefly before surging back to their master. Your eyes fluttered open, briefly looking around the emptied before connecting with Hanzo.

“Hanzo!”

You cried out for your husband, scrambling forward and hastily untying the ropes that bound his wrists. As soon as his arms were freed, you threw your arms around his neck, the man’s strong arms wrapping around you as he fell back onto his rear. Your hands shook as you pulled back slightly, finger touching the bruise to the side of his face gingerly a sympathetic whimper rumbling in your throat. Your fingers continued to dance over his skin, he doing the same to you in return, both of you worriedly examining one another. You flinched as you felt Hanzo’s hand graze the top of your negligee, gulping hard as your eyes locked back onto his anger darkened amber eyes.

“I was so scared”, you forced out, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, tears springing to your eyes. He pressed back, his hands lifting to hold either side of your face gently, thumbs rubbing in slow circles. “They hit you and you were out…and they dragged us down here and you weren’t moving Han. You weren’t moving…and they…they said…I could’ve lost you…”

“I am so sorry beloved”, he breathed out, tilting his head up and pressing a hard kiss to your lips to silence your anxious rambling, a soft sob falling against his lips. “I will never let them hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you again. I will protect you til my dying breath.”

“No dying”, you corrected, your sob and laugh morphing together as you kissed him back hard.

Kissing him made everything feel better, your arms wrapping hard around his neck as you tried to press yourself closer to him. You needed to touch him, feel him and it seemed that the feeling was mutual, the both of you drawing consolation from one another. Hanzo’s hands pulled away from your face, trailing downwards in a soothing manner, thumbs lightly massaging at your throat then at your collarbone and shoulders before dropping to the neckline of your negligee. His touch was gentle, tender, pushing away the mental remnants of that cretin’s hands on you. You whined as he broke away from your lips, softly shushing you as he kissed the corner of your lips then your jaw and your jaw. He gently nudged your face with his nose, a silent query for permission that you quickly granted by tilting your head up for him. He kissed where the man’s hand had been so tightly wrapped around, drawing soft sighs from your lips before dipping lower.

“Han…”

Your hands tightened on his shoulder, in no way stopping the man but steadying yourself in his lap as his beard grazed the swell of your breast. He softly shooshed you again, hand coming up to run over your cheek before it moved to undo the button at the nap of your neck. The gown slackened slightly around your shoulders, Hanzo pausing to run his fingers over and through your hair, completely undoing your braid before his hands dragged back up to your shoulders. He pushed your nightgown down, your arms dropping, the soft, translucent fabric to pool at your waist. Soft sighs and whimpers of appreciation tumbled from your lips as his lips drew downwards, back arching as he captured one of your nipples in his mouth. Your hands dragged to the back of his head, pushing him closer, fingers tangling into his hair.

His touch, his lips, the soft words of endearment spoken against your skin drove away the fear of losing him, the thoughts of being touched by another. Your fingers scratched lightly at his scalp, his calloused hands running up and down your sides and over whichever breast wasn’t currently in his mouth. He lowered you gently to the floor, his mouth leaving your sensitive nub, eyes boring into yours lovingly. Gently cupping his cheek you smiled, other hand gently coaxing him back to your lips and kissing him earnestly. Heat was rolling lazily in your core, the emotional need to be coupled with your husband winning out over the physical demand for it.

“Please”, you breathed out as the both of you broke away, stars in your eyes as you looked at him. You peppered soft, adoring kisses to his lips through your words, unrushed, tender shows of affection and want. “Hanzo, please?”

He smiled at you, a rare expression that you hoarded greedily and proudly, his gaze soft yet hungry for you. He assented, nodding and gently nudging his forehead against yours, placing one more kiss against your lips. You loosed your hold around his neck as he pulled back, his hands pushing his silk night trousers and underwear down. Eyes dipping downward, you shivered as your eyes took in the sight of his thick cock, already dripping with precum. Hanzo’s hand lightly tilted your chin up, your eyes locking as he slowly crawled over your body. You laid back with him over you, shivering hard as his lips pressed into yours, whimpering softly as his hands pushed your gown up. The warmth of his hands made your skin tingle wherever they roamed, sighing needily as he gently massaged at your bare hips, spreading your legs for him as his hands dragged to your thighs.

“Hm!”

You whined against his lips, back arching as his hand grinded insistently at your mound, fingers slowly rolling around your sensitive nub. He smiled against your lips, catching your moans as her rubbed your wet slit, fingers barely dipping into your core. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck, pulling him closer to you and whining piteously at his teasing motions.

“Han please”, you breathed against his lips as he dragged his hand over your clit once more, gently clawing at his shoulders.

“Of course beloved”, Hanzo murmured, pulling his hand away from your cunt before moving further your legs.

The both of you groaned as Hanzo lightly brushed his cock against your entrance, your hands tightening against his shoulders once more. Your breath hitched as he began to push into you, toes curling and hips rolling as the head slipped inside. Hanzo’s head fell to your shoulder as he set a steady, lazy pace, his lips and tongue pressing gently into the skin of your neck. There was no rush in either of your movements, hands falling to either side of your head, Hanzo’s hands intertwining with yours.

“You are mine”, he moaned against your skin as he nibbled at your pulse points. You gave a loan moan of agreement, nodding your head dazedly as he gave a slight snap of his hip. “Made just for me beloved. Only mine to touch, dearest. Mine to protect.”

His words were possessive but not aggressive, waves of pleasure lapping hungrily at your senses each time he spoke. The words were intimate, loving, his grinding hips and thrusts filled with a need to show you how much he needed you, cared for you. One of his hands released yours, his thrusts getting faster, sloppier as you tightened around him. Butterflies flew in your stomach their numbers expanding as his hands caressed your face tenderly, combing through your hair and moaning your name in such a sweet, loving voice.

“H-Hanzo”, you whimpered, body being carted towards.a.point of no return. Your mind was filled with thoughts of him, your darling husband, of his words and his caresses, of the sweet nothings the slurred together as he hungrily kissed and nipped at your skin. Nothing from earlier remained, only him and his affections and his cock coaxing you towards your edge. Your eyes slipped closed, fireworks dancing behind your lids as you came, Hanzo’s strokes picking up as he fell right along with you. You could feel the warmth of his seed fill you, your walls milking him hungrily, taking all of him in. All you could do was squeeze his hands tight, free hand wrapping around his neck to press him close and sobbing words of agreement to him. “Yours, all yours dear husband. Just for you. You just for me. Oh Hanzo I love you, I love you I love you.”

“I love you too my beloved wife”, he said through gentle kisses, body still shivering as he fell atop you, his weight a welcomed warmth.

It took several moment for the both of you to regain your bearings; Hanzo redressing you and himself, picking you up bridal style (despite your insistence you could walk) and laying you in the bed while telling you to sleep, that he would take care of the rest. You assented to him this time, only requiring one stipulation: that he stay until you fell asleep. And so he did, brushing your hair and face until you were lulled into dreamland comfortably.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | March 2017

❤ THANK YOU TO ALL WRITERS FOR YOUR HARD WORK AND FOR SHARING YOUR STORIES! ❤ Top 5 + 11 more stories under the cut:

Feels Like Coming Home

by phdmama  | exes to lovers | alcohol abuse & recovery | trauma | mental health | 60k The last thing Harry Styles expects when he's hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that's exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn't heard one word from Louis, and he's moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he's a chef, isn't easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he'd left turn out to be not so easily forgotten. This is a story about love and the power of forgiveness, and how the hard choices we make define us, and change our lives.

Riptide

by FlyingAlwaysInColor | grief/mourning |light Dom/sub | hurt/comfort | mention of rape/non-con | 91k AU in which Louis loses his amazing mum, and is sent on a forced holiday to a luxury spa resort where he meets a green-eyed butterfly-angel and an adventurous Irishman who help him start to heal by administering equal doses of love and laughter.

Perfect Storm

by cherrystreet | fake relationship | 80k What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding. Harry and Louis choose the latter.

When We Were Younger

by waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee | Catfish AU | 76k About a week after Harry started visiting this particular chat room, he was watching some kid argue with the whole room about football, personally disinterested as he tipped a bag of crisps into his mouth. He happily chomped on the crumbs, taking a swig from a glass of Ribena to wash them down, glancing at the screen and very nearly spat the squash back out again. His heart was pounding wildly. The display icon of the argumentative newcomer had caught his eye, and not in a good way. He gulped as he clicked the picture, and when it popped up in full resolution, his heart nearly fell right out of his arse. - Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own.

Catch Me I'm Falling

by FeelsForBreakfast | The Fault In Our Stars AU | Major Character Death | 72k I don’t know if you get to choose who you fall in love with, who ends up taking a little piece of your heart with them when they leave. If someone had asked me, I don’t think I would have chosen Harry Styles, and I don’t know if he’d have chosen me. But standing here, looking back through the crystal clear lens of hindsight, I like my choices. A fic inspired by The Fault In Our Stars.

Them Butterflies

by momentofclarity | First Love | homophobic language & harassment | 68k To sum it all up - Louis is beautiful. Breathtakingly so. And Harry can’t find it in himself to even question the fact that he thinks so. Louis is mesmerising, nearly magnetic with all the energy bouncing off of him. Harry doesn’t know what to make of it, but he knows he doesn’t want this night to end. This is the extraordinarily ordinary AU where Harry falls in love for the first time and Louis learns how to fall in love all over again.

For Angels To Fly

by ithinkhesalwayswonderful | sex worker | 76k Louis isn’t in love with a guy and Harry doesn’t need saving. Neither of these things end up being entirely true.

Far Afield

by QuickedWeen  for the 2017 HL Prompt Challenge | witch!Harry | fluff | 11k Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

by Lis (domesticharry) | pirates | violence | 100k The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him. “Captain,” Malik greeted. Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it. Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles. OR The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

With A Broken Heart And A Ticket Home

by orphan_account | 12k “So, Louis,” Harry turns to him properly now, posture completely at ease, “You seem like an agreeable fellow. How do you propose we entertain ourselves until such a time as we can get on a plane, and get the fuck out of Knock?” Harry and Louis' flight is delayed, and they're the only ones to not get the memo. Cue a night spent in a tiny Irish airport with only each other for company, and the hand of Fate delivering a swift smack on the wrist and a demand to try again.

Elysian

by wonderlou | Beauty And The Beast AU | 81k “What could be it, Niall?” Harry asks gently with a sigh. He slouches down further into his chair, crossing his arms lazily across his chest. He is bored. He has been bored for five years straight, but even more so now that his one interest has shut himself out entirely. Harry had not even heard from Louis, not since last night, not since he had gotten on his nerves so much that he was torn between knocking him out and smiling in surrender to the slight awe he felt. Louis is opinionated like no one he’s ever seen, but his voice is honeyed; high-pitched and indignant. Harry is nothing short of entranced. Or, Harry is running out of time to fall in love, but with Louis, it seems as if there’s all the time in the world.

Like Vines (We Intertwine)

by turnyourankle | Alien AU | 8k The "Roswell" AU where Harry is an alien, Louis is not, and they've both been pining after each other for far too long.

Can't Start A Fire Without A Spark

by larrymylove | enemies to lovers | paparazzi & celebrity | 22k Louis Tomlinson is the pop sensation with his first new single out since taking a personal hiatus from the spotlight. Harry is a paparazzi hired to photograph him during promo. Louis hates paparazzi with a passion, but there’s just something about the pretty young pap with wide green eyes and chocolate curls that Louis can’t shake from his head.

More Or Less

by Saori for 1D Aro-Ace Fic Exchange | 10k “There’s… I’m not in love with you,” he admits, and sees Harry open his mouth to say something but Louis cuts him off. “No, wait, listen to me, okay, I’m not breaking up with you, I don’t want to, I just… I don’t know what I want, not really, didn’t really think about it. It’s… it’s not you; it’s not that I don’t love you, I love you very much. But… I’m not in love with you, I think,” he sighs, frustrated with himself that he can’t say it the way he explained to Lottie. or Louis and Harry have been dating for years when Louis realizes he's aromantic, and have bit hard time with it.

Nora

by waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee for the 2017 HL Prompt Challenge | 8k He made a quick phone call to his mum but it just wasn’t enough to dispel the sad feeling of loneliness in his heart. He’d been used to having someone around these past few years, and the silence was unbearable. Maybe he should get a dog? No. That wasn’t fair, working eight hours a day. Maybe a fish? Don’t be stupid, he told himself. Fish don’t make good company. He giggled to himself at the thought when he was on the bus coming home from work the next afternoon. Loneliness was on his mind again as he prepared to head back to a cold, empty flat. He glanced out the window, sighing, and that’s when he saw it. Cats Protection North London Adoption Centre A little van in front of the centre had a picture of a cat on it and wore the slogan, make your house a home. Louis rang the bell at once and hurried off the bus at the next stop. - Harry works at an adoption centre and lets Louis adopt his favourite cat.

On The Open Road

by MoonlitLarrie | enemies to friends to lovers | 24k Harry and Louis grew up together, they shared childhood and teenage memories, but they never really got along. What happens when they reunite after four years of not seeing each other, and they find out that the person they hated so much is not the same person anymore? Or a short roadtrip!au in which Harry and Louis have to travel together across the US, deal with the past and of course, share a bed.