#i hope this is OKAY !!! i went vague just in case you had a strong pref for tempest being a plus one instead

[judvs]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  malfoy manor, wiltshire  ! 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  :  @ddudleys  !

"have you been to one of these things before?" now that's the kind of question that could get her into trouble, but marietta isn't poking at the wound of not belonging as much as she is sating her own genuine curiosity. she honestly can't remember, and it's not for lack of trying - try as she might, she just can't recall an instance of seeing his now familiar face among the sea of pureblood vipers. she'd like to think that if they'd run across each other before then she'd have said something, gravitated towards him, set the foundation for the friendship they've been building this last year, but she's not an idiot either. doing that would've been letting herself enjoy it, and it's been a while since marietta's let herself do THAT. "general rules of thumb, if you haven't : take it easy on the themed cocktails, cause they're stronger than you're expecting, and avoid anything that looks too good, cause it's usually something that only rich people enjoy - like escargot."

[pkg4mumtown]

Medicine at Midnight

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: A night out with Hotch and his team leads to either the best or worst mistake you could have made.

Content Warnings: smut 18+, alcohol, GN!reader (no Y/N), friends with benefits, strong language, first person POV

A/N: My entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Friends with Benefits Challenge. It also happens to be the first CM fic I’ll be posting but certainly not the last! I’m currently working on a multi-chapter Hotch x Male!Reader fic, so stay tuned. I’ve also added the playlist I used for Hotch inspiration at the end of the post.

Also available on AO3

I barely managed to enter my apartment and drop my gear to the floor when the shrill ringtone of my cellphone broke the otherwise pleasant silence.

Fuck. Me.

I plead to whoever is listening that it’s not my section chief calling about a case. I ripped the cellphone from my pocket, too frustrated to even look at the caller ID as I snapped out my last name.

“Rough night?” came the deep, soothing voice on the other end.

Oh.

“Hey, Aaron,” I sighed and relaxed. “Sorry, I thought it was another case.”

“It’s okay. Are you busy?” He asked and I could hear the slightest hint of hope in his voice.

“Depends on what you’re going to ask me and...what I’ll get in return,” I stressed. “I just got home.”

“I can promise free drinks,” he chuckled, the vibrations buzzing through to my end of the phone. “The team is going out and Dave just went out of town.”

Hotch doesn't need to say more than that for me to understand what he’s asking. He wants a social buffer and for free drinks I’ll do just about anything for him.

~

His team had helped the DC Field Office with a case that I oversaw about six months back. The case had quickly spiraled out of control with multiple unsubs, and I begged my chief to let us call the BAU in for help. While they didn’t swoop in and solve the case in a matter of days, they certainly got it back to a manageable position. What would have taken months of work was quickly cut down to two weeks.

Since it was still relatively local, Hotch’s team would go home every night and come back bright and early. One of the first nights with them on the case, I waved them goodnight; standing like I would be leaving shortly after them. As they disappeared out of sight, I sat back down and stayed firmly planted at my desk. I was still flipping through files over the umpteenth coffee of the day when soft footsteps stopped in front of my desk.

“You’re still here?”

Hotchner.

“Yea, I’m just...” I gestured vaguely to the files. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for anymore. Just hoping I can find something.” I gave him a tight smile as he hovered by my desk. His bag was nowhere in sight, so it was clear he had no plans to leave either.

The grim smile on his face confirmed that he was doing exactly the same.

“I’m sure he's waiting for you at home,” he nodded to the picture on my desk as I went back to looking at the files in front of me.

“That’s my cousin,” I stated without having to look. “No one’s waiting for me, I promise you that. Plus, you don’t seem like you’re leaving either, so...”

“Got me there,” Hotch smirked, shifting his weight nervously as I paid half-attention to him. “I won’t snitch if you won’t? My son is with his aunt, so my apartment is a little depressing.”

At that confession, I looked back up at him as his expression turned crestfallen.

“Deal. You can pull up a chair, if you want.” I suggested, seeing that the floor was pretty much empty now and it seemed cruel to make him sit by himself wherever we were able to stuff his team on the cluttered floor.

This went on for the next two weeks that the BAU worked with us and each night the ice broke a little more. That extra hour or two after the team left progressed from talking about the case to talking about ourselves. It was surprisingly easy considering his personality on a case, but once his defenses came down, he was more relaxed and even threw in a smile that I began to notice was quite rare.

I began noticing his nearly imperceptible antics when he was stressed. His tight expression would feign focus but his white-knuckled grip on whatever was in his hand told a different story. I caught myself pressing a finger to his tight fist throughout the day, making him aware of what he was doing before removing my fingers as soon as his fist loosened. At some point, he stopped straining his hand muscles, but I’d feel his finger pressing firmly against one of mine whenever he was near me. It was usually brief, just enough to feel the ridges on each other’s fingers before his touch was gone.

After the case was over, I never expected to hear from him. Hotch’s number stayed saved in my phone from the case, but never once did I expect to see it flash across my screen while driving home one night. Drinks became a nearly weekly occurrence between the two of us—provided neither of us were on a case—and while nothing more ever happened, I couldn't tell what his endgame was. We chatted about the weeks we both had, family, sorrows—all of it—all the while our hands pressed against each other just to feel another person.

I chalked it up to anxiety for him and loneliness for myself.

~

Despite our nights out together, we never went out with his team, and I hadn't seen them since the case all those months ago. So, it was a little unnerving to accept his invitation. How would he explain us being on friendly terms now despite not knowing each other prior to the case? Would they even care? Does it even matter?

“Uh, sure. Where at? I just need to change,” I answered him.

“I’ll pick you up in twenty?” he asked, and I shouldn’t have been surprised at his need to drive by now.

Control freak.

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

I changed into something more comfortable, but not too comfortable. I didn’t want to look like I wanted to stay home curled on my couch.

Even if that sounded heavenly right now. Hotch could come, too.

When Aaron sent a text to tell me he was here, I was out the door in a few seconds. The inside of his SUV lit up as I opened the door, revealing him dressed in a dark, long-sleeved sweater and jeans.

“Hey,” he greeted me as I climbed in.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

Once I was seated and buckled, I rested my arm on the center console next to his. His sleeves were pushed up to his forearms, his hair tickling my skin as he took off. At the first red light we hit, he adjusted the radio and brought his hand back down to land directly on mine.

He didn’t move it, and I didn’t want him to.

The air was thick with booze and sweat as we entered the bar. It was different from the one Hotch and I usually frequented, preferring something quieter and lower key than this one. It’s crowded, not surprising for a Friday night, but it sure did make it more difficult to locate his team. This time, I'm the one initiating contact, pressing two fingers into his palm as we approached where the team was tucked into a back corner booth. I removed my fingers before they noticed our approach.

“Hotch!” They all greeted him at varying levels of excitement with empty glasses already littering the table.

How long had they been here already?

Morgan had begun moving the team deeper in the booth to make room for us when I recognized a member of their team who I had only seen via a computer screen.

“Hey, nice to see you again,” I greeted everyone, having to raise my voice as the music battled with the overlapping conversations around us. “You must be Garcia,” I reached over and shook her hand as we slid in.

Her excitement was contagious, and I couldn’t help myself from grinning as she spoke and reintroduced the team by first name. There were looks and eyebrows exchanged between the others as they likely wondered exactly what I’d feared, but none of them expressed their questions verbally.

“Drink?” I heard Hotch ask as a waiter came by and I nodded to him, knowing it’ll help my nerves.

I didn’t even need to tell him what drink to order at this point.

“Thanks,” I smiled and felt him shift closer to me until our legs were practically glued together.

It must have been my lucky day because the team kept the conversation topics relatively light as the night wore on. There were plenty of shots going around—Hotch only agreeing to have one with them in solidarity—coupled with food, a few spill mishaps, and raucous laughter. Hotch laughed and smiled with them but not nearly as loudly. He did surprisingly well anxiety-wise, so I wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted me here in the first place. I was having fun, though, and he’d insisted on paying for me, so I didn’t think too hard on it.

My hands were both above the table fidgeting with the condensation on my glass as we loudly discussed the current topic. Hotch tapped his fingers on his glass rhythmically with one hand while the other dropped below and landed on my leg. I jumped at the contact and hoped everyone was too inebriated to notice.

No dice.

Spencer's glassy eyes snapped to my movement briefly, JJ made eye contact across the table with Penelope, Emily stared me dead in the eyes, and Derek stared at Hotch. If I wasn't also in the same line of work, it might not have been so noticeable considering they hadn’t stopped the conversation.

Hotch played it off, slouching back against the booth and laughing at whatever Emily was recanting, looking a little more at ease with the touch.

Now, I notice the difference.

As nonchalantly as possible, he relaxed his arm, slipped his hand between my knees, and tucked his palm under my leg to cup where my hamstring met the bend in my leg. I could feel his warmth through my pants and the way his thumb obsessively traced the inner seam near my knee.

I almost thought they would ignore the way he was leaning noticeably closer, and I was sorely disappointed when Penelope spoke up after Emily finished.

Penelope's eyes were perceptive, and she leaned forward playfully while Derek leaned into her with his arm draped over her shoulder, “So, you two,” she began. Her eyes were twinkling with far too much mischief and now I believed every word from Hotch about how much trouble her and the man next to her got in to together, “You’re...?”

I grinned, laughing off her intrigue and kept my voice as steady as possible, “We’re friends.”

Derek in this state was even more blunt, teasing Hotch further with a smirk playing on his lips, “With benefits?”

Penelope gasped that he followed up with that line while the others hid giggles behind their drinks.

Hotch’s brow furrowed and he lifted his drink off the table as a flush rose up his neck to his cheeks. He took a sip while looking in my direction and I held his gaze. There’s a look I didn’t quite recognize there. “Without sex?” he finally said once he swallowed and set his glass down, “Then, what’s the benefit?”

The entire table erupted into laughter. Derek and Penelope were practically laughing on top of each other, Emily was laughing behind the hand clasped over her mouth with huge, surprised eyes, and Spencer was laughing into JJ's shoulder.

I was just as surprised as them and hadn’t broken eye contact with Aaron yet. His hand had reassuringly squeezed my leg as he smirked to let me know he was joking. With a challenging glint in my eyes, I finally responded as the laughter died down a bit. “My delightful company, asshole,” I shoved him with my shoulder. “And someone to talk to and...did I mention my winning personality?”

Hotch laughed, closing his eyes and leaned heavily back into me. He moved his hand from my leg to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side.

“Dick,” I murmured playfully through a fake frown.

Aaron just slid over a leftover shot as consolation.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but the sudden mention of sex has me sweating underneath my clothes. Hotch’s heavy arm and sweater did nothing to help that. It wasn’t like I was unaware of his attractiveness; I was simply unsure of his intentions considering we had never spoke about our relationship. There were plenty of times I had to talk myself out of kissing him despite how easy it would have been, but the look in his eyes when he said that had me digging up all those thoughts again.

It wasn’t a terrible idea. We were both single, busy, and hung out enough as it was. I liked to think were both mature enough to handle something like that. I took another long swig of my drink with a deep frown that I didn’t realize was there.

“You okay?” he dropped his head to murmur close to my ear.

He snapped me out of my thoughts, and I gave him a reassuring grin, “Yea.”

The bar crowd grew thinner and thinner as time passed. Reid looked like he could fall asleep any second and JJ was the only barrier holding him up. The team soon rose, promising to take cabs home to reassure their boss that they were all responsible adults.

Derek gave Aaron one last sly smirk before following Penelope and the others. Hotch just shook his head at him with an amused sigh.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Aaron murmured once they were gone, his voice low now that the bar was much quieter than it was hours ago.

“Of course. It was fun,” I leaned my head on his shoulder.

Despite the absence of the others, he didn’t retract his arm, and my heart started pounding a little faster at the thought. His touch felt more intimate after all that and it made my thoughts race.

How much was I reading into this? How wrong was I? And did I want to do something about it?

“Ready to go? It’s almost midnight,” He asked.

I nodded, finishing my drink.

The drive back to my place was quiet and I fiddled with his hand the entire drive. Between that and my constant looking over at him, he definitely knew something was wrong.

“What’s on your mind?” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a quick glance but refocused his eyes back on the road immediately.

“Hmm?”

“You’re being weird. Is it what I said back there? Because I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he gave me his full attention once he pulled up in front of my building.

“No, no, you’re fine,” I squeezed his fingers. “Just a lot on my mind,” I sighed. I looked out at my apartment building next to us and pursed my lips.

Fuck it.

“You—uh—wanna come up?”

There was absolutely no other reason for me to ask that. He had to know why I was asking without me saying it outright.

Right?

My nerves were on fire and my mind raced with all the possibilities he could come back with. Silent, Hotch took a beat to think and reached for the keys in the ignition, “Sure.”

Oh.

I was hyper aware of Aaron’s presence as he followed me upstairs to my apartment door. My hands were practically shaking with anticipation as I fiddled with the keys. Once I was inside, I left the door open for him and heard him lock it behind me. The click cemented my determination on the matter.

“Make yourself at home,” I nodded toward the couch and started flipping lights on. “Want something to drink?”

“I still have to drive,” he declined, his eyes following me to the kitchen.

“You can always stay here,” I reached up into my cabinets for two glasses and poured a drink for myself and a scotch for Hotch.

“Is that so?” His voice rumbled behind me, much closer than he had been a few seconds ago.

When the hell did he sneak up on me?

I turned to face him, finding him far closer than I imagined. I passed him his drink, which he took a tall sip of, and I hurried to catch up.

That sip must have given him the courage he needed because he set the glass back on my counter and took another step forward. His hand found my waist with a light touch. It wasn’t hesitant by any means, but light enough to ask permission to continue. Unlike the nervous movements in his hands earlier, his hands were confident and intentional now.

“Is this okay?”

“—eah,” I struggled to say as my voice got caught in my throat.

Hotch took the glass from my hand and set it behind me, crowding what little space I had left. We were tense with anticipation as we both leaned in, giving each other enough time to back out. His nose brushed mine, then his lips, before he was fully pressed against me. His tongue flicked out making me gasp and open mine wider. My hands slid under his sweater, feeling his warm skin beneath my fingers. We stayed like that; exploring, consuming, devouring until there was a pause between us. The was air heavy with desire and our breathing.

As I caught my breath, I reached back and grabbed my glass, taking the opportunity to throw back the last of the liquid. Aaron did the same, keeping his eyes fixated on the way my lips wrapped around the glass. I left my glass on the counter and took his hand, tugging him toward my bedroom. I heard his glass clatter on the counter as he left it behind in a rush to follow me.

I threw him a look over my shoulder and tugged my top off, throwing it off to the side. Aaron didn’t need to be encouraged anymore further and ripped his hand out of mine to follow suit. Clothes and shoes were haphazardly discarded until there was nothing left between us. I barely had time to sift through my drawer for the essentials before he was grabbing me around the waist and tugging me onto the mattress. His mouth reconnected with mine, his fingers digging into the mattress as his hips ground down against mine.

“Fuck me, please,” I panted as soon as our mouths separated.

“Gladly.”

He blindly reached for the condom I tossed near him. Once he located it, his oversized fingers fumbled with the packaging. The task was eventually accomplished with minimal difficulty and only a couple giggles as he accidentally pinched himself. The laughter eased the butterflies in my stomach, and I hoped this wouldn’t fuck up whatever we had going for us prior to tonight.

Aaron quickly snatched the bottle of lube and coated his fingers generously. As his fingers pressed against my entrance, I whined in anticipation and wriggled my hips to get him moving. I watched his eyes flutter shut as he put more pressure, jaw dropping in concentration as he focused. As soon as his fingers breached, he couldn’t help himself.

I felt the wet heat of his mouth descend on me, his tongue swirling and lips sucking on my overly sensitive skin. I was torn between tilting my head back to enjoy the feeling and wanting to watch his mouth work. I finally decided to look down, my breath catching as I saw his eyes already trained on me through his lashes. His cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as he sucked making me reach to grab his hair for any sort of purchase. The noises that came from him were sinful and I eventually had to pull his head away once I felt myself ready.

“Need you, please,” I pulled him up to me, feeling him pull his fingers out gently.

We were both understandably impatient with the mix of alcohol and lust. He reached for a pillow with his clean hand and stuffed it under my hips for a better angle. With one last pass of lube over the condom, I felt the blunt press of him against me.

“I’ve got you,” his breath stuttered as he guided himself inside slowly.

My fingers dug into his shoulders as he bottomed out before moving down his back and urging him to go. I let out a moan of relief as his hips started moving, rocking into me slowly at first. Without warning, his mouth sealed over mine and swallowed the gasp I let out as he sharply thrusted, hitting exactly where I need him to.

“More,” I mumbled against his lips.

Aaron was efficient, even now, and repeated himself until I was a whining mess underneath him. He sat up, making enough space to slip his hand between us. I clenched involuntarily as his calloused fingers stroked me, bringing me that much closer to release.

“You feel so good,” he panted. “Squeeze me again.”

I do as he asked, squeezing around him each time he pulls out. The groans pulled from his chest only added fuel to the fire and I didn’t know how I ever survived without hearing them. My hands couldn’t stay still, moving from gripping his arms to running across his collarbone and chest.

“I’m gonna come, I—” I had cut myself off by bringing Hotch’s mouth back down to mine.  My muscles tightened as my release washed over me, fingers digging into whatever I can reach while I clenched around the cock still driving inside me.

Aaron removed his hand from between us, doubling down on his efforts to finish himself. His head tucked into my neck, giving me an even better opportunity to hear Aaron’s moans as he reached his orgasm. His hips stuttered as his release pulsed throughout his body, making him tremble in my arms. When he couldn’t handle the overstimulation anymore, he let himself slip out of me.

He let out a deep hum as we caught our breath, pressing one last kiss to my neck before pushing himself up to his feet. He cleaned himself with a grimace with me not far behind, eager to get the slick substance off my skin. I headed straight back to bed, flopping on the slightly sweaty sheets.

I’m too tired to fix that, I decided.

“I meant it, you can stay,” I mumbled in the dark as I heard his movement pause somewhere between the bed and the bathroom. “Don’t need you getting behind the wheel right now.”

“Mm, thanks,” his sleepy voice returned.

The bed dipped beside me and soon the length of his body was pressed against my back.

~

A sharp jolt pulled me out of my deep slumber. Through the haze I finally I heard the piercing ringtone of a phone. It’s not mine, I realized as I listen to it a second longer. The bed shifted next to me and frantic footsteps thudded across my floor as Aaron looked for his phone.

If he ended up with a case, it was going to massively suck for his hungover team.

“Hey, Jess,” he answered in a far less panicked tone than his feet originally suggested. “Uh, yea. Yea, one is good. Okay, see you then.”

He came back into the room with a more relaxed posture than when he left. He sat on the edge of the bed on the side I was still curled up on, watching him move with sleepy eyes.

“Just Jessica letting me know she’s dropping off Jack at my place at one,” he relayed.

A quick glance at the clock let me know it was only 10:00 AM, which wasn’t bad considering the night we had.

Aaron's hand found my ankle through the sheets, letting his hand glide up to my calf and back down. His face was contemplative though not as outwardly noticeable as the way I chewed the inside of my cheek.

He spoke first.

“That was,” he started, letting a smirk spread over his features, “fun.”

“It was. I…wouldn’t mind if it happened again.”

“Me either,” he punctuated with a squeeze of my calf.

There was a comfortable silence for a minute until he spoke up again, “I’m just—I'm not really looking to—.” He stopped and started again, “Since Haley died I—I’m just not...”

He didn’t have to explain to me the fact that his ex-wife slash high school sweetheart being murdered had done a number on his psyche. I didn’t blame him.

“I get it, Aaron. I’m not either. I’m way too busy and—I just don’t want to,” I replied. It wasn’t a total truth, but it also wasn’t a total lie. I was too busy but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.

For Aaron, though? I would take what he gave me.

He relaxed a little, his eyes a little sad and I wondered if he could see right through me.

I hope he didn’t.

“I should go,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek while the other side was pressed into my pillow.

When he pulled away, I turned my head to really look at him head on, not expecting him to come back down and kiss me again. This time on my lips, slowly and sensually; a far cry from the desperation last night.  When my eyes opened, he was already up and looking for his clothes.

“I’ll see you next weekend?” I rubbed my hands over my face, sitting up as he gets dressed.

He flashed me a look as if to say “obviously” and threw my discarded top at my face.

“Be careful,” I called after him.

“You, too,” he paused, patting his jeans to make sure all of his belongings were in order. When he was satisfied, he gave me a gentle smile and headed in the direction of my front door.

“Lock the door behind me!” he yelled back before opening the front door and shutting it behind him.

I rolled my eyes and flopped back over onto the bed on my side. I still smelled his scent on my sheets and wondered how I could have thought that this would be a good idea.

~

Ever get the feeling nothing else will do?

I could hear you singing

I can’t explain, I need

Medicine at midnight

But it ain’t no cure

Medicine at midnight howling

But it ain’t no cure

I may be sick but you know I’m yours

-Medicine at Midnight, Foo Fighters

[yanderecrazysie]

I hope you love brother’s conflict, it was a one of the shows that awaken the yandere kink in me.

So for my request can I have yandere subaru (my favorite brother) with a rival team reader. Like I know this boy is all about sports and basketball and he is pretty competitive in both anime and the webnovel. So how would he take reader despite being smaller, weaker than him beat him at basketball. Maybe after his defeat he forms an obsession in beating them so he unintentionally stalks them for a bit but only to learn their techniques and sports regimeb but as he observes how their actually like him, working hard for their passion. I can see him and reader being intentionally paired up (intentionally with subaru family backing the event) for a cross team sports bonding event

It was pretty good! I’m not usually into that kind of anime, but I could sense the yandere-ness so it was a fun watch! I kind of went off the request a little, hope that’s okay!

Also, I know nothing about basketball, so I tried to leave it vague. Let’s just pretend that boys teams play girls teams for some reason, okay?

Title: Taken By Surprise

Pairings: Asahina Subaru x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, slight misogyny

Summary: Subaru underestimated you and the attraction he feels for you.

30 seconds left on the clock.

Sweat dripped down Subaru’s face as he tried to get ahold of the ball. Stolen again by the pretty number 3. Her ponytail cut through the air as she dribbled the ball to the other side of the court and, before he could stop her, leapt into the air. 

The ball left her hands and sank through the hoop without touching the rim. The ball had just barely hit the ground when the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and a heavy loss for Subaru’s team.

He had thought it would be easy to beat a girls’ team. Boys were stronger, after all. But the girls team was strong, especially their number 3. You.

Subaru watched as you high-fived your teammates, glowing with victory. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. That should be his victory that you stole. And he couldn’t figure out how you had done it.

There was something so graceful about the way you played. The way your body soared through the air, the way you landed after a jump, the way you ran across the court- it was all done in a way he’d never seen before.

It made him feel awkward and clumsy just watching you.

There had to be some sort of secret behind your moves. A secret technique that he couldn’t see in the excitement of the game. 

And he wanted to know just what it was.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Subaru was lucky that you attended the same college that he did. That way, he could end practice a little early with the excuse that he felt under the weather, and cut across the grass field separating the girls’ gym from the boys’.

He had to stand on a fire hydrant to see through the high windows of the gym, but it was worth it. He could spot you right away- your pretty hair tied back as you ran across the waxed floors, basketball bouncing beside you.

He couldn’t understand what technique you could possibly have that was better than his. You were a girl, smaller than him, weaker than him… What did you have that he didn’t? What magic did you possess to make you naturally so much better than him?

For one, you were lithe and quick, making it easy for you to steal the ball and cross the gym with it. You could duck under his lanky arms and outpace him easily. Two, you seemed intelligent enough to outplay him in some cases.

For some reason, he kept thinking back to the times you were close to him during the game. So close that he could feel your body heat. How almost adorable it was that you were trying to guard him when you couldn’t measure up to his size or strength.

Watching from this angle, he could appreciate your gracefulness even more. You were like a butterfly flitting weightlessly across the court, yet a force to be reckoned with once you got the ball. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee really fits someone like you. He thought.

Practice ended too quickly for him to figure out your secret. He knew, logically, that he should wait for tomorrow’s practice, but when you slipped out of the gym, smiling brightly as you waved goodbye, he couldn’t help but follow you. He lagged behind you, ducking behind hedges and cutting through front lawns, buzzing with excitement to see your secret routine.

Unfortunately for him, you went straight inside your house once you arrived, not stopping to mess around with the hoop attached to your garage. He considered going home, but something drew him nearer.

He checked through each window. Living room, kitchen, main bedroom, hallway, and, finally, your bedroom. Deep in his quickly-beating heart, he knew this is where he wanted to be. He took a position in the hedges and watched as you lay down on your bed and began to play on your phone.

This wasn’t what he had planned. You weren’t playing basketball, not even in mobile game form. And yet, here he was, watching you through the window like a creep. He knew he had crossed a line, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when you had such a pretty smile on your lips.

It was the first time he’d considered that his fascination with you had less to do with your basketball skills and more to do with, well, you.

And he wasn’t sure he could stop.

[letsrilakkusu-blog]

A Little Life, a lot of pain

I'm late to the party, but I just finished reading A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara and wow, I am not okay. I'm restarting this blog solely because I need a space to talk about it.

I struggled to keep up with my reading last year because I chose several books that ended up being less than stellar. To start off 2023, I was between A Little Life and Kamusari Tales Told at Night, the follow-up to The Easy Life in Kamusari by Shion Miura. Although daunting in subject matter and length, I went with A Little Life because I figured it was better to start with a heavy book and have a lighter book ready in the reserves for after.

- SPOILERS AHEAD -

I had a vague idea of the plot, only that it followed a group of four friends and that there were a lot of trigger warnings involved. The book starts off innocently enough with the four vastly different but incredibly close guys trying to make it in New York City. Soon it takes a turn to focus on Jude though, and the deeper into his past and psyche we go, the darker it gets. My heart broke and kept on breaking with Jude's every memory detailing abuse of every kind imaginable, his every self-inflicted wound, his every revelation about what an abomination he is and how little he is worth, despite all of the evidence to prove otherwise.

I don't know what I was expecting - the cover photo says a lot, and once the novel does its first shift in perspective to Harold speaking to Willem, in which he seems to speak of Jude as though he is no longer there, I had an inkling of how it would end. Still, I somehow deluded myself multiple times into thinking that maybe, just maybe, the story wasn't going to end with Jude killing himself. And I think the reason why is because the joyous moments of Jude's life - the times spent with his friends-turned-family, Harold and Julia's decision to adopt him, the start of his romantic relationship with Willem, which I had hoped for from the beginning but didn't actually believe would happen - were so unbelievably poignant and beautiful, how could I not wish for a happier, or at least less tragic, ending for this character that has been through so much and deserves every happiness bestowed upon him and more? It's like I was reading a marathon in which I thought that if I got through a particularly bad section (his relationship with Caleb, his memories of Brother Luke and Dr. Traylor), I would be rewarded with a brief respite, a tender moment that would make my heart soar and tears well up in my eyes. It was only after Willem's death, which sucker-punched me in the gut out of nowhere, that I realized I had probably reached the point of no return. Still, I barrelled toward the end, sobbing, hoping, pleading just like Jude's loved ones, and when the end result was what I had originally dreaded, I was left shocked but not shocked, helpless, and empty.

While the story completely wrecked me, I believe that it is a very realistic portrayal of trauma and recovery, and the effects they have on not just the person experiencing it, but those around them. Trauma is deeply personal and isolating. Recovery is not linear, but a lifelong process through which you are never truly “healed”. Sometimes love is just not enough. It wasn't enough for Jude to overcome his fear and hate of sex, and it wasn't enough to keep him going once he lost Willem. I felt that I as a reader was getting pulled along with the same emotions as those around Jude. I grew uneasy every time he withdrew into himself, I felt complacent and accepting when his situation was not better but at least stagnant, I celebrated every triumph, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting, for the day we all knew was inevitable but had fervently wished would never come.

I'm not sure if I would recommend A Little Life to others, especially if I'm not familiar with their tolerance for such heavy topics and themes. Despite that, it's making a strong case for being one of the most amazing books I've ever read, and it will sit with me for a long time to come. It was painful, at times almost too much to bear. But balancing out the pain were the truly beautiful moments of pure joy, the unconditional love and friendship, the things that make our little lives a little better.

[nebulastarr]

Short Story- The Woods

Okay, so y'all remember that Last Line WIP Game where I posted that vague line in neon?

But that is where the story begins

Well this is where it came from.

Disclaimer, this is a short story that I literally thought up in my head

The woods… are a strange thing. 

They take but they also give. Such was the case for Luna. The woods had taken so much from Luna. Her father, her two brothers, and when the woods finally took her mother, Luna wanted to know why the woods had taken everyone she ever loved. 

So, one night, Luna ventured out into the woods. 

She had to know why the woods had taken her family from her. She screamed up at the trees, up at the sky above, hoping that whatever was to blame would hear her. 

That is when it happened. 

As if answering her plea, a bright light shined through the trees. With it came a voice. The voice said:

“Your family was strong enough to handle what I had to offer, Luna. But you are. You are stronger than they ever were. You family came into these woods, and when I showed them what i had to offer, what I could give them, they turned it away. They were not strong enough, they weren’t brave enough, but you are Luna. You can be better than all of them. You could become who you were always meant to be. That, above all else, is why I took your family. In order for you to become the woman you were always destined to be, you had to lose those that you held dear. Join me Luna and step into the light”

I know what you are thinking, that the story ends there,. 

But that is where the story begins. 

2 weeks after she went into the woods, Luna walked back into the village. She was 14 when she went into the woods, but when stumbled back into the village, she was 19 years of age. Her hair was darker and longer than it had been before. She was taller, much taller. But the defining feature, the one that everyone noticed, was her eyes. Where they had once been green, they were now red. Blood Red. 

As the years went on, when everyone else in the village grew old and dies, Luna stayed the same. She looked he same as she did the day she came back into the village that day. Not a gray hair in place. Not a wrinkle in sight. 19, forever 19. 

Luna had died you see, that night in the woods. 

The moment she stepped into that bright light, she was reborn. But in order to be reborn, first she had to die. She had to let go of what she was to become everything that she could be. She had to change. She had to transform. It hurt at first, but after the pain, it was bliss. She was older and stronger. But with this rebirth came something else. 

A hunger. A hunger that was unlike anything she had ever felt before. An insatiable hunger. An insatiable hunger for blood. 

Luna was no longer human. She was a vampire. That is what the woods had to offer. Eternal life. A life free from death and pain and suffering. It’s the life that her family could have had if only they had accepted what the woods had to offer. But  just as that voice told her all those years ago, they weren’t strong enough. But Luna was. 

She still is.

I should know. 

She sired me. 

[absolutelyfizzing]

Sifu Hotman

zuko x water tribe sibling!reader

request - I want to request a Zuko x fem reader being Sokka and Katara's sister. She can be the older sister or sokka's twin sister. Also when they start dating Sokka and Katara can like threaten him by saying don't hurt my sister or else.

A/N - This is taking place after the war, I'm vaguely uncomfy writing for underage people (or like younger than 17) so I just went ahead and aged them up. I'm sorry if that's not what you were wanting! I'm also sort of ignoring the plot of the comics and stuff and we are ignoring Mai's existence. I don't feel like this was my best writing by any means but i tried and i thought it was a cute idea. There will probably be more zuko x reader coming soon

word count - 2000

MASTERLIST

You took a deep breath in, the warm air refreshing after having just spent the last month in the southern water tribe with your family besides Katara who was off saving lives with Aang. Your twin brother stood beside you, his hair grown out and tied into a ponytail. Your sister would be here in the fire nation in a week with Aang. It had been three years since the war, you had just been kids at the time. You and Sokka were 15 during the last battle and you had felt so old then. Now, looking back, you had been immature and childish but you had grown up. After the war ended you remained in the fire nation for a few months. You had wanted to get a little bit of quiet before you started going on more adventures with your brother.

You had been very close with Zuko while he was traveling with you and the gang. You didn't know why but you trusted him, maybe it was because you trusted Toph's judgement but either way you had accepted him quicker than the others. You remembered how cold the rest of the group had been to him and it almost was funny to you now considering that Katara had just told you a story in a recent letter about Toph, Aang, and Zuko getting into a bickering match about fire flakes that ended in Toph trapping both of the boys into a earth tent. It was also hard to comprehend that Zuko was the new Firelord and he ruled over a whole nation.

It had been 2 years since you saw Zuko in person. It wasn't on purpose but you kept getting pulled in different directions, none of them leading you into the fire nation. You were excited but also scared to see him, butterflies filling your stomach at the thought of seeing him. You'd had a bit of a crush on the new Firelord when you last saw him but you refused to tell either of your siblings, knowing that they would threaten him to high heaven before he even knew about it.

Your brother walking beside you calmed you a bit, his presence being comforting to you. He was much taller than you now and he was more confident than the kid he had been during the war. You knew that the same was true for Aang, though he never grew up in personality. As you approached the gates of the palace you wondered if Zuko had changed.

You realized that he had as the gates opened and he was stood on the steps up to the palace waiting for both of you. His hair was long and it was pulled into a messy bun. His scar was no longer shrouded in his bangs and he seemed more confident in his stance. His robes were long and elegant and you wondered if he wore them by choice of if they were required because of his position. Your brother jogged slightly to get to Zuko faster, having grown to hold a strong bond with the man. You walked calmly but there was a smile on your face as your brother and Zuko embraced. Once the released each other Zuko turned to you. You noticed him gulp a bit and a blush threatened to cover your cheeks. Your grin became wider the closer you got to him and soon you were wrapped in his embrace.

You noticed that his frame was larger. You leaned your head back from the hug to look at his face and he looked well. Like he was happy and maybe even getting enough sleep.

"Hey there, Sifu Hotman." You smiled and Zuko rolled his eyes as he released you from the hug.

"I see we haven't matured in 2 years?" He grunts but you can see the smile trying to creep onto his face. "Toph still calls me that too." He grumbled lowly and you started laughing.

"Where is the little demon?"

"She's away dealing with some prisoners for me. She should be back in a week or so." Zuko smiled. "She's taken up a pretty important role here. She's like my personal lie detector. She likes to sit in on council meetings and scare everyone."

"I think that's actually her dream job." You smiled and Zuko hummed in agreement. There was a bit of a silence as you and Zuko just gazed at each other. He seemed so sure now. You had missed him dearly.

"Okay! Let's get this show on the road, people!" Sokka yelled and you internally groaned that he had to ruin the moment. Before you all turned toward the palace, Zuko sent you a wink and you felt a blush cover your face. As you headed up the steps of the palace you felt a comforting hand on your lower back as the Fire Lord gently followed behind you, Sokka running ahead of you, likely to find the food in the kitchens that he was accostomed to spending all of his time in.

"Can I speak to you in private when we get a moment?" Zuko asks and again your heart rate picks up. You turn your head to look at him.

"Of course" You smiled and he smiles back at you, making your head spin a bit. You spent the next few hours meeting new advisors, getting a tour through new parts of the palace, and catching up with Zuko who seemed to be acting more clingy than you had ever remembered him to be.

"Y/N, would you mind coming with me?" Zuko asked and you turned to face him with a smile.

"Of course!" You chirped as he led you to a secluded hallway away from your brother who was discussing war strategy with an advisor of Zuko's.

When you reached a place where you were out of earshot of others Zuko gently took your hands.

"I have something to confess." He stated and you felt fire on your cheeks, you nodded for him to continue, "I'm in love with you. I have been for years and I've never acted on it because there was always something going on and I was so unsure but now-" he gazed into your eyes with sincerity, "I couldn't be more sure. I want to be with you. If you'd have me, that is." Instead of answering you jumped forward, pressing your lips onto Zuko's in a searing kiss. He groaned and pushed back, trapping you against a wall. He pulled away to press his forehead into yours and you closed your eyes for a moment before opening them again and gazing at the man in front of you.

"Katara is gonna kill you." You mumbled and Zuko smiled.

"You aren't worried about Sokka?"

"I just know that Sokka can't win in a fight against you. Katara on the other hand..." you trailed off and Zuko looked offended.

"That's pretty rude to say to the man who just confessed his love for you."

"I'm just being honest. Toph might have some words too."

Zuko shuddered at the thought of what they could do to him. Sokka would be upset but he could probably handle it. Aang would be happy for both of them he was sure, always the peacemaker and moderator. Aang would probably be the only reason that Katara wouldn't attack Zuko immediately.

Over the next week you snuck around with Zuko, taking alone time any chance that you got. Sokka rarely let you get any peace as he stayed with you nearly constantly. He was always a little on the defence with you and he would likely settle in and ease up over the coming weeks as he got used to the new environment. You were never a huge fighter, though you could hold your own. You also couldn't bend. You were the one of the group who took care of everyone, you were the smartest in strategy by far, and you were the only one who could reason with Toph. Because of this, Sokka had gotten used to just being near you in case anything happened, though it was rare that anything did. You appreciated it normally but now you wanted time alone so that you could spend it with Zuko as you got used to being in a relationship that was more than platonic. But today was the day that the rest of the gang was arriving, even Suki would be joining you so you hoped that would take some of the clingy-ness of Sokka away. You all stood at the front of the palace, much like Zuko had stood for you a week earlier, and watched as Appa approached in the distance. He flew gently in front of you and as soon as he landed in front of you he licked you with his giant tongue and you were covered in slobber. Despite this you couldn't be happier to see the giant animal and you embraced him. You were suddenly pulled away and brought into the arms of your little sister.

"I missed you, Y/N." She mumbled into your neck and you smiled into hers, it had been so long since you had seen her and you felt tears come to your eyes at the relief of having her near.

You spent the next hours catching up with Katara and Aang, who had grown to be taller than you since you last saw him. Toph and Suki arrived that night and you were all glad to be together again at last, old memories coming back and filling you all with joy. You and Zuko looked at each other and you took a deep breath. You had discussed that you would be revealing your relationship to the rest of the group when you were all together but you were nervous for their reactions.

"So... I have something I would like to tell you guys." You stated and all of the conversation died down, all eyes suddenly on you. "Me and Zuko are together." You rushed out and you only got blank stares for a moment before there was groaning from Toph and Sokka.

"You couldn't have waited another year? I didn't think you would have figured it out by now." Toph grumbled and pulled some coins out of her pocket, Sokka doing the same. Suki and Katara held out their hands and money got dropped into them, both with smug looks on their faces. Zuko looked over at you and had the same look of shock that you likely did.

"What?" You mumbled.

"We all knew you were going to get together of course, you've been pining after each other for years, but me and Suki said you would be getting together this month and Toph said in a year. Sokka actually said in 3 months so he was closer than Toph was." Katara stated simply and you still just stared at her, mouth agape. "We also talked about the fact that if he hurts you," Her gaze shifted to a nervous looking Zuko, "we would all be committing some crimes."

"I feel like I should clarify that those crimes include maiming and murder." Sokka glared at Zuko and he gulped.

"But I'm so happy for you two!" Katara exclaimed, her attitude shifting completely. You and Zuko stared at each other in shock and then you smiled at him. You were so happy to finally be together and to have your friends around you.

[barnesafterglow]

all you need (3)

summary: just after finishing college and your first novel, you meet bucky barnes - a friend of a friend, a publisher, and hopefully something more

pairing: publisher!bucky x author!reader

word count: 4.1k

chapter warnings: explicit language, consumption of alcohol, wandanat is horny (derogatory), this is a peggy carter hate account, bucky doesn't know how to handle feelings, the rest of the gang makes an appearance, mild sexual content (just a vague mention of fucking), i think that's it

a/n: here it is, chapter 3! i think (or hope) this does mr barnes justice for y'all. forever grateful to @pellucid-constellations for always helping me and giving me ideas. i couldn't do it without you. enjoy!! xoxo

join my taglist!

The rest of the week had you feeling like you were going crazy, like you couldn’t go anywhere without catching a glimpse of him - or at least what you thought was him; you always hurried off before you could be sure. Even at the grocery store on Thursday, you swore you saw him across the aisles - and you swore the large blonde man he was with pointed in your direction - but you left your basket and all but sprinted home.

Wanda and Nat tried to assure you it was okay, and that it probably wasn’t him, and even if it was who the fuck cares, right?

I do, Natasha. I do.

Of course she just waved you off - she had to remain flippant lest you catch wind of any doubts and spiral even further. At least that was her philosophy.

You swore you were fine, really, but everyday you talked yourself out of texting Beth to see if she knew how much longer he would be in town, just in case.

But you were a strong, independent woman, so you eventually went about your everyday life like it was nobody’s business, and it was working really well until you saw him through the large picture window of your cafe. Well, the cafe you met Bucky at.

You knew it was him, he was pretty much wearing the same outfit as the last time you had seen him over a week before - dark wash jeans, boots, and a well worn brown jacket over top of a white t-shirt. He looked gorgeous.

Almost as gorgeous as the blonde sitting across from him.

God, of course. A man like that couldn’t be single.

So that’s why it had been a mistake; he clearly had someone else. But that didn’t explain why he had continued to text you periodically throughout the week, asking for a chance to just explain himself.

You were racking your brain for any possible explanation - maybe she was a cousin? - until she reached across the table and, oh, cousins shouldn’t touch like that.

She was reaching across the length of the table, her fingers gently caressing the leather clad arm, with her chest so pushed out it was nearly blinding. (Your first thought, after the initial shock, was that Nat would have very much enjoyed the sight.)

Not wanting to be caught staring, you wrapped your arms around yourself and hustled down the street, past the bookstore and the gym and everywhere else on your list of errands, and took the longest way possible home in hopes that the biting air and ache in your chest would provide a distraction. It didn’t, of course, because you were all consumed by the thoughts of a man who had kissed you once, then immediately rejected you.

Who were you turning into? This was not you. You didn’t do boyfriends or girlfriends or romance. You focused on school and your book and your friends - that was all you had time for. Then again, now you had no school and no book, so there was time.

Maybe you just needed a better distraction, a physical distraction, to prove that your kiss with Bucky was only so electrifying because of your lack of recent activity. With a brilliant plan brewing in your mind, you walked the last couple of blocks home feeling lighter than before.

By the time you got inside, stripped your layers, and found your best friends in the living room, your light feeling had turned into full blown mania and the shit eating grin on your face made even Nat a bit nervous.

“Care to explain the creepy face?” Wanda said lightly, while her girlfriend just laughed beside her. They both knew you well enough to know that whatever you were thinking was either going to be brilliant or a train wreck and they were down either way.

“Hello, my beautiful roommates, I hope you’re doing well on this fine Friday afternoon. I also hope you don’t have plans tonight, because we are going out.” You didn’t ask them, didn’t leave room for question. You needed this.

Not that they would say no, anyways.

Within 15 minutes the three of you stood in front of your bedroom mirror, surrounded by piles of clothes, already drinking. Even though it was barely 7pm, they were starting their pregaming early, and had already invited Sam to come out with you all as well.

It had been at least a couple years since the last time you had all gone out together, so you supposed that was the reason they were going full force, but you were worried about what stupid shit you might say or do if you got that drunk.

Then you remembered Bucky, and it got hard for you to care.

So after about 3 hours of fruity drinks and makeup and a lot of hype from your friends, you were clad in the shortest dress you owned, heels that made you legs look killer, and enough alcohol to stop any kind of inhibitions you may have - and the girls were loving it.

The confidence with which you held yourself on the walk to the bar was enough to cover up the slight wobble in your step, but you told yourself you would grab a glass of water as soon as you got inside.

Once in the bar, you gave your jacket to the coat check and scanned the room for Sam, finally laying eyes on him towards the center of the room. You made your way over, and he pulled you into a hug as soon as he caught sight of you.

“Well, hey, baby girl. I’m glad you decided to come out again. How have you been?” He asked you in his usual flirty but friendly way, enough to make a girl blush if you read into it too much. While you were telling him about the mess that your life had been the last week or so, he pulled you over to the bar to order another drink.

You were about to inform him of your decision to drink a glass of water when you spotted the last person you wanted to see over his shoulder.

James Buchanan Barnes. With the same blonde woman from the cafe draped across his lap. If you weren’t so drunk, you might have seen that he didn’t look the least bit comfortable. But you were so drunk, so you ordered a round of shots for you and Sam and the girls, hoping he hadn’t seen you.

Of course, luck was never on your side.

Once you saw him heading your way, you threw back your shot then grabbed Sam’s, ignoring his noise of protest, and threw that back as well. You were able to compose yourself and put on your friendliest smile by the time he approached you.

You could see the million and one words he wanted to say written across his face, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it, wouldn’t have the energy to deal with it, and you didn’t want to either. So instead of letting him say whatever was on the tip of his tongue, you flung your arms around your friends - one high around Sam’s shoulder and the other around Wanda’s - and introduced them to Bucky, your professor’s friend. Although you were hoping that avoiding any personal connection to him would make him just cut his losses and move on, you realized your plan hadn’t worked when he nodded his head towards his own friends, obviously wanting you to come meet him.

You looked around for an out from your companions, but Sam had disappeared and you saw Nat pulling Wanda into the single bathroom on the other end of the bar. Great.

With no other choice, you followed Bucky back over to his table, settling down into his chair and introducing everyone.

There was Steve, the blond you had seen at the grocery store, Maria, a beautiful brunette with a kind smile, and Sharon, the woman you had seen all over Bucky twice now. She was giving you a particularly nasty look, although you couldn't exactly blame her. Your mind was reeling trying to figure out why Bucky would introduce you to his girlfriend or hookup or whatever she was when he had just kissed you not that long ago. What game was this man playing?

You didn’t know, but you weren’t about to lose, so instead of taking the empty seat next to him as he probably expected you to, you took a couple steps around the table and sat yourself next to Steve, making sure your bare arm brushed against him as you did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky tense up, but Sharon had her hands gripping his biceps again within a second, so he forced himself to look away.

You, on the other hand, took your liquid courage and turned on the heavy flirtation, aiming it all at Steve.

“So,” you leaned toward Steve, placing your hand on his forearms, “do you live back in Brooklyn too?”

His cheeks gained a bit of color but he placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing it across your skin, before he answered.

“I do, me and Buck own the publishing house. But I grew up here. That’s actually why we’re all here in the first place. I moved to Brooklyn with my ma in high school, but my dad and family are all here. He asked me to come in for a weekend and the four of us decided to make a trip of it - we don’t get much of a break around work.”

He kept talking about the four of them - how he met Bucky his first day of school and they became instant friends, and then they met Sharon and Maria, also best friends, in college and had been inseparable ever since.

He talked so intently, your focus was entirely on him, even if you could still feel Bucky’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. You laughed a little loudly at his jokes, and the two of you had scooted so much that your legs were intertwined with his under the table, sides pressed flushly together, and leaning into the other's touch. One hand still rubbed lazy patterns along your hand and arm, but the other hand made its way over the back of your chair, occasionally playing with your hair or dancing along the bare skin of your shoulders.

When you shifted to take a sip of your drink, you noticed Bucky and Sharon in a similar position, though he didn’t look nearly as comfortable. Not wanting to think too much into it, you faced your body toward Steve and leaned to whisper in his ear.

“I’m really glad you were here tonight, it’s been amazing getting to talk to you.” Your body positions and the low, sultry tone of your voice probably made it seem, to the others, that you were saying much worse. It didn’t help that your slight exhale against his earlobe made him shudder.

Both of your heads snapped to look across the table at the sound of an indiscernible groan, and your eyes wandered down to Bucky’s white knuckles clutching his beer bottle.

“You okay there, Buck? Sounds like that bottle might burst if you grip it any tighter,” Steve tried to joke, but the tension in the air had become unbearably thick.

Trying your best to detach yourself from the conversation, you excused yourself to the bathroom. You had just stepped into the single room, not even able to lock the door, when it was pushed open into you. At first you thought it was some drunk creep, so you turned ready to throw a punch if needed, only to be met face to face with Bucky.

If you were smart, or sober, you would have pushed him out of the door without a word. Instead, you let him close and lock the door, then crowd you so you were caged between him and the counter.

“What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?” you hissed, still not in the mood for whatever bullshit excuse he was going to give you about the kiss.

“Me? What do you think you’re doing, putting your hands all over my best friend? What sort of game are you playing?” You scoffed at that, as if he could possibly get mad when that blonde was doing much worse.

“Remind me why you care, you should be focusing on your girlfriend out there instead of following people into bathrooms.”

“My girl- wait. Y/N are you jealous?” The unbearable grin on his face had you moving your hand forward to slap him - something you would never do sober - but he caught it and held it against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of Sharon. Is that the whole reason you’re pulling this whole act with Steve?”

You started to protest, say you didn’t know what he was talking about, that he was a goddamn idiot to think any of that was true, but nothing came out, and so he steam rolled ahead.

“Is that what the girls are doing these days - letting a guy know she wants him to fuck her brains out and then turn around and try it with his best friend? You could at least be a little bit more subtle, sweetheart.”

By this point you were fuming, who the fuck did he think he was? It didn’t help that there was that grain of truth behind his words, but you couldn’t even focus on that right now, too busy repeating another string of words.

Letting a guy know she wants him to fuck her brains out.

This was how he was going to bring up the voicemail? Right now in a bar bathroom when the two of you were both clearly beyond the line of logical thinking. Your brain was having a hard time keeping up with your mouth, and words were flying out before you could stop them.

“At least I don’t lead girls on like I’m some college frat boy.” Your hand flew over your mouth, but it was too late, you had laid all your cards on the table, and you might as well have gambled your future away in the process. How could you be so stupid?

Not wanting to catch even a glimpse of his response, you shoved past the arm that still had you trapped against the counter, able to get through solely because he was caught off guard, and practically launched yourself out of the bathroom.

Since you were in such a rush, and had a fair amount of tears obstructing your vision, you didn’t notice the couple coming out of the bathroom beside you, and ran straight into them.

You had an apology on the tip of your tongue when you realized it was Wanda and Nat, and instead you just shouldered your way past them, an unwarranted anger building at the fact that they had left you to fend for yourself. You knew it wasn’t really their fault, but you were drunk and your emotions were high and you really just wanted to be at home in bed before tear tracked cheeks turned to wracking sobs.

You were out the door and stumbling toward home before you even realized you didn’t have your coat and purse. Standing in the middle of the empty sidewalk for a moment, you were debating whether or not it was worth it to turn around and risk seeing Bucky again, when Nat rounded the corner with your things in her hand.

Once again, she knew exactly what to do, and wrapped both your jacket and her arms around you without saying a word, while you cried the whole way home.

--

Bucky watched your body disappear into the throng of people, and shifted his attention to the two girls in front of him - Natasha and Wanda, he recalled - as they talked through wordless looks.

The redhead disappeared after you, but not before she threw a sharp nod of her head in his direction. The taller of the two stepped towards him, a fiercely sympathetic look in her eyes. He didn’t know if it was for him or you or both, but he decided to take a chance and ask her for some help. It seemed she could read his mind, however, and was speaking before he got the chance.

“I see the way you’ve been looking at her, and I don’t think you’re quite the asshole you’ve made yourself out to be, but that doesn’t mean you get a free pass. Come by our place tomorrow and we’ll make sure she talks to you, but if you fuck this up I’ll let Nat after you, and she’s got a wicked bite.”

She slipped out of his line of sight before he had really comprehended what she’d said, and he stood there stunned for a few moments until he felt a looming presence beside him.

Turning his head, he saw Steve, who looked like already knew what a dumbass he was, so Bucky patted him on the back and headed back toward their table, mind whirling with all the things he needed to say to you.

--

The next morning brought you a massive hangover and a shot of life-ending embarrassment. It almost would have been better to not remember anything at all, but unfortunately you recalled every moment of the night before with excruciating clarity.

You took a long time to get out of bed, finally dragging yourself to shower after almost an hour of staring at this ceiling wishing the last two weeks of your life had been some nightmare instead of reality.

Not thinking anything of it, you head to the kitchen for a cup of tea after your shower, clad in only a towel and your still damp hair. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for your roommates to already have a mug waiting for you, or for Bucky to be sitting casually across from them at the kitchen table.

“Oh, what the fuck,” you snapped, not at all in the headspace to deal with this. As if reliving last night over and over in your head wasn’t enough, the source of all your suffering was in your home smelling like your lavender and mint tea bags. What the fuck.

Realizing you were now in the room, Nat and Wanda scrambled to their feet and shuffled past you to their room. But not before Nastsha stopped to whisper some words of encouragement in your ear.

“Just hear him out, Ангел, I think he deserves that.” She pressed a kiss to your cheek before disappearing behind the closed door.

Great, even your practically man-hating roommate was lapping up this guy’s charm. Ridiculous.

You stood there and stared at it angrily for a moment, as if you could will Bucky away before you had to endure this, but when you turned he was still sat uncomfortably in the old wooden chair, same sheepish smile he seemed to wear so often.

It really hit you like a ton of bricks, just staring at each other from across the kitchen, how beautiful he was. And how mad it made you, because it just wasn’t fair that this incredible man had been thrust into your life just to make a wreck of it.

Maybe it’s time to let go. Something your sister used to say often. You were known for holding a grudge, even when you didn’t actually intend to, and she was always the one to talk you down and walk you through forgiveness.

Those words had never rang more true than that moment. It was time to move on, whatever anger and shame was lingering in Bucky’s presence could be released, hopefully on both ends, because your future was more important than the petty feelings you wanted to hold on to.

So, after rushing back to your room to put clothes on, you came back and sat across from him, smiling gratefully when he slid the cup of tea towards you, and waited for him to say whatever he needed.

“I know I’m an idiot,” he had to stop after you made a snorting noise into your mug. What a way to start, you thought, but you just waved your hand for him to continue.

“I’m sorry. That’s the biggest thing I can say. I just - no, you don’t need an excuse, you need an explanation. I think you’re amazing - in so many ways. Your writing is incredible, and so is your mind, and I can say without a doubt that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He looked up for a moment, to see you pressing your hand to your cheek, trying to convince yourself that the heat radiating from your face was from the tea and not his overwhelming compliments.

You wanted to shrug him off, tell him none of that was true, but you could see how much more he had to say, so you let him continue.

“Despite all that, I was scared. It’s kind of a long story, but Steve was seeing this girl a few years back, right as we started taking off as a business. He was head over heels, swore he was gonna marry her; I thought so too, for a bit, but Peggy always gave me a weird feeling. I wish now that I had told Steve that, because as soon as her book was published, she broke his heart. He wasn’t the same for a while after that.”

Your heart ached for Steve, and for Bucky as well, because you could see all over his face how much his friend mattered to him. It also helped to loosen that grip the anger had on your heart. But not completely.

“He didn’t seem to mind me flirting with him last night. Why’s that?” That was really what you couldn’t put the pieces together for. This made him laugh, though you couldn’t figure out why until he finally controlled himself enough to explain.

“Oh yeah, that. Dumbass was so drunk and distracted by a pretty girl that he didn’t really put two and two together, even after seeing you at the grocery store earlier this week. Even though he’s okay now, he hasn’t been with anyone since Peggy, so his brain kinda turned off.”

This made you laugh too, and it was like the majority of the tension between you had dissipated. That felt really good.

You still didn’t know where you stood with him, but that was alright for now.

--

The two of you stayed in the kitchen talking for a majority of the morning, and he finally brought up your book - something that had somehow been pushed to the back of your mind in the midst of everything else happening.

“So, I finished your book,” he paused for a moment when he heard your breath hitch, but continued on. “I love it, and I hope you know I’m not just saying that because of anything that’s happened between us. Steve loved it and so did Bruce, one of our editors, when I sent it to him back in Brooklyn.”

“What are you saying?” It seemed too good to be true.

“I’m saying I want to publish your book.”

“You want to - wow. I’m shocked. Wow.”

But what the fuck happens now?

You must have spoken out loud, because he threw his head back in a laugh.

“Come to Brooklyn with me. This weekend, that’s when I was planning to leave anyway. You can come meet everyone else at the firm, meet Bruce, who will do your editing, and get to know Maria a bit more, sign contracts and all that other fun paperwork. Then we’ll be in business. What do you say?”

You couldn’t say anything, the grin taking up your face was simply too big. Instead, you did what any normal, professional author would do. You launched yourself at Bucky, wrapped yourself around him and let him squeeze you tight right there in the middle of your apartment.

Neither of you could see it, but Natasha and Wanda stood watching your embrace, silently closing the door back while sharing knowing smiles.

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[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Traumatized | Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You get kidnapped and when Bucky finds you, you’re traumatized from being abused the entire time. 

A/N: Hope you like it! xx I started this a while back and finally finished it today. 

Usually I’m all for the bad ass reader, but I’m gonna change it up to a completely terrified/innocent reader. She’s technically not an avenger but is a part of the team working with Bruce and Tony on some high tech inventions.

!! Warning: mention of blood, cuts, torture, ptsd 

Also, I am not into technology at all. So, if there’s some misinformation in there, please just move along and continue reading :)

! Warning: talk of abuse/torture, blood, traumatized reader 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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!! Warning: mention of blood, cuts, torture, ptsd

“Hey has anyone spoke to y/n today?” Bucky enters the shared common space of the Avenger’s tower where Nat, Steve, Wanda, & Vision were, “She said she was going out to grab a coffee and a quick walk around the park, but she’s not back yet and I haven’t heard from her.” 

“She’s probably still at the park.” Wanda answers, moving a chess piece. Her and Vision were currently enticed in a game of chess. 

“You know how she is. She probably found some ducks to feed.” Steve chuckles. 

“yeah, maybe.” Bucky mutters, not completely convinced. You’d left earlier this morning and it was now entering the early afternoon hours. So, you should have been back by now. 

“Where’s Tony and Bruce?” Nat asks, shifting the subject. 

“Working on some new high tech.” Steve shrugs, “I didn’t understand a word after that.” 

“Wasn’t y/n supposed to be working on that with them?” Bucky takes the seat next to Steve at the table. 

Nat furrows her eyebrows, “Yeah.. Maybe she’s down there with them? She probably went straight to work with them after she got back from her walk.” 

Bucky nods, Nat’s probably right, “Yeah she probably did. She was all excited last night talking about the new tech her, Tony and Bruce had been working on. She said it’s almost done.” He finally lets the worry of not talking to you go. You were most likely in the zone with Tony and Bruce and usually the outside world disappeared. 

~ 

incoming video chat, Mr. Stark do you accept? F.R.I.D.A.Y asks. 

“I accept.” Tony continues his work with Bruce, not thinking much of it. Probably something to do with Stark Industries, “Yeah try that-” 

“Ah Mr. Stark, it’s been a while.” 

When he turns his attention to large computer screen, he’s met with a man who looks vaguely familiar but can’t picture where he’s seen him. “And who are you?” 

“It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember me.” The man sighs and steps back from the camera, showing the full view of the room. You were practically hanging from the ceiling, your hands pulled tightly together above your head and your feet barely touching the concrete floor below you. There were 5 other men standing near you, large guns in their hands and what looked to be masks over their face. 

Tony drops the tool in his hand, “What the hell is this?” 

“Oh now you want to pay attention!” The man comes to your side and a whimper escapes your lips as he holds the gun to your cheek, dragging it along your face and using it to push your hair out of the way, “I knew she would catch your attention.” 

Tony and Bruce exchange a look, “You realize you’ve just kidnapped someone very close to the Avenger’s and that means it isn’t going to end well for you,” He rounds the table to get a closer look at the screen, “So why would you be so stupid to kidnap her?” 

“Because she got what I didn’t.” He yanks your neck back by your hair, causing you to yelp.

“Who? Bucky? I don’t think he is into men.” He sarcastically replies. Deep down he’s actually very worried for your safety but choosing to be sarcastic in a time of danger is a way he copes. 

“Not Bucky.” The man seethes, “She got that position with you at the Avenger’s Tower. You three are working on something very high tech and I want it. I deserve it! And I’m going to get it.” 

“Then you probably should have tried to walk into the Avenger’s tower to take it. Not kidnapped one of our assistants!” 

“Oh I plan to get it out of her.” He taps your head with the gun, “She knows everything, everything about the tech you’re working on and she’s going to tell me. Even if I have to torture it out of her.” He smirks. 

You try to speak to beg tony, to beg someone to save you from this, “Tony please-” You were terrified. You weren’t trained to take torture and you knew this wasn’t going to end well for anyone, especially you. You were only an assistant to Bruce and Tony and Bucky’s girl, but you knew things about the avenger’s and about all the tech Bruce and Tony were working on. You could be the person to bring down the Avenger’s and the man knew that. He knew exactly which person would get him what he wanted. 

He ended the video chat. F.R.I.D.A.Y informs.

"Where’s the location of the video coming from?” Tony asks F.R.I.D.A.Y and Bruce who had been trying to pinpoint the location as well. 

There’s no clear location. 

“It’s bouncing off different wifi connections, there is no one location.” Bruce looks to Tony, “We’re blind. We have no idea where they have her.” 

~ 

Tony calls the team in for a meeting, calmly. He doesn’t want to panic them, especially Bucky because his judgment will be clouded by his love and attachment to you. He probably would destroy the city trying to find you. 

“What’s this about Tony?” Steve asks as the avengers fall into the room and settle in their seats. 

Tony clears his throat, “We have a problem.” 

As Bucky looked around the room there was one person missing, you. “Where’s y/n? I thought she was working with you two.” 

“That’s what I’ve called this meeting about.” Tony turns on the screen and there is a screenshot from the video chat of you and the men. 

“Oh my god.” Wanda gasps. 

“Is that-” Nat asks. 

Bucky swallows the lump forming in his throat, “Y/n.” 

“We received a video chat from this man here earlier. It’s unclear what the hell he even wants,” Bruce begins, “First it was anger for y/n getting the position he didn’t, then it was wanting the high tech we were working on. Y/n is close to the Avenger’s and she knows a lot of things; important information that could be used to bring all of us down. She also knows all information on that new high tech device we were working on. He’s planning to use her to get what he wants.” 

“She’s not.. She’s only a civilian.” Wanda says, “She’s not trained to hide information. To endure that kind of torture.” 

“Which is why we have to find her asap.” Tony says, glancing at Bucky. 

Bucky clinched his hands in anger. He knew how torture worked and to think of you in that position... “You mean you two don’t know where he has her?” 

“We have no idea.” Tony nods, “The man was good. He’s using different wifi signals which means there’s no pinpointing one location.” 

“We’re looking for her blind.” Bruce says.

Another video request, Mr. Stark. 

“Accept it, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony turns to the screen to see the same man, but this time you’re in worse shape. Your clothes are dirty and torn; your shirt wasn’t covering anything; There was blood dripping down your cheek. 

“Ah all the avenger’s are here this time! What a treat.” The man smiles, “Including Bucky. Aww.. if you should know your little girlfriend here has been begging for you.” 

Bucky stands quickly, the chair screeching along the floor, “I’ll kill you. Don’t you fucking touch her!” He gets closer to the screen. 

“Oh we already have.” he chuckles, glancing at you, “You want to see your little boyfriend? He seems very worried.” Pulling the video closer, you can see the avenger’s staring back. 

“Bucky.” You whimper, “Please..” 

“Shh.. doll it’s okay. We’re going to get you out of there, okay? Just stay strong for me.” His heart breaks to see you like this and there’s absolutely nothing he can do, “I love you, y/n.” 

The video pans back to the man, “how adorable. Not!” He chuckles, “I just wanted to show you what she looks like one more time. Once we’re done with her, she won’t look the same.” He smooths out your hair, “This girl here is very tough but she’s given us some valuable information.” He sighs, “But it’s just not enough yet,” His hand grips your hair and yanks your head back earning a yelp of pain from you. And with that he ended the call once more. 

~ 

It took Steve, Nat, Sam, and Tony to hold Bucky back from leaving the room. He didn’t know where he would be heading, but that didn’t matter. He was going to tear the city apart to find them, to find you. 

“Let me go!” Bucky thrashes against Steve’s tight grip. 

“Buck, we have to be smart about this!” Steve reasons, “We don’t know where she is!” 

A screenshot from the video is put on the screen, “This is the only thing I could capture.” It’s blurry and you can only see half of the symbol but all the Avenger’s recognize it, especially Bucky. 

Bucky calms as he stares at half of the symbol, “That’s.. That’s an old HYDRA base.” It was one step closer to finding you. 

“Do we know which one?” Wanda asks. She was on standby near Bucky in case they couldn’t contain him. 

“Shield took care of all the bases.” Tony says, “Or at least they thought they did. However, it was hard to determine if the ones destroyed were the only ones.”

Bucky’s gears are shifting as he tries to remember his time at Hydra. He tries to think of anything that could have been said to give off some kind of clue. “It had never been used but there was talk about a base on an island north of Russia. It was a backup in case HYRDA was compromised.” 

“That has to be where they are keeping her.” Nat speaks up from beside Steve, “Where else would there be a HYDRA symbol on a wall? Unless someone painted it but..” 

“It’s worth checking out.” Sam says, “There are only a handful of islands north of russia that a HYRDA base could be built.” 

~ 

The last island the avengers check turns out to be the correct one. Using Stark tech, they find out there is 10 guys inside and then another body in a room that they assume is you. They find a place to land the quinjet without the men noticing. 

“We can’t go in there guns blazing.” Sam grabs Bucky’s arm as he’s about to storm out of the quinjet. 

“Sam’s right.” Nat says, “We have the element of surprise and we need to use that to our advantage so that y/n doesn’t end up getting killed in the crossfire.” 

Bucky knows they’re right, but you’re right there in that building. He sighs and nods, “What’s the plan?” 

The plan goes right and within minutes the men are taken out. Bucky was the one to kill the leader for what he’d done to you. Bucky takes off toward the room and when he enters, you’re curled in a ball on the bed.

“Y/n?” 

You look up at your eyes go wide, pushing yourself back against the wall to put as much distance between you and Bucky. You couldn’t even recognize your Bucky. “Please.. please no more.” You whimper, “I’ve told you everything!” 

“It’s me... it’s bucky.” He takes another step closer to you, but it results in a scream from you.

“Please! I can’t take anymore.. I can’t!” You sob with a shake of your head. Your whole body starts to shake with fright. You couldn’t take anymore torture, anymore pain. You were passed your breaking point and you’d already came clean about everything, but that didn’t stop the torture. 

It’s like you don’t even recognize him and his shoulders slump with defeat, “Y/n.. please..” He starts toward you once more and that’s when Nat grabs his shoulder, “she doesn’t recognize you.” She motions to Wanda who uses her power to practically put you to sleep in a calming state. 

It’s then that Bucky can see the damage they did to you. Blood, cuts and bruises all over your body. You’re filthy with dirt and your hair is a mess. You’re only in a ripped t shirt and undergarments. He’s gentle as he picks up your body. 

“She’s asleep.. she can’t feel anything.” Wanda tells Bucky after seeing his careful hands.

“She’s.. covered in these marks..” He holds you against his chest and Nat takes another look at you, “Electric shock. They electrocuted her.” 

He follows behind the rest of the avengers toward the quinjet. He kisses your head, “You’re safe now, doll... I’m here.” 

~ 

It had been almost a month and you hadn’t spoken a word. You wouldn’t speak to anyone, not even Bucky. The doctor’s informed the avengers you’d been traumatized and that it might take you a while to get comfortable again and that it was best to give you time. You’d gone through a lot and you needed time. 

But it was hurting Bucky not to be able to hold you, to comfort or kiss you during this horrible time. He wanted to be there for you, but the closest he could get is watching you through the window on the door. You would start start screaming when anyone from the Avenger’s team came in. Recently you let Nat inside without screaming, but you didn’t say a word to her. 

He could hear your screams from the nightmares and it pained him not be able to hold you in his arms. It was something you did with him when the nightmares would return in the night and you were the only thing that could calm him. He just wanted to be that for you. 

However, one night he couldn’t help himself. You just continued to scream and cry out like you were in pain and he decided that was it. He needed to see if you were okay. He needed to be there for you.

He ran into your room to find you thrashing around in your bed having a nightmare. He rounded the bed to your side, “hey hey, it’s okay.” He shook you awake and your wide eyes met his. “It’s okay...” He waited for the screams to start once you saw him, but they didn’t come. Maybe this was a good sign. He started to back up toward the door in case this turned bad with you. He didn’t want to push it with you. 

Your eyes filled with tears and you didn’t move. The two of you stared at each other for the longest before you spoke the first words in a month, “Don’t go.” 

Relief flooded Bucky’s body and he had to hold back tears, “I’m not going anywhere, doll.” 

You made yourself comfortable in bed once more, turning on your side. Bucky didn’t want to push his luck and decided the chair by your bed would be a good place for him. 

You made sure he wasn’t going anywhere and then let your eyes close. He stayed there in that uncomfortable chair the rest of the night while you slept. You didn’t have another nightmare that night. It was like your mind knew you were safe and you could finally let yourself go. You were safe and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you again and when you finally realized that, you let Bucky back in. 

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[jessepinwheel]

is it self indulgent to write a time travel story about my extremely specific au? yes. but also it's my story and I choose the degrees of separation from canon

Obi-Wan wakes in a warm bed in a warm apartment. This is unusual because he’s sure that when he went to sleep he was alone in an attic on war-torn Melida/Daan.

There is a man sitting next to the bed. He’s an adult, but not too old, probably barely into his twenties. There is a mask covering his mouth and nose but his sad gray eyes look vaguely familiar.

"Where am I?" Obi-Wan asks.

"You're in my apartment on Coruscant," the man says.

"Who are you?"

"Nobody. Just a local private investigator."

"What's your name?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Not important. Don’t worry about it."

And that's that.

---

Apparently, the detective had found Obi-Wan passed out in an undercity alley with no idea how he got there and brought him inside because he was worried about a kid being all alone in Coruscant. In that case, it’s probably for the best the detective doesn't know where Obi-Wan was just yesterday.

The more important thing, even more important than the fact that he somehow traveled across the galaxy overnight, is that he also seems to have traveled seventeen years into the future. Melida/Daan's war is over and has been for over a decade. Official sources never mention him, so Obi-Wan can only assume he either disappeared or died.

He feels...conflicted about that. He's glad they have peace now, but after fighting tooth and nail for months, to have it suddenly be over like this is terribly anticlimactic.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" the detective asks. "Any family? Friends? A home?"

Obi-Wan hesitates. If Melida/Daan’s war is over and he’s been missing for seventeen years, then they probably won’t recognize him, and they probably won’t want him back. And if he doesn’t go back to Melida/Daan, then there’s really only the Jedi Temple, but the Temple...he abandoned them, too. He gave Master Jinn his lightsaber and turned his back on the Jedi. They would probably accept him back, but Master Jinn wouldn’t, and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough to face that.

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

The detective lets out a long sigh. “Okay. Then I guess you can stay with me for a while.”

---

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to think of the detective. The detective is as kind and patient as Obi-Wan could ever hope for--he gets Obi-Wan clean new clothes, cooks good food with meat and vegetables and gives Obi-Wan second helpings, and doesn’t ask questions about where Obi-Wan came from or how he got where he is. He insists that Obi-Wan sleeps on the only bed while he takes the couch, and it’s...not bad. It’s warm and comfortable, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure how to deal with that. The two of them talk a little bit here in there, but not about anything useful. Just to fill the silence, the detective tells Obi-Wan a bit about his job as a private investigator, which seems to involve a lot of looking through tax records and invoices. It seems peaceful compared to what Obi-Wan was doing, but anything would be.

He can’t help but distrust the detective, though. For some reason, he can’t properly sense the detective with the Force, and it’s obvious the detective is hiding things, besides--Obi-Wan might only be thirteen, but he’s not stupid. There’s no other reason the detective would be so cagey. The detective refuses to tell Obi-Wan his name, he wears thick black gloves all the time even though they’re in his home, and the closest Obi-Wan gets to seeing the detective’s face is when the detective takes meals in the kitchen alone--the apartment is so small there’s nowhere to eat in actual privacy besides the fresher. He faces away when he pulls his mask off so Obi-Wan can only really make out a full beard.

There’s a grim air about the detective. He’s quiet and tired and he’s got the air of someone who doesn’t really spend a lot of time around other people. Obi-Wan gets the feeling that he’s...really unhappy.

“Why are you doing all this?” Obi-Wan asks over a late meal. The detective sits opposite him, though he doesn’t have any food for himself--he’ll take his meal later after Obi-Wan goes to sleep. “You could have given me to a foster care system or dropped me back on the street. You don’t have to do all this. You don’t even know me.”

“I knew someone a lot like you. He didn’t have anyone to help him, and he didn’t know how to ask.” The detective gets a faraway look in his eyes. “He was just a kid. I wish I could have done more for him.”

So that’s all it is. The detective used to have some kind of little brother and something terrible happened to him, so he’s trying to make up for it with Obi-Wan now. It’s kind of a relief, to know it’s for a selfish reason like that--that, at least, Obi-Wan can understand.

Still, Obi-Wan says, “I’m not him.”

The detective looks at him for a long moment, then shakes his head. “No, I guess not.”

---

Three days pass in a blur. It’s almost like a dream, one moment blending into the next. Obi-Wan eats well, sleeps well, and recovers, but nothing really happens. Obi-Wan doesn’t do much except rest and read about all the things that have happened in the last seventeen years. Outside of the resolution of Melida/Daan’s war, he finds out that Master Jinn is still alive and running missions. Not only that, but it seems he has a new Padawan now, and that’s...it stings, Obi-Wan won’t pretend it doesn’t. It crushes the last hope Obi-Wan had that he could still be a Padawan--it was a silly hope after he’d given it all up at Melida/Daan, but somewhere deep in his heart he’d had the childish idea that maybe he could go back and things would be okay. That maybe, Qui-Gon would come back for him.

Obi-Wan, officially no longer a Jedi, officially without a Master, sequesters himself in the fresher and cuts his braid off. It’s a sorry excuse of a braid--stubby and without any beads to indicate any kinds of achievements, but it was his. He stares at the severed strip of hair for a long time, feeling very unreal. Everything seems to hit him all at once--the displacement in time and space, the loss of his home and his dreams and everyone he’s ever known. He feels like he can’t breathe, and he doubles over in the shower stall, sobbing.

The detective knocks on the door. “Kid? Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t know if he says anything.

“I’m coming in,” the detective says.

The door slides open, and the detective comes in. He looks at Obi-Wan and at the braid clenched in his fist and lets out a long breath. “Oh, kid.”

He scoops Obi-Wan up out of the shower and sets him down on the bed. Obi-Wan clings to the detective, crying into his chest, and the detective hugs him tight, rubbing slow circles across his back.

“You’ll be okay,” the detective murmurs softly. “Things are hard now, but they won’t be forever. Just let it out. You’ll be okay.”

Obi-Wan lets it out. It takes a while.

He doesn’t really feel okay.

---

The detective takes Obi-Wan downtown, and he lives close enough to the Senate district that Obi-Wan can see the Jedi Temple in the distance when they reach surface level. Just seeing it so close yet so out of reach makes something in Obi-Wan’s chest feel like it’s collapsing.

He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything, but he can’t have it. That’s the choice he made, and he won’t go back on it now. He doesn’t have much, but he’s at least got enough dignity for that.

They walk around the city, and the detective treats Obi-Wan to some fried dumplings from a food stall. They’re not as good as the dumplings at the Temple, but they’re still pretty good, so Obi-Wan accepts them with thanks. The detective takes him to a couple of stores, too, so he can choose some clothes for himself and other small things he needs, and a few things he doesn’t.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Obi-Wan asks when the detective gives him a striped tooka plushie. “I’m not a kid. I’m too old for toys.”

“You don’t have to be a kid to have a toy,” the detective says. “You can do whatever you want with it, but if you really don’t want it I can take it back.”

Obi-Wan thinks about it, then shakes his head and squeezes the plush in his arms. He had a stuffed tooka like this when he was an Initiate--it’s not too bad to have some reminder of home. He tucks it under his arm when he sleeps that night and he doesn’t have any nightmares at all.

Neither Obi-Wan nor the detective bring up what Obi-Wan thinks of as The Question--What are they going to do with him? They both know this transitional period won’t last, and soon, they’ll have to make a decision.

There’s not a lot of places for a thirteen-year-old human to go. Obi-Wan can’t stay here with the detective indefinitely--it’s obvious the detective doesn’t have the space, time, or resources to take care of a youngling, and Obi-Wan can’t hide forever that he’s Force-sensitive or time traveled from the past. Maybe he’ll get a place on a spacer crew--sometimes mechanical teams will hire kids because of the small crawl spaces, and Obi-Wan is good with his hands. Or maybe he can get put into a foster care system or get adopted and stay with a family for a few years until he’s old enough to go places on his own.

He’s not really excited about any of those options.

Things come to a head one week in, when Obi-Wan wakes in the middle of the night and hears voices in the fresher.

“--don’t want to ask you out of the blue like this, but it’s kind of an emergency,” the detective says, muffled through the door. “I don’t need a lot, just enough to keep going. Enough for food and clothes and still cover the rent.”

Money. He’s talking about money--but with who?

“He’s a good kid. I’ve done my best with him but I’m really not the one who should be doing this.” A pause. "Bail, you don't understand. He's a Force-sensitive youngling, I can't just leave him here."

Obi-Wan goes cold all at once. The detective knows he's Force-sensitive. How? And more importantly, if he knows, then why didn't he bring Obi-Wan to the Jedi Temple? That's what any reasonable person would do--what any reasonable person should do, especially when they're a stone's throw away from the Temple to begin with, because why would there be a Force-sensitive kid in Coruscant if not because they're a lost Padawan?

"What, do you think I'm lying to you? Bail, believe me, if I was trying to scam you I would come up with a much better story. I'm just..." The detective sighs. After another pause, he says, "Okay, fine. I can bring him around tomorrow so you can see for yourself."

Obi-Wan recoils from the door. The detective is trying to sell him. That's why he didn't take Obi-Wan to the Temple and worked so hard to get Obi-Wan clean and clothed and fed, because healthy Force sensitives are more valuable in the slave markets.

The detective keeps talking on the commlink, oblivious to Obi-Wan's presence, but Obi-Wan isn't listening anymore. He has to protect himself, and that means getting away from here before the detective can hock him off to whoever this Bail person is.

Obi-Wan grabs his jacket and a handful of credits from the detective's coat pocket, then leaves. He just needs to get to the Jedi Temple--they won't like him but they'll protect him, and maybe they'll be able to send him somewhere safe. He'll take AgriCorps over slavery any day.

The Force is loud as he hits the streets. Coruscant has always been a psychic cesspool and it feels like being battered from the inside of his mind as he goes down the dark streets trying to find his way up to the surface. He feels the Force's urgency under his skin, like there's a monster on his tail with jaws ready to snap shut. He knows it won't be long until the detective finishes his comm and realizes Obi-Wan has flown the coop.

He's so preoccupied with getting away that he ends up running straight into a very tall Quarren.

"I'm sorry!" Obi-Wan says. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm really sorry!"

The Quarren looks down at him disapprovingly, or maybe their face just looks like that. "What's a kid doing out here this late at night all on their lonesome?"

Obi-Wan presses his lips shut. He knows a bad situation when he sees one and he has definitely reached a bad situation.

"A runaway, are you?" the Quarren asks, a definitely predatory edge to their voice. "Why don't I help you get someplace safe?"

"No, thank you," Obi-Wan says, because he's not stupid. "I have to be somewhere right now."

"It wasn't a request," the Quarren says, stepping closer.

Obi-Wan decides it's time to break and run, but a moment too late because someone grabs him from behind and jabs something in his neck.

Unconsciousness follows swiftly and not gently.

---

Obi-Wan wakes on a cold floor in a cold room. This is not unusual because he remembers exactly how he got here, despite the throbbing headache between his temples. His hands are cuffed and he appears to be in some kind of warehouse. He can still feel the Force, which is a good sign.

There is a man sitting on a nearby crate, smoking a stick of something that smells absolutely foul.

"Where am I?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Shut up. You're not here to ask questions," the man says.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who will be a lot happier if you stop making so much noise."

“What’s your name?” Obi-Wan asks.

The man walks over to Obi-Wan’s side and kicks him in the stomach.

So that’s that.

---

Apparently, Obi-Wan has been kidnapped with the intention of being ransomed, though good luck to his kidnappers finding anyone to ransom him to. If that falls through, plan B is to sell him to a slave market, which, while a very bad thing to happen, probably won’t happen for at least a couple of days, which gives Obi-Wan plenty of time to orchestrate an escape. Especially because these people, unlike the detective, don’t know he’s Force-sensitive and can pop his cuffs literally any time he chooses to. He just has to wait for the right moment, especially because the kidnappers keep him on constant watch, which makes it hard to use the Force without anyone noticing.

This isn’t the first time Obi-Wan’s been kidnapped, so he takes a deep breath and tries to figure out what to do next--nobody knows he’s here, and nobody’s looking for him, so if he wants to be rescued he’s going to have to do it himself. His kidnappers don’t treat him kindly, not that he expected to be--he’s barely given anything to eat, and he’s made to sleep on what appears to be a literal door mat, and nobody really talks to him except to make vague threats and occasionally hit him. On the bright side, they’re not actively torturing him, so it’s definitely not the worst captivity Obi-Wan has ever endured.

Obi-Wan bides his time, tracking the kidnappers through the building with the Force. There seems to be about eight of them in total, and his understanding is that they do this kidnap for ransom song and dance every so often for cash and haven’t been caught because they haven’t tried it with anyone important enough yet. Obi-Wan doesn’t find them too intimidating. He knows how to fight adults with his bare hands, and these are no different--he can’t take them all at once, but he could get them down one by one. As long as he plays his cards right, he should be able to escape.

He makes his move on the second day while one of his captors is escorting him to the fresher. He snaps his cuffs open and jams an elbow directly into the man’s stomach, and the man doubles over, gagging. Obi-Wan slams him in the ankle, sweeping him to the ground, then cuffs him, wrist to ankle behind his back so he won’t be going anywhere any time soon. The man shouts and swears at Obi-Wan, loud enough that someone definitely hears him, and Obi-Wan breaks for it, grabbing a length of old pipe to use as a weapon.

He takes down three more goons on his search for the exit, swinging the pipe into their knees with a sickening crack. One of the kidnappers cuffs him on the side of the head, hard enough to make him see stars, but Obi-Wan hits him in the jaw just as hard, and the man goes down shrieking in pain.

The fifth man is the Quarren who had gotten him into this mess, who snarls and twists the pipe from his grip. Obi-Wan dodges the kick at his side and calls the Force to his aid. It swells and ripples outwards, forcefully throwing the Quarren back into the wall.

“You little Jedi rat!” the Quarren roars at him. “I’m going to kill you!”

He pulls out a primed blaster. The Force screeches out a warning, but Obi-Wan is too close to dodge, and without a weapon to deflect it. He closes his eyes, bracing for the burn, and then--

The Quarren screams, then abruptly stops.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes. The Quarren is slumped against the wall, thoroughly unconscious...no, dead, Obi-Wan corrects. Or will be soon. There’s a blaster bolt straight through his chest--a perfect shot. Obi-Wan looks through the doorway where the shot must have come from, and...

The detective is there, a smoking blaster in his hand. His eyes widen when he sees Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan,” the detective says, running to meet him. “Obi-Wan, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Obi-Wan snatches the Quarren’s blaster and levels it at the detective. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, but he’ll do what he has to if it means he gets out of this alive. “Don’t come any closer,” he says. “Put the blaster down.”

The detective drops the blaster and holds his hands up.

“Why are you here?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I was looking for you,” the detective says. “You ran away in the middle of the night in the undercity--I was scared something had happened to you.”

“How did you find me?”

The detective’s brow furrows. “I’m a detective. Finding missing people is one of my main marketable skills.”

Okay, Obi-Wan kind of forgot that. That’s on him. “How do you know my name? I never told you.”

The detective looks at him a long moment, then sighs. “That’s...a long story. One that should probably wait until we get you out of here.”

“Why should I trust you?” Obi-Wan asks. “You killed that man. Why wouldn’t you do the same to me?”

A pained look flashes across the detective’s face. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says softly. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but please, Obi-wan. I want what’s best for you, I really do.”

Obi-Wan tries to get a sense for what the detective is feeling through the Force, but as always, it’s like trying to grab smoke with his hands--his senses just pass through.

“I’ll answer everything you want,” the detective says. “But please, let’s get out of here first.”

Obi-Wan nods. He’s not eager to be here, and there’s still three more kidnappers prowling around, presumably. “Okay. But I get to hold onto your blaster.”

The detective agrees, and the two of them leave.

---

There is a man in a speeder waiting about a block away. The man is taller than the detective and has darker skin and short black hair. He is also dressed much nicer than either of them. He looks at the detective with a sort of fond exasperation when he sees the two of them.

“Why do you always get into trouble like this?” the man asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the detective says. “I’ve never got into trouble like this before.”

“Well, it sounds like you get plenty of other types of trouble,” the man says. He looks at Obi-Wan and smiles softly. He looks like a kind man, but Obi-Wan’s met a lot of people who looked kind but aren’t. “Hello, Obi-Wan. My name is Bail Organa. I’m a friend of your, um.” He glances over at the detective.

“I’m not anything to him,” the detective says. “I’m just trying to get him somewhere safe.”

“Organa?” Obi-Wan asks. “Like the royal family of Alderaan?”

Bail nods. “I’m from Alderaan. I married into the royal family and I do some work for them.”

The detective snorts. “He means he’s the Viceroy and Senator. We might as well not dance around it.” To Obi-Wan, he says, “Bail’s a good man. I helped him out with a case a few years ago, so he’s paying me back the favor. He should be able to help you.”

Obi-Wan isn’t really sure what’s going on, but Alderaan is a good planet with a lot of social support. If Bail really is the Senator like he claims--and the Force gives no indication that he is lying--then he should have some connections to put Obi-Wan somewhere that isn’t too terrible. He nods his assent and Bail drives them away.

This is how the three of them end up in a very cushy apartment in that really expensive building where all the important people stay. The detective seems to find the building unpleasant to be in, but Obi-Wan likes it well enough. Bail gets Obi-Wan a glass of sparkling fruit juice and it’s sweet with a little fizzy sensation that he doesn’t find too unpleasant.

“I’ll let the two of you talk,” Bail says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

The detective nods and sits down opposite Obi-Wan. He looks more tired than usual--his hair’s in disarray and his eyes are slightly bloodshot. “You had questions, and I don’t blame you,” he says. “But before I let you get to all of them, I want to start with asking you: How old do you think I am?”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows. “Like twenty-three?”

The detective shakes his head. “I’m thirty.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He wouldn’t have guessed that at all.

“I’m sure you want to know why that’s important,” the detective says. “Well, it’s probably easier to just show you.”

He reaches up and pulls his face mask off.

A lot of things make sense rather quickly, after that.

---

The detective’s name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Seventeen years ago, he was a Padawan who left the Order to fight a war in Melida/Daan. Now, he is a private investigator in Coruscant because he cannot go back to the Jedi.

“So that whole time, you knew,” Obi-Wan says. “You knew who I was, and where I’d come from, and what I was.”

The detective nods.

“Why didn’t you take me to the Temple?” Obi-Wan asks. “Is it because you knew I’m not a Jedi anymore?”

“I didn’t take you to the Temple because I can’t make that choice for you,” the detective replies. “You chose to leave the Jedi, so you have to make the choice to go back.”

“You didn’t go back,” Obi-Wan says.

“We’re not the same person,” the detective says. “You are who I was once. But I’ve done things you haven’t and hopefully never will. You don’t have to grow up to be me. I sincerely hope you don’t.”

Obi-Wan looks down at his juice. He wonders what it must be like for the detective, to look at a past version of himself and realize they’ll never really understand each other. “Why can’t I sense you?” he asks. “In the Force, you’re...you feel empty. It’s like I can’t even touch you.”

“I lost the Force a long time ago,” the detective says simply, like that isn’t something that would kill just about anyone.

“But even people who are Force null can be sensed,” Obi-Wan presses. “Even if you...somehow lost your Force sensitivity, that doesn’t mean you should be like this.”

The detective scrubs a hand over their face. “I guess I should have known that wouldn’t get past you.” He looks up. “You can’t sense me because I haven’t been letting you. I didn’t want you to, because then you would know, and I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says. “But I know who you are now. Can you let me sense you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You said you would answer my questions,” Obi-Wan says.

The detective seems to think about that for a long time, then says. “Okay. Just this once.”

He takes a deep breath, and Obi-Wan feels the detective’s presence shift like it’s coming into focus. Obi-Wan reaches out to touch it, and--

There’s nothing there. It’s like the endless void of space, a black hole from which nothing can escape. The detective’s presence is so small yet impossibly vast, an infinity stretching out to the edges of the universe that’s trapped in the soul of a single man. There’s hurt trapped in that infinity, a crushing loneliness and feeling of insignificance, the feeling of being the only creature drifting in a sea of dead stars and who will swiftly pass, unmourned and unloved.

Just as quickly as the sensation had come, it shifts out of focus once again, pulling away from Obi-Wan’s reach. Obi-Wan blinks rapidly, realizing only now that there are tears in his eyes. His chest hurts like there’s a fist squeezed around his heart, the yearning for someone to reach out to him, to touch him, to keep him grounded and here and alive.

Does the detective feel like this all the time? Obi-Wan can’t even imagine it. He would go insane--he doesn’t know how the detective hasn’t.

Obi-Wan wipes his eyes. “You said...you said you knew someone like me. And that he didn’t have anyone to help, and didn’t know how to ask.”

“There are people who care about you, Obi-Wan,” the detective says. “It’s not bad to ask for help sometimes, and not take everything on yourself.”

There’s weight behind those words, a kind of loneliness that makes Obi-Wan’s heart hurt just to think about. He wonders just how long the detective has been alone and trying to fend for himself. He wonders if the detective isn’t still that way now.

“Is that why you’re so unhappy?” Obi-Wan asks. “You needed help and nobody was ever there for you?”

The detective looks at him for a long time, then looks away. “I don’t think you need me to answer that.”

---

That night, they stay at Bail’s apartment. It is much larger than the detective’s little shoebox studio in the undercity, and it even includes a guest room with a huge bed.

“You can share with me,” Obi-Wan says. “There’s a lot of space.”

“I’ll be fine on the couch,” the detective replies. “It’s large enough to drown someone on, anyways.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. Ever since he found out who the detective is and felt the depth of emptiness in his soul, he’s noticed how much the detective...doesn’t reach out. He does what he can for others, then relegates himself to the sidelines. Easily forgotten. Obi-Wan doesn’t want that. He wants the detective to be...better. To have something good and kind and soft. To have someone give him a striped tooka plushie and say it’s okay to have something frivolous just because it makes him feel better.

“Can you share with me?” Obi-Wan tries. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept on a big bed like this. I think it would be better if there was someone else, too.”

The detective looks at him like he knows what Obi-Wan is trying to do, then huffs and says, “All right. If you insist, I suppose I won’t mind.”

The two of them settle under the plush blankets side-by-side and Obi-Wan marvels at how much larger the detective is than him. There’s seventeen years between the two of them, longer than Obi-Wan’s entire life, and Obi-Wan can feel it. It’s a distance that can never be bridged, and the detective clearly doesn’t want it to be. Maybe that’s for the best, but it doesn’t mean Obi-Wan shouldn’t at least try.

The detective settles an arm over Obi-Wan’s side. He’s warm, and Obi-Wan goes to sleep wrapped in that warmth.

For the first time since he left the Temple, he feels safe.

---

The next morning, the two of them have a large breakfast courtesy of Bail, and Obi-Wan sees Bail make some eyes at the detective which raises a lot of questions about their relationship. Bail provides the detective a change of clothes which is much nicer than anything the detective owns, and later on, Obi-Wan sees Bail pass the detective a credit chip, which is...

Obi-Wan’s not sure how to feel about the fact that his future self apparently has some kind of...sugar baby arrangement with a Senator. He decides to ignore it--it’s none of his business anyways.

“What do you want to do?” the detective asks Obi-Wan as they leave.

“I want to go back to the Temple.”

Obi-Wan’s thought about it for a while now, ever since he got kidnapped. In the end, the Temple is still his home. His family is still there, even if they’re all so much older than him now. Maybe he isn’t a Padawan anymore and he never will be, but he can still have a good life there, surrounded by people he cares about. One setback isn’t the end of the world--not even one as big as what Obi-Wan did--the detective has proven that much.

The detective smiles. “Okay. We can go there today.”

“But can we wait a little?” Obi-Wan asks. “I just wanna...be with you today.”

The detective doesn’t seem to know how to answer that.

“It would make me happy,” Obi-Wan says.

The detective laughs. “You can’t use that to always get your way, kid.”

Obi-Wan makes big tooka eyes at the detective. “Please?”

“All right,” the detective says. “Just today, and then I’ll take you to the Temple.”

They spend the day in downtown Coruscant, seeing the sights. The detective takes him to a diner that’s run by a very cheerful Besalisk and Obi-Wan gets to eat a nerfburger the size of his head, then they visit one of the many aquariums and Obi-Wan looks at the colorful fish from so many different worlds. Obi-Wan drags the detective into a holo booth and he makes silly faces at the detective’s side. In that tiny little holo reel, the two of them really do look like brothers, and Obi-Wan gets two copies so he can slip one into the detective’s coat pocket when he isn’t looking.

For the first time since he became a Padawan, he feels like a kid in a good way--carefree and not having to worry about anything further than arm’s length. Nobody’s lives are depending on him, nobody’s judging his skills or his knowledge or if he’s making the right decisions. It’s just him and the detective in a city that’s so big and colorful and new.

When the sun goes down, the detective walks Obi-Wan to the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan holds the detective’s hand tightly, hard enough to feel the hard metal hiding under the detective’s right glove--something else the detective has chosen not to explain.

“This is as far as I can go,” the detective says when they reach the Temple’s threshold. The gates are not even five minutes’ walk away.

“You won’t go with me?” Obi-Wan asks.

“The Force doesn’t work for me the way it works for you,” the detective says. “And it feels like it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to enter the Temple grounds. I’m not a Jedi besides.”

Obi-Wan makes big eyes, but on this, the detective won’t budge.

The detective ruffles his hair. “Sorry, kid.”

Obi-Wan flings his arms around the detective and squeezes him tight. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for being there for me. And for looking for me when I ran away. And for--for everything.”

“It’s the least I could do,” the detective says. “I want you to be happy, Obi-Wan. Live a good life, find the people you want to be with, do something that is important to you. Be something better than me.”

“You’re not so bad,” Obi-Wan says. “You’re a good person, still. You helped me and did all those things even though you didn’t have to. You got through all those things that happened to you, and you’re still so kind. That’s important.”

The detective smiles sadly. “I’m glad you think so highly of me.”

“I just wish you weren’t so unhappy,” Obi-Wan says. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”

The detective shakes his head. “I made my choices a long time ago. You can’t change any of them. It’s not your job to take care of me, kid. Just look after yourself, okay? That’s all I want.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Okay. I will.”

He stays there for a while longer, clinging to the detective because he doesn’t want the moment to end, but eventually he has to go.

“What if they’re angry with me?” Obi-Wan asks. “What if they don’t want me back?”

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” the detective says. “The Jedi are kind and understanding people, and you were in a situation where you made a choice that was unfair and never should have happened. Maybe you won’t be able to have all the things you wanted, but that doesn’t mean things can’t still be good.”

That all makes sense, but Obi-Wan can’t help but think what if. “You should come with me.”

“The Temple is your home, not mine,” the detective says. “Now, go on. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you alive and well.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Goodbye, Obi-Wan,” the detective says. “May the Force be with you.”

“Goodbye, Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan replies, squeezing the detective’s hand one last time. “May the Force be with you always.”

With that, Obi-Wan turns and walks up to the Temple’s gates.

---

Obi-Wan’s appearance causes a bit of a stir in the Temple. And why not? He left the Order seventeen years ago and now he’s here again, still the youngling he was when he left.

He gets questioned by a lot of people who look a lot older than Obi-Wan expected them to. He even meets some of his old friends--namely Quinlan who happens to be on planet--who nearly bursts into tears to see him. He squeezes Obi-Wan tight in his arms just to see that he’s here and alive, gives him his old lightsaber back (and why Quinlan had it in the first place is a question for a later date), and introduces Obi-Wan to Aayla, his new Padawan. Obi-Wan greets her happily while trying not to think about how so much has changed since he last saw Quinlan that he doesn’t really even know him anymore.

He even sees Master Jinn once, who looks like his heart shatters the moment he sets eyes on Obi-Wan. He apologizes for what he did, for having so much pride that he made Obi-Wan make the choice he did, and for never going back. It’s a cold comfort, because he knows from the detective that for all of Master Jinn’s remorse, he never would have gone back.

Master Jinn introduces Obi-Wan to his new Padawan, whose name is Anakin and who is a little bit older than Obi-Wan. He’s got a Force presence like a sun, powerful and blinding, and Obi-Wan supposes he can see why Master Jinn would want a Padawan like that--someone skilled and strong and who isn’t tripping over their own feet.

Anakin looks at him up and down and seems to find him wanting. “Master Qui-Gon is my Master,” he says.

“I know,” Obi-Wan says. He supposes he would feel a little threatened, too, if he’d been a Padawan and his Master’s old Padawan had appeared out of nowhere. Anakin needn’t worry, though, because Obi-Wan’s not a Padawan at all anymore--he’s got no braid or anything.

Anakin nods. “Just so long as that’s clear.”

Obi-Wan decides he does not like Anakin very much. It’s obviously petty--it’s not like it’s Anakin’s fault that Master Jinn chose him, and he’s happy to be there--but Obi-Wan doesn’t like how proprietary Anakin is about Master Jinn, nor how it seems to come out every time Obi-Wan is near him.

Obi-Wan doesn’t like Anakin and that’s okay. There’s plenty of other people in the Temple.

After some very long days, Obi-Wan finds himself in front of the Jedi Council, awaiting their judgement. He’s scared, but it’ll be okay. No matter what happens, he can make something work, and worst case scenario he can probably go talk to Bail again and get some help, not that he expects to need it.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Master Windu says. He has more wrinkles than the last time Obi-Wan saw him, just over three months ago, but he looks as dignified as ever. “We believed you were lost to us forever. Perhaps it’s the Will of the Force that you were able to return to us.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond. He still doesn’t know how he came to be here, now, but he doesn’t think it’s very important.

“Between the assumptions we made about your fate and what appears to be time travel, we find ourselves in an unprecedented situation,” Master Windu says. “So I must ask, Kenobi. What do you want to do?”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. “I want to be a Jedi Knight, Master.”

“Master Jinn reported that you chose to leave the Order at Melida/Daan because you felt were unable to uphold its principles. Has this changed?” Master Windu asks.

“I...chose to leave the Order because I believed that I could help the war in Melida/Daan,” Obi-Wan says. “I understand that war is not the Jedi way, and that I have done things that I should not have, but I did those things believing they would result in the least harm, and because they were the best choices I had. I still believe in the principles of the Jedi Order, and want to live by them, and if you will welcome me back, I hope to continue my training and become a Knight that the Order can be proud of, Master.”

“Well said, young one,” Master Koon says.

“I understand Master Jinn can no longer be my Master, because he has taken on a new Padawan,” Obi-Wan continues. “But I would like to petition for another Master. I understand I may need a firmer hand of guidance to correct my past mistakes, so I humbly request that Master Windu or another member of the Council takes me on as a Padawan.”

Master Windu’s brows go up. “That’s a bold request.”

“If I am a Councilor’s Padawan, I will be sent on fewer off-world missions,” Obi-Wan explains. “It will reduce the risk that something like what happened at Melida/Daan will happen again, and you will be able to closely monitor my progress. I thought--it’s just...” Obi-Wan swallows nervously. “It made sense to me. I apologize if I overstepped, Masters.”

There’s a long silence as the Council deliberates, then Master Windu lets out a long sigh. “Well, it’s not that I don’t want to take you on as a Padawan...”

Obi-Wan’s heart sinks. He came on too strong--they’ll never let him be a Padawan now.

“But as it turns out, you’re already spoken for,” Master Windu says. “A Knight has already requested to be your Master, if you’ll accept them.”

“A Knight?” Obi-Wan asks. “Who?”

Master Windu gestures to the door, which swings open on cue. There’s a Mon Calamari in Healer’s robes there, and she smiles at Obi-Wan. It’s Bant. She’s so tall now, and she looks good and healthy and strong. She’s grown up into a real Knight, and it makes Obi-Wan’s eyes tear up to think of how much time has passed. Her presence in the Force is steady and warm, like it always was, like the crisp smell of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and she reaches out to him with joy and relief.

“Obi,” Bant says. Her voice is lower than it used to be, but she still says his name the same way. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my Padawan learner?”

Obi-Wan says yes. Of course he does--there’s nothing else he’s ever wanted more.

---

Obi-Wan spends his first day of being a Padawan for the second time not doing much at all. He helps Bant move into a set of rooms which has a Padawan suite--Obi-Wan himself has nothing to move, of course. He spends the rest of the day shadowing her work in the Halls of Healing and talking to her without words. He tells her about all the things that happened after he went to Melida/Daan, and she tells him about what she had done in the years since his disappearance.

A lot has changed in seventeen years. Master Tahl is dead, for one thing, and all of Obi-Wan’s old friends are Knighted now, or chosen different paths. There’s also a new Chancellor, which makes sense--it has been seventeen years, and politics are hardly going to wait for Obi-Wan’s time travel mishaps.

Bant is a Knight Healer, which means she does most of her work in the Halls of Healing, but also she helps with archival work under Master Nu and coordinates relief work with MedCorps and AgriCorps. It’s good work, and Bant has settled into it like she was born for it. This, at least, is not unexpected--Obi-Wan always knew Bant would find the right place for her. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if this is the place for him, but he’s willing to try.

“You’ll have some off-world missions,” Bant says. “They won’t be like the ones you had with Master Jinn--I mostly work relief missions, like administering vaccines, disaster reconstruction, or evacuations. Some of them, you’ll work with Service Corps members more than you’ll work with me--it’ll be a lot to handle at once, but you’ll pick it up quickly, I know it.

“Other than that, I can teach you about Archivist work or Healing, or if there’s something else you want to learn I can help find a Master who can work with you on that,” Bant says. “I want you to be the best you can be, Obi. Just let me know how I can help.”

Obi-Wan nods. The whole world is open to him now, and he just needs to choose a path. If only it were that easy.

“Obi?” Bant asks. “Is everything okay?”

“You’re so...talented, Bant,” Obi-Wan says. “You know so many things now and you’re so strong and kind and good. I don’t know if I can be like that.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Bant says. “All you have to do is try your best, and I know you will, because you always do. I’ve had all these years to learn everything I know now, and I’m still learning. I think it’ll be the same for you, too.”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan says. “It’s just a lot.”

“It is,” Bant agrees. “But we’ll make it through this together.”

---

A tenday after returning to the Temple, Obi-Wan finally asks the question he’s had ever since he found out who the detective was.

“Why didn’t anyone ever come back for me?”

Bant looks at him, takes a deep breath, and puts her tea down. “We didn’t know how bad it was, Obi. Master Jinn didn’t think you were going to be in the war the way you were, and he thought you would contact us again for help. He didn’t expect that you would fall off the map the way you did.”

“But even if I hadn’t engage in the fighting, it was still a war,” Obi-Wan says. “I wouldn’t have been safe.”

Bant shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t.” She moves the food around on her plate a bit, then says, “I had dreams after you left for a long time. Dreams of battlefields and blood and death. I tried to tell people about what I saw, but I don’t think anyone ever could have expected that you would...do what you did. You were just a youngling, after all.”

“The war went on for three and a half years after I left,” Obi-Wan says. “Why didn’t anyone at least try to check on me or see what happened?”

“At first, we didn’t know there was anything we had to check on, and after we realized how bad it was, we thought you were dead,” Bant says. “Your bonds all snapped, and we--we thought you were gone. Maybe that’s when you traveled through time.”

That seems like a reasonable assumption, but Obi-Wan remembers the emptiness in the detective’s soul and doesn’t think that’s right at all.

“When did that happen? The bonds snapping?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Just a bit after your fourteenth birthday, I think,” Bant says. “We held a pyre for you--your name is on the memorial.”

Realization floods through Obi-Wan. They...don’t know the detective is alive. They have no idea. All these years, the detective has been drifting through the galaxy, believing the Jedi didn’t want him, and all this time they’ve missed him and let him go because they thought he was dead.

“Bant,” Obi-Wan says tightly. “Bant, I need to tell you something.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“I’m not fourteen yet,” Obi-Wan says. “That thing you felt, that wasn’t me.”

Bant looks at him. “Obi?”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. “There’s someone you need to talk to.”

---

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Bant asks as Obi-Wan leads her up the stairs to a small undercity apartment. The two of them look very out of place, but it’s the place they need to be.

“I’m certain,” Obi-Wan says. “Just trust me, okay?”

“I trust you,” Bant says. “But I hope you’re not bothering some random civilian.”

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan replies. He stops in front of the door he remembers and presses the door comm.

There’s a long silence, then static. “Who is it?” the detective asks.

“It’s me,” Obi-Wan says. “Obi-Wan. I have someone you need to talk to.”

There’s a burst of static that is probably a sigh. “Kid. Didn’t I tell you not to get in trouble?”

“No, you told me to look after myself. That’s not the same thing,” Obi-Wan says. “Can you open the door please? It’s important.”

“Fine, just give me a second to make myself presentable,” the detective says, then shuts the door comm off.

Bant glances at Obi-Wan curiously, but doesn’t say anything. She’s patient enough to wait and see what happens.

Soon enough, Obi-Wan hears footsteps inside the apartment, and the door slides open. “All right, here I am,” the detective says. He’s clipped his hair up and put on one of those shirts that Bail probably gave to him--it looks too expensive for the detective’s usual budget. “When I dropped you off at the Temple, I didn’t mean you should come back, and--” He sees Bant and abruptly cuts himself off. There’s an awkward silence as they measure each other up. eventually, the detective seems to gather his thoughts and says, “...I see. Maybe the two of you should come in.”

---

The detective’s apartment looks just like Obi-Wan remembers--small and neat. The detective brews a pot of tea and in the meantime, Bant seems to take it all in, trying to find some meaning in the arrangement of the furniture and the trinkets, like she can unearth the detective’s secrets just by seeing the place where he lives.

Eventually, the tea is finished and the detective pours three mugs for them and pulls up a box to the table to sit down on--he only has two chairs. “All right,” he says. “What do you want from me?”

“Obi-Wan,” Bant says. “You’re...alive?”

“Of course I’m alive,” the detective says. “I’m too stubborn to die.”

“But I thought...with Obi...” Bant glances at Obi-Wan. “So you’ve been out here this whole time? How long have you been in Coruscant?”

The detective shrugs. “About five years now. I was out in the Outer Rim for a while, but I didn’t like how it was going and wanted to come back somewhere more familiar.”

“But you didn’t come to the Temple?” Bant asks.

“Didn’t seem like a good idea,” the detective says. “I’m not a Jedi by any metric anymore, and it didn’t seem like anyone would want me back.”

“Obi, no, that’s not true,” Bant says. “I’ve missed you ever since you left, all those years ago. I used to go up to the spire and look up at the stars and wonder if you were out there, and--” She lets out a long breath. “Obi-Wan. I’m so sorry we abandoned you.”

“It’s a little late to say sorry,” the detective says. “But I’ll accept the apology in the spirit it’s made.”

The two of them talk for a while, and piece by piece, Bant gets the story out of the detective--of the war at Melida/Daan, the crimes he committed in an effort to end the war, trying to come back to the Temple and being sent away by the Force, going to Jedha and then drifting around the galaxy with a notorious bounty hunter before coming back home to Coruscant. Obi-Wan can’t even imagine going through all of that, especially with nobody to support him.

“Don’t tell me to come back to the Temple,” the detective says. “I don’t belong there anymore, and I think it’s best for everyone that I don’t try.”

“Is that what you really want?” Bant asks.

The detective nods. “The way I use the Force now, I don’t think the Temple is good for me anymore, and I don’t want to see all the things I’ve lost. You can’t begrudge me that, can you?”

“If that’s your choice, I’ll respect it,” Bant says. “But you should at least let your friends know you’re alive. Quinlan especially would be thrilled.”

“He has a Padawan now,” Obi-Wan says. “Her name is Aayla and she’s a Twi’lek.”

“They let Quinlan have a Padawan?” the detective asks. “What is the world coming to?”

“Aayla’s a good kid,” Bant says. “Quinlan hasn’t corrupted her, somehow. They’re good for each other.”

The detective’s expression softens. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad everyone’s doing well in my absence.”

Bant frowns. “Obi-Wan...”

“I mean it sincerely,” the detective says. “It would be insane to expect you all to not move on. That’s not the Jedi way, and it’s not a good way to live, either. I’m glad you’re happy, even if I wasn’t there to see it.”

“Oh, Obi,” Bant says, and pulls the detective into a hug. “I missed you. I missed you so much, Obi.”

The detective goes stiff for a second, then relaxes into the hug and wraps his arms around Bant. “I missed you too, Bant. I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

---

Obi-Wan and Bant stay over with the detective for a couple of hours, talking and eating and playing a few rounds of cards where Obi-Wan loses very badly. It’s a good time, but it can only ever be temporary, and eventually they have to leave.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan says. “Can I...talk to him a little bit? Just on my own?”

Bant looks at the detective, then at Obi-Wan, and nods. “Okay. But don’t take too long--we’ve already taken enough of his time.”

Obi-Wan nods and goes back into the apartment, where the detective is washing dishes.

“Why are you back in here? Did you forget something?” the detective asks.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Obi-Wan says.

The detective runs a dish under the sink, then puts it on the drying rack. “Well, we’re both here. Say whatever you want to say.”

“I think you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Obi-Wan says. “I think you should forgive yourself a little more, and not feel so guilty about all the things that happened when you were in an unfair situation.”

“You want me to forgive myself for killing people?” the detective asks. “That’s not a very Jedi-like thing to do.”

“I get the feeling that you’re so unhappy because you’re...not the best version of you you could be, because you left the Order and aren’t a Jedi and can’t be a Jedi,” Obi-Wan says. “And because you’re lonely, and nobody was there for you, and you had to go through all those really hard things on your own.”

“I’m not the best version of you,” the detective says. “I’m not even the second or third or fourth best versions of you, because I decided to throw everything away when things got hard.”

“You’re the alive version of me,” Obi-Wan says. “And maybe it could have ended up better, but you’re here now and you’re still trying to be good and that matters a lot.”

The detective doesn’t answer right away. He scrubs the last dish and rinses it off, his expression as flat as it ever is. He sets it aside and shuts the faucet off. “Obi-Wan. I don’t need you to absolve me of what I did. That’s not your job.”

Obi-Wan balls up his fists. It feels like he’s talking to a wall--the detective won’t open up even the slightest amount. “Why--Why do you feel like you need absolution at all? Why do you feel so guilty about me? You are me.”

“I’m not,” the detective says. “I’m not, because sixteen years ago in a hellhole of a battlefield, I killed you. I killed you, an innocent youngling who was trying to do his best to help people because I was desperate and didn’t see any better way out but to get rid of everything that made me me. I ripped the Force out of my chest, I went back on all my vows, and I murdered you so I could live, and sometimes it feels like the only reason I’m still alive is so that your sacrifice isn’t wasted. If I could take it back, I would, because you deserve so much better than to become someone like me.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know what to say to that--what can he say to that? The detective isn’t what Obi-Wan ever wished to be, but he’s still so strong and kind and trying so hard to keep everything together, and it hurts to think that the detective would trade his existence for Obi-Wan’s in a heartbeat.

“I don’t--I don’t know what circumstances you were in,” Obi-Wan says. “Or the choices you had to make, or if you made the right or wrong ones. But if I...if I gave my life for you...I wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up for it forever. I would want you to be happy.”

The detective looks at him a long moment, then turns away and rubs his eyes. “Obi-Wan,” he says, and he sounds a bit choked. “You shouldn’t have come back here, much less brought back a Jedi. Just go home and forget about me. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.”

“I brought Bant here because you deserved to know,” Obi-Wan says. “The Temple didn’t abandon you because they didn’t want you--they thought you were dead, and didn’t know they could do anything.”

“Their reasons don’t change that they weren’t there for me when I needed them,” the detective says. “And now they’re not a part of my life at all.”

“But you still deserve to know,” Obi-Wan says. “They still love you. Even Master Jinn, who made all those mistakes when he didn’t go back, he’s sorry for what happened.”

“I don’t need or want his apologies. I spent years hating Master Jinn--and years getting over it,” the detective replies. “I don’t need to rip those wounds back open.”

Obi-Wan looks at him. He can’t read the detective’s expression at all, and his presence in the Force is just as ghostly as ever. “So you don’t want to go back to your family at all?”

“I don’t have a family,” the detective says, and that hurts. “You know what I’ve done, you know what’s happened to me. You know as well as I do that I can’t be a Jedi anymore. I know you want to help, Obi-Wan, but there’s nothing you can do. Let it go.”

But Obi-Wan can’t let it go. Not now, not like this. He steps up to the detective and hugs him tightly around the waist. “Maybe you aren’t a Jedi anymore and you never will be again,” he says. “And maybe you don’t have a family anymore. But you can have a new one. I’ll be your family, and Bant too, and probably a lot of other people.”

“Obi-Wan...”

“I know it’s...hard for you to ask for help, because you don’t know how,” Obi-Wan says.

“You shouldn’t use my words against me. That’s not fair.”

“So this is me telling you you’re not alone anymore. Because I’m here for you,” Obi-Wan says. “And maybe it’s not my job to make you stop being unhappy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be with you, because I like you, Obi-Wan. I forgive you. Even if you’re not who you wanted to be, I’m glad you’re here and alive and that I was able to meet you.”

The detective sets a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Well, you were always a better person than me.”

Obi-Wan headbutts the detective in the chest. “Don’t talk like that.”

The detective pushes Obi-Wan away. “You should go. Bant’s waiting for you.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Obi-Wan says. “Because I’m gonna come see you again, and I’ll be really sad if you get hurt or something happens to you.”

“You can’t emotionally blackmail me for everything,” the detective says.

“Will you promise?”

The detective looks at him, then sighs. “I have a dangerous job, you know.” Then, at Obi-Wan’s mulish look, he adds, “But okay. I promise I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says. He gives the detective another quick hug, then goes to the door.

“And Obi-Wan?” the detective calls out.

“Yeah?”

“If you’re going to bring a Jedi to my apartment again, can you comm ahead first?”

Obi-Wan grins. “Yeah, I’ll do that next time. I’ll see you then!”

The detective waves him goodbye, and Obi-Wan goes out into the hall where Bant is waiting for him.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“I think so,” Obi-Wan says.

“I’m worried about him,” Bant says as they head back down the stairs. “He’s so sad, I don’t even know how he stands it.”

“He is,” Obi-Wan agrees. “But I think he’ll get better. We’re here, and we’ll help him.”

Obi-Wan will never be able to understand what the detective went through, and that’s probably a good thing. All those years he suffered, all those trials he endured, the marks they’ve left on the detective will never go away. He’s carried so much guilt and remorse and anger over the years, mourning his own death and his own innocence, and Obi-Wan can’t change any of that, but he can make it better. The detective won’t have to face all those things alone anymore.

That much, Obi-Wan can be certain of.

[delu-jean]

hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚)

(Erwin x fem!/reader) -> Mentions of Historia! -> Fluff -> 1.6k 

Request: hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!

Notes: After the interaction the two had (somewhere in season three), I literally head cannoned him being her father! The chemistry between the two would be so sweet if they were!! The concept for this request was so adorable!! Thanks for the request, and enjoy! ^^

“We did it...we have the colossal now,” you’d say, knees shaking after all of the casualties. Erwin then caught you. Seeing how shocked you were, he tried to calm you down the best he could. 

“Yes Y/n...we did...but at a great cost.”

“Was it really one worth all of this trouble?” You said being unsure with such a loss. 

“Of course it was. For the sake of humanity.” 

“Right...for the sake of Humanity.” 

---

Many had died during the mission to Shiganshina. A lot of your comrades lost, along with your dearest friends. You mourned over such a thing, but ultimately, were glad for the ones who had survived. Levi, Hange, your dearest and most closest friends, still breathing as you spoke. And Erwin, your lover for gosh knows how long. Even after the stunt that was pulled, he still managed to survive. You were relieved that such a chaotic man...had escaped such a brutal mess. 

You were also glad that he saw what he had eagerly wanted to see. The basement that Eren had the key to. After hearing about some vague details from the commander, along with the other four who had entered, it gave you a mix of emotions. Both ecstatic to know there was more out there, yet terrified that such things were most likely forgein obstacles. Ones that would be hard to get rid of. 

Regardless, you were now heading back. Delivering both the books, along with yourselves, and whatever else you had left. At the entrance of wall Sina, there you see Historia waiting. She seemed ecstatic yet composed when greeting you all. And when seeing both you and Erwin, she seemed even more pleased. 

You see, even though Historia had her own birth parents, they never felt like her actual ones (based on the tragedies they caused). She’d been neglected...never feeling like she had someone to look up to. But when entering the Survey Corps, though it took a while to warm up to you, she ultimately did. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk to you, rather, it took some time for her to see you as a mother figure. 

You were maybe 15 years older than her, but even that being the case, you saw her as your own. Though she wasn’t calling you “mom,” nor were you calling her “your daughter,” you both had the relationship. Labels weren’t needed to understand such a thing. 

Since she grew up without the affection of her mom, she took your affection very seriously. She was thankful to say the least. Thankful for the nights you would console her, give her advice, and hear her out. Though Ymir had done the same, the difference was that you spoke the words of a mother. Erwin had also come around to this concept, and tried getting to know Historia on a more personal level. 

He saw how attached you were to such an extraordinary girl. That being the case, he too wanted to experience the joy you two shared. You of course encouraged such a thing, and therefore, he did his best when getting to know her. It was a good practice for him since for most (if not all of ) his soldiers, he considered them pawns. So that being the case, you took this as an opportunity for him to think otherwise. 

Another reason as to why Erwin was doing this, was because of his own personal experience. Though he did have his father, he was (eventually) taken away from him at a young age. He didn’t want Historia to go astray like he did in his teenage years. So, he tried building a connection. Hoping his input could help her in the best way. 

Though it wasn’t as easy going compared to the both of you, he did his best, and she appreciated the effort put in. He’d usually have conversations with her about life. The most simple, yet complicated philosophy out there. Maybe he would even pop in his childhood memories, and theories he had. Truly making the most of their time. And she enjoyed their interactions. You adored how close the two were. Though one was more tense than the other, the affection was clearly there. Just seeing them together, made you wonder as to how Erwin would be with his own children. Possibly yours if we’re being specific. 

Erwin then approached the girl on his steed. Bowing to the queen to be, along with the rest of you. 

“Princess Historia, we made many discoveries during our mission. Ones that we can discuss privately whenever it is to your liking,” Erwin said, composed with a respectful tone. 

“Of course Commander. Before we do, I think you could all rest. It’ll be best if you do, after all...it seems as if you could use it,” she took note of the lack of numbers, but decided not to bring it up. 

“Of course,” Erwin agreed and everyone left. Well...except the both of you. Hirstoria then invited you both into the castle. The three of you sat in a room, the two of you on one couch, while she sat on the other. Face to face as she took a sip of tea. 

“Forget about formalities, I’m glad you’re both alive,” she smiled and you did the same. 

“I don’t think it’s appropriate if we do...after all, you will be the Queen soon.” 

“Nonsense. Even when that does happen, nothing will change between the three of us.” 

“I guess not,” Erwin chuckled as she sighed in relief. 

“Now that that’s over with, let’s discuss the details over your findings.” 

“Sounds good, Queen Historia.” 

“Oh stop it Y/n,” she pestered as you giggled. 

“So, Historia…”

Erwin then went on about their findings. How there was an entire civilization across from them, how you all were subjects of Ymir, about the nine titans, and whatever else they had left to say. He seemed stern during his conversation, not only that, but you could sound the passion which rang through his words. He looked somewhat relieved that he saw such an extraordinary finding. Not only was it one step closer to saving humanity, but one step closer to fulfilling both his wants, and needs. 

You didn’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t made it out alive. The guilt of him not being able to see such a sight, nor Historia...would’ve crushed you if anything. You know that the both of you would have missed him dearly...and if anything, she would have felt responsible for his death. Something that was never predicted, yet under the control of the Scout regiment. A power that she had ruled over. 

Though this thought lingered, it was one that had not come true. And hopefully, things would stay that way. He was here with you. Safe and sound. Maybe a little bruised but hey, handsome either way. You then put your head on his shoulder, caressing his thumb. Though he tried keeping composure, he eventually gave in. Relaxing his body while in the warmth of your touch. 

“I see, interesting…” she nod to then say:

“Erwin, Y/n, you know how much I love the both of you. Because of that...when I do become queen...please don’t let our dynamic change. I find comfort in it, and hope that we can continue to have the relations set.” 

To your surprise, Erwin spoke first. His eyes soft, and his speech gentle. Staring at the young girl before him, who was now becoming an adult. 

“Of course. If that is what the Queen allows, I’ll be sure to do my part. For both humanity, but importantly, you Historia,” you then placed your own cup down, accompanying Erwin: 

“I agree. Of course, our manners will have to prosper when needed...but if we’re alone, or even if we’re not, feel free to come to either of us. We’ll care for you no matter what, okay?” she teared up a bit and then walked to the both of you. You both stood up, and grasped her. The mood felt both joyful, yet teary. 

“I’m glad you both made it. Please be careful out there,” Erwin, though reluctant, then placed a hand (A/n: the only one-) on her head. 

“Don’t worry, you can count on us, your majesty.” 

‘Ah my little girl...so grown and mature,’ she tightened her grip on your torso, as your arms were still wrapped around her.

“Yes...don’t worry. You can most definitely count on us.” 

---

As time progressed Historia got crowned. That being the case, she had more responsibilities on hand. Constantly working her hardest to help her people. You were glad to see such a young person blossom into such a strong woman. Though she did most things on her own, you and Erwin guided her when possible. Even when it came to the little things like if her drapes should be red, or green. 

There would also be moments where it was just the three of you, or you two alone. Now that she was queen, her time was of value. So you tried to spend it in the wisest way possible. Talking about politics could wait, those were the times where you all could express things heart to heart. Being honest about how she felt, versus how things ran. Expressing her love for the people she rules, and even the deep thoughts that kept her up at night. 

Both Erwin and you did your best to guide her through these emotions. Wanting to teach her both politically, and most importantly, emotionally. Prepping her for the duties she would have as both Queen, and herself. Raising her to be the person she wanted to be, and supporting her to the utmost of your abilities. 

“I think I understand now, what we have to do against Marely. Though it is just one step, it’s one step closer to saving the people of Ymir.” 

“Yes, yes it is...Historia,” Erwin said as he held your hand. 

“It definitely is...Historia.” 

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

They'd Bring You Back

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader 

Summary: You’re an unsub’s latest target, but your personality is way more than he bargained for. 

Warnings: Blood/descriptions of stabbing and cutting, typical CM drama, fluffy dad!hotch 

-

“And what about me?” You’d asked with a puffy lip, arms crossed, pouting as you sat on your father’s lap. He’d just laughed. 

“What about you?”

“If I got kidnapped.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’re so annoying, they would bring you back. And that-” He said as he stood up, taking you with him before setting you on the floor. “Is a promise.” 

Things had changed since you had that conversation. Drastically - back then you were only eight and your dad was a prosecutor for the DA. Your mom was alive. Your brother wasn’t even a thought in their minds at that point. And nobody could fathom what would happen when you were a little older. 

You went off the rails when your mother died. The trauma was enough that you ended up living with Rossi for a few months while your dad figured out how to juggle Jack and the job and all of your issues. That further fractured your relationship when you felt like he forgot about you. But since you moved back in with him, you had started to feel like things could be normal again. Like things could be good again. You were getting into a routine - Jack would stay with your aunt while your dad was on a case since he went to a school on the other side of town from yours, you would watch Rossi’s house while he was gone since you were old enough to stay by yourself, and you’d go pick up your dad when he got back from a case. 

They’d spent a week in Reno and really just wanted to get back to the house after mountains of paperwork. The holidays were coming up and your dad wanted to spend as much time with you as he possibly could, promising to take off some time to go on a day trip with you and Jack. You had made his favorite snack and walked out of Rossi’s front door, locking it and making sure it was locked, before going over to your car. 

You held the covered bowl of food in one hand, trying to get the right key in the other hand. You got as far as unlocking the car before you heard a shuffling noise behind you. You turned, seeing nothing alarming, but when you turned back there was an unfamiliar person in front of you. 

“Hotch, I think you need to accept that she was taken because...” Rossi started the next morning as they walked into the briefing room. The worst part of it was that they were being briefed on you. The police had determined that you’d been kidnapped, obviously, because there was no way in hell you’d start running away when things had just started to get better between you and your dad. 

“How could they have known?” Hotch asked. “How could this unsub have known it was my daughter walking out of your house?” Rossi shrugged, not quite having an answer, and the two sat down. 

“I’ve been thinking that the unsub must have been watching for a while. Long enough to know that she stays at Rossi’s when you’re both gone. They have to know who she is, Hotch. It doesn’t make sense for this to just be a random kidnapping,” Morgan said. 

“And if anyone can get through it, it’s her,” JJ offered. “She’s a strong-ass kid. She just needs to hold on until we can find her.” 

“Uh, guys?” Garcia walked in the room with a remote in hand, switching the large TV in the room over to what looked like a livestream. Of you. 

“Holy-” Morgan started. Hotch’s eyes widened in shock, and as if he couldn’t see he walked up to the screen. “It’s a snuff film.” 

You were tied up in a chair, a rope around your throat and your body so you were forced to sit up with your spine to the back of the chair. Your mascara was running down your face in silent tears.

“My dad’s going to find me!” You yelled to the unsub, looking around the room. They were watching the same camera that your dad was, but you didn’t know that. You didn’t know that you were the star of your very own snuff film. Suddenly the unsub’s voice came over the loud speaker in the dark, cold room. A cellar - you had to be in a basement or a cellar or something. You came to that conclusion at the same time as your father did, and you also came to the conclusion that he was watching you. This unsub was using you to get to your father, and somehow that pissed you off more than the idea of someone kidnapping you just for kicks. 

“He’s using her to get to me,” Hotch determined. “We need to find out how to contact this unsub. Get what he wants. Garcia, do everything you can to track them down. We need to figure out what he wants before he hurts her.” 

“My dad’s going to find me!” You yelled again. “I bet he’s already profiled how small your dick is!” 

“Okay, sweetheart, now’s not the time,” your dad mumbled as if he was speaking directly to you. He rubbed his pointer finger against a scar on his thumb, one you’d given him shortly after your mom died. 

“Although impotent might not actually be that bad of an observation,” Rossi suggested. You struggled against the hard ropes that were holding you down, only getting angrier and angrier at the unsub for not at least facing you. 

You finally huffed and looked at the camera in front of you, then around the room. You were definitely in a cellar or a basement of some kind - maybe even an old nuclear bunker or something. The walls were metal, but they looked home-made almost. The white paint was peeling off of said metal walls, revealing a rusty red color that looked like dried blood. Then you were there, in an antique-looking wooden chair. So it was probably an estate of some kind, you thought. Who else would just have this kind of shit sitting around unless they were older, and it had definitely been a younger guy that kidnapped you. You could only hope your dad made the same observation as he watched you on the other side of the camera. Because who else would that camera be for, right? 

“You know, your walls give off a lot of information about where I am!” You called throughout the room, looking at the green door. Just then, someone walked in. The same guy who kidnapped you, or at least the same body. But he was wearing a ski mask so you couldn’t identify him.

“Really?” The man asked. He actually seemed curious. 

“This chair is antique. So is this room. So you’re keeping me in some kind of family home or estate. I’d guess your grandma’s or your mom’s house because you don’t seem like the type of guy who would ever make it out. And because you’re leaving the mask on, you’re probably not going to kill me. Only people who plan to kill show their faces because they’re scared of being visually identified,” you rattled off. “And we were only in the car for about fifteen minutes, three minutes off of the highway, so there’s no way you took me too far. I take back the impotent thing, at least so far, because you haven’t tried to assault me yet. Anyone who was impotent or had that issue probably would have already.” The man stood there, his arms crossed over a black hoodie. You could vaguely see a shape within the hoodie pocket to know that it was a knife of some kind. 

“Good job, kid. Maybe you are your daddy’s kid. I’ve been watching you, you know.” You spit onto the floor out of pure disgust. How long had this creep been watching you? And how? 

“Yeah, and if you know who I am then you’re planning to ask for ransom money. Which, you should know, you’ll get. If the FBI won’t pay it, my dad will. But if you’re streaming this to him like I think you are, then you’re planning to do something to me until you get that money.”

“You are smart. I don’t have the letter ready yet, so I figured I’d come have a little fun.” The unsub noticed how calm you were and it kind of scared him a little bit - like who the fuck was calm in this kind of situation? He figured you would be scared, beg your dad to save you, but you were actually holding your own. Huh. 

Your dad noticed that, too, and his chest swelled with pride at the same time his stomach ached with fear for you. He kept asking himself why the unsub was sharing it, but he realized. He wanted your father to see what he was doing to you, he wanted your dad to see that everything that happened to you was a reflection of him. 

“He’s not a sexual sadist,” your dad said. “The motive isn’t sexual. At all.” 

“Good,” Morgan muttered. “But what do you think he wants, then?”

“He wants me to see my actions as a reflection of what happens to her,” he concluded. “He’s going to hurt her. Every time I give him something, it’s going to stop. And then he’s going to start again until I give him what he wants. I’m going to assume it’s money. She’s right about the location, at least from what I can see, so I would assume that money is the main motivation for this.” 

“Maybe bail money?” Rossi suggested. “It would make sense. If we put someone away, he would want to see them out. And bail would be a large amount of money.” 

“I’ll go tell Garcia to look for people we’ve put away who would be eligible for bail,” Reid said as he stood up. He shuffled away from the table toward Garcia’s office, leaving them to watch the live stream. 

“I’ll go make sure SWAT is ready when we have our guy,” Morgan said. “I’ll lead. You don’t need to go in there, Hotch, because for all we know he wants to actually hurt you as well as her.” 

“I’ll watch some of the initial footage back. See if we can figure anything about the location,” Prentiss volunteered. Everyone left the table except for your dad, Rossi, and JJ. Your dad had barely even paid attention, too busy looking at the screen as the unsub creeped around you. He had since drawn a knife, twirling it between leather-gloved fingers. 

“If you’re going to hurt me, there’s literally no reason to wait,” you pointed out to the unsub.

“You’re annoying. No wonder your dad doesn’t love you.” That hit a nerve in both you and your father, but you didn’t show it. You just sat up a little bit, adjusting your cold, frozen ass on the seat. 

“If you’re trying to turn him against me, it’s not going to work. I know he loves me, even in his own twisted way. So stop trying to make it seem like he doesn’t. Psychological torture isn’t going to work on someone who watched their mom die right in front of them.” Your dad’s heart fell thinking about all of the trauma you’d already been through, and how little of it you’d even discussed. After your mom died you just shut down to everyone, including the therapists who tried to help you get through it. You had just pretended like nothing was real and nothing was wrong. This, though? This was fucking real. And you couldn’t block it out no matter how badly you wanted to. 

Your father watched as the conversation shifted from just that to actual events that had happened, indicating just how long this guy had been watching. He talked about the fight you had three weeks ago about you accusing your dad of being too overprotective. Then he brought up a fight that was so bad that Jack literally ran down the street to get away from you two. And by then you were crying, begging your dad to just come get you and prove that he loved you. You had been effectively broken by the time the unsub left and he hadn’t even used the knife that he had. 

Your father watched absolutely helplessly as the man hurled abusive, and untrue, thoughts at your brain. He watched as the unsub untied you before leaving, allowing you to curl your legs up to your chest and cry on your own. You were doing so well a few minutes ago, so well that you thought maybe your dad might even be proud of you. But now? 

“Okay, I have a list of everyone eligible for bail that had anything to do with us. Cases we’ve consulted on, ones we’ve actually worked, all that jazz,” Garcia said over the phone speaker. 

“Can you cross reference that with men?” JJ asked.

“Honey, that takes one off the list of fifty,” Garcia answered. JJ sighed. 

“What about family issues? Garcia, check any cases that revolved around families. Where they were the target, the motivation, anything,” Rossi said. Everyone could hear Garcia typing, the sound fading out as everyone watched the screen to see what was going to happen next. Reid came back in the room carrying what could only be a ransom note. 

“It’s addressed to you, not the BAU,” Reid said as he handed it to your dad. He sighed, taking the letter, and sat down. 

Aaron Hotchner: 

You can see I have your daughter. You will deliver two installments of fifty thousand dollars. I will be live streaming to your organization as well as a chatroom. Until I receive funds, from this moment on, your daughter will be the star of her very own film. When you can acquire the funds, deliver them to the P.O. Box below. The installments must be in full, or I will not hesitate to kill her. The installments must be delivered over the course of twenty-four hours. For example, you may not deliver one hundred thousand dollars at once. Thank you for your cooperation. 

- X

“So he’s trying to get money in two different ways. On the chatroom and from you. This is serving more than one purpose,” Rossi said. He took the note. “Garcia, look and see if any of the bail amounts total one hundred thousand dollars. And look to see if any of them are cash only.” 

“Nothing. I’m sorry,” Garcia said after a moment of silence. 

“We’ll give them the first fifty thousand,” JJ determined. Everyone in the room turned to look at her as if she was crazy except for your dad. He was visibly shaken, eyes glued to the camera. 

“What?” Rossi asked. 

“We’ll give them the first fifty thousand as soon as we can get it. We can go ahead and trace the P.O. box, find any connections, and hopefully get our guy before it even gets delivered.”

“And if not?” Your dad asked. 

“If not, then we sincerely hope he’s bluffing about hurting her before he gets the second one. Twenty-four hours is a long time.”

Hotch turned back to the screen to see that you were sleeping until the unsub came into the room again. He slammed the door open, carrying a knife in his hand, and walked toward you. You jumped, but didn’t move. You had nowhere to go. You couldn’t leave, so you just sat there with nervous eyes. 

“I sent them the ransom note,” the unsub said casually. You swallowed. 

“Okay, and? We don’t have that kind of money, and federal funds aren’t going to be...” 

“I don’t care about federal funds. Someone better give me my fucking money. Isn’t it taxpayer dollars anyway?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” 

“Oh, I’m so hurt,” the unsub said, “boo hoo. You’ll be the one crying before too long. Sit back in the chair.” You didn’t try to run as he tied you up. You didn’t cry. You didn’t say anything. You just looked at the camera, eyes pleading for someone to fucking do something. If you knew your dad as well as you thought, he’d already made the connections about where you were, hopefully why the guy needed money, and they were already going through the ransom note. 

But, no. Your dad was watching as the unsub started by lifting your chin with the silver knife. Then he brushed your hair behind your ears. And then, out of nowhere, he dug the knife into your skin and dragged it down your arm. 

“Dad, please,” you said, knowing fully well that he was watching. You didn’t want to seem like you couldn’t handle yourself, but you were getting scared that maybe this guy was actually going to kill you if he didn’t get what he wanted. 

“Your daddy’s due to give me some money in a few hours. I figured I’d let you bleed until then.” The unsub was casual as he wiped both sides of the knife on your jeans and then walked out of the room, leaving you tied up. 

Garcia tried to had into the livestream and say something, but it didn’t work - there was no way to get a message to you. Your dad just had to sit there and call the bank, telling them that he needed to withdraw everything from his savings. He felt helpless as he watched you cry and bleed. 

The P.O. box turned to nothing. The guy had paid in cash and given them a fake name. Garcia’s search came up with four possible matches. Then she looked at property records, and then it was time to give the profile of the unsub. Your dad’s eyes were glued to the screen in the conference room, not even listening to the profile that he would usually be concerned about. He just sat there and watched, hoping that you knew he wouldn’t leave your side even then. 

The bank came through and let him withdraw the money, but not before the unsub came back and cut another gash into the same arm. Your dad went to the P.O. box and peeled his eyes away from the screen long enough to deposit the money. They had cops waiting to see who collected it, but nobody did. Nobody even tried to get anything from those boxes. 

“You should get some rest,” Rossi said later that night. Your dad shook his head, refusing to leave the screen. “He got his money.”

“And he said he’s going to hurt her still,” your dad insisted. “I’m not leaving her, even if it’s just a screen.” Rossi sighed. The rest of the team agreed not to leave you, either, and they sat there for most of the night, watching as the unsub cut you like a piece of paper. 

You had told the unsub numerous times that your dad was coming to get you, and those words haunted the entire BAU as they watched you on the screen. They weren’t coming because they didn’t know where to go. And then the unsub talked you up again, mentioning that he knew you were quiet enough that you wouldn’t scream. 

“Garcia, check for neighborhoods. Widen the search again, maybe it’s not bail after all,” Morgan instructed. Garcia started typing again. 

“There’s a Joshua Robinson, he lives twenty minutes from Rossi’s house. It looks like his father was one of our unsubs who didn’t make it four years ago. And it looks like he’s over that amount of time in missing mortgage payments. I think this could be our guy,” she said. 

“I’ll get SWAT ready again,” Morgan said. He stood up and left the room. Everyone went their separate ways except for your dad, who sat there and watched as the unsub full on stabbed you. Fucking stabbed you - you actually screamed at him instead of starting to cry. You called him impotent. A bitch. You called him slimy. You called him everything in the book and it only aggravated him more. 

Morgan drove as fast as he ever had over to the house. They raided it and found nothing - no basement, no nothing. And then they found the reason why the guy was so behind on house payments. They owned the land next to the house, too. It was only a matter of time before they found the bunker and the unsub trying to get away. 

Garcia had stopped the stream as soon as she could and called EMT’s to the scene, knowing how hurt you were and how much blood you’d lost. But it was up to your dad to go down to the creepy bunker and get you. He sighed as he descended the stairs and opened the now familiar green door, seeing you, untied but still in the chair. You were so bloody that he barely even recognized you. 

“Dad?” You asked as he walked in. He nodded, kneeling in front of you. 

“You’re safe, sweetheart, come with me,” he said softly. He threw the ropes off of you and reached underneath you, picking you up and being careful not to hurt you any more than you were already hurt. He took you up to the surface, holding your hand as the EMT’s worked their magic on your arm to try and keep you from bleeding any more than you already were.

They figured out that the unsub had been living at his father’s property, so behind in mortgage payments that he needed almost a hundred thousand dollars to pay for that and for property upkeep so he could sell the place and get a fresh start after attempted murder and kidnapping. You were right about almost every observation you’d made, down to the chair, and when your father looked around the room after loading you into the ambulance he realized just how smart you actually were. And how he hadn’t been paying attention to it. 

The next few hours were a blur - they wouldn’t let your dad come with you for anything at the hospital so he just sat there, waiting, with the rest of the team. The unsub had done quite a bit of nerve damage to your arm, leaving you unable to feel any pain in it for what may be forever, but at least you still had your arm. Rossi bought you a guilt gift of a new phone, too, since you’d dropped yours on the concrete, and said he was adding extra extra security to his house if you ever wanted to go there again. 

“You were watching the whole time, weren’t you?” You finally said to your dad, shutting your new phone off and putting it in your lap. He was going through some folder before he turned to you, nodding. 

“I wouldn’t leave you if I was there. And I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”

“I’m sorry that anyone thinks I’m worth a hundred thousand dollars.” That made him laugh, if only a little bit. “You always said that they’d bring me back if I was kidnapped.”

“Because you were so annoying!” He laughed. “I think the guy almost did. He was getting pretty fed up with you.” Joking about it, it seemed, was the only way to not cry about it. At least in your family. 

“Yeah, I think telling him he had a small dick was a lot for him.” 

“I’m really proud of the way you handled that.”

“I had nowhere to go if I tried to run,” you shrugged. “You always taught me that if I’m in a bad situation, stay in it unless I have a way out. You said that’s how you always get through things. Because you don’t just walk out on them.” 

“You don’t feel like I walked out on you, do you? And you don’t think that’s why we are the way we are?” You looked down, thinking about it for a minute, before you shook your head. 

“No. But-” Your eyes lit up when Rossi walked Jack into the room. He was holding another guilt gift, too, and ran up to you. You picked up your brother and put him in your lap, making him laugh.

“What happened to your arm?” Jack asked, poking at a bandage. You tried not to wince, smiling instead. 

“Just a bad guy. But I worked the case,” you told him. He smiled.

“Just like Daddy?”

“Yeah,” your dad said with a smile as he walked over to the two of you. “Just like me.” 

A/N: Just some good ole classic Dad!Hotch for y’all... I hope you like it as much as I do!! 

[procrastinatorimagines]

Better Than They Know

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,827

Request:  Hello! I Hope you're doing good! I don't know if you ccurrently do requests or not or if this is where to ask for them but I have one in case you do take them. Evan Buckley x reader where his parents come to town and they are really passive agressive towards him, complaining about his work and that he's "not as nice of a boy as he used to be" but he doesn't tell them to stop. Eventually they remark on his birthmark, hitting an old insecurity and reader comforts him? Thank you for your time! <33

You’d never met Buck’s parents, and he barely spoke about them, so when you got a call at work from your boyfriend telling you his family would be joining you both for dinner that night you’d spent the rest of the day fretting about what to wear, what to say, how to act...

Maddie and Chimney would be there too, but Buck had told you he wouldn’t survive the dinner without you, whatever that meant. You knew things weren’t great between the Buckley’s and their parents, but they’d both always been so vague on the details. Maybe you should have pushed, but you didn’t think you’d meet them this soon.

“They can’t be that bad, you and Maddie turned out great,” you tried, phone between your ear and your shoulder as you fastened the burgundy blouse you’d opted to wear. 

“Just wait until you meet them,” Buck said in a low voice, calling to check what time you’d be arriving. You could hear conversation in the background, definitely Maddie and two other voices you didn’t recognise, presumably the parents. 

“Is this really how you chose to decorate your living room?” You heard a female voice call out to Buck, hearing him sigh a little on the other end of the line, clearly wearing thin. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll come save you as soon as I can,” you promised, tucking your shirt in and searching for your earrings, curious to see just what Mr and Mrs Buckley were actually like.

“Thank you, thank you,” he repeated gratefully, getting called again by his parents as he hurried up his good byes, “I love you, see you soon.”

“I love you too, bye,” he hung up, leaving you to pick up the pace a little. He sounded stressed, and on edge, two things Buck rarely was. You wished he’d told you more about them, but you guessed you’d just have to find out when you arrived. 

Double checking you had everything and giving yourself one last look over in the full length mirror by your door, you headed out.

Buck had text you to just come right on in, so you made your way into his apartment and headed straight for the dining area, following the sounds of strained conversation with anticipation. Chimney seemed to be trying to carry a conversation, but it was clear from where you were standing that there was tension between the four Buckley’s.

Maddie gave you a pained look when she noticed you, still offering you a welcoming and almost pitying smile as the sound of your footsteps alerted the others to your presence.

Buck lit up, standing from his seat to kiss you. “Hey, glad you could make it,” he said, taking the wine you’d brought off of your hands so you could sit down.

“You must be Y/N,” the woman who was clearly Buck’s mother smiled, standing to hug you in greeting. It took you by surprise, but she seemed friendly enough. “I’m Donna, this is my husband Steve,” she told you, Steve standing up to shake your hand as you all settled down at the table.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” you told them, glancing between Buck and Maddie, then at a relieved looking Chimney. You’d come because Buck had wanted saving, but you actually thought he looked the most uncomfortable out of everyone here, which was saying something. 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you too, even though we haven’t heard very much about you,” Donna said with a pointed look at Buck, “I was hoping we’d get a chance to meet sooner, but it seems like we have to put in all the effort if we want to see our kids.”

“You know how busy we’ve been with work,” Buck explained, which was valid given that his parents lived out of state and both siblings worked five out of seven days a week. 

“You always are,” Steve retorted in a tone you couldn’t quite read, but from the way Maddie took a large gulp of her wine, you felt that this was an old issue in the Buckley family, and one that had probably already been brought up today.

The food looked lovely, so you settled in and took a bite as a bit of an awkward silence fell over the table, Chimney shooting you a sympathetic and knowing look that had you dreading what was to come.

“So Y/N,” Steve began, ignoring the looks of dread from both his children as he continued, “do you put on a costume and run into fires for minimum wage or do you have a proper job?” 

Oh crap. You slowly swallowed the food in your mouth, looking at him in a little bit of shock.

“Dad-” Maddie tried despairingly but he waved her off with a dismissive hand, still looking at you as he awaited your response. It suddenly felt like you’d turned up to an interview unprepared.

“Oh er, I’m a lawyer,” you replied finally, sticking more food in your mouth in the hopes of not having to say anything else on the matter. No wonder Chimney had looked so happy to see you - had he been subject to same third degree? From the way Steve had just spoke about firefighters, you figured you had your answer.

“Oh, see that’s what we wanted Evan to do, but...” Donna looked at Buck like some kind of child who’d just disappointed her, “it wasn’t his strong suit.”

You bit your tongue, your stubborn protectiveness rising up. These were Buck’s parents, there were certain rules of etiquette right? You couldn’t put them in their place? 

“I love my job,” Buck spoke up for the first time, “I’m good at my job, I help people-”

“Of course, we’re only saying we wanted more for you,” Donna clarified like that made what she said any better, or did she not even see anything wrong with it?

“What more could you want? That was your dream for me, not mine,” Buck replied defensively, the fake polite smile on Donna’s face vanishing. Steve put his cutlery down then, not happy with the tone Buck had just taken with his mother.

“Evan, really, what happened to that nice and polite boy we raised?” He scolded, voice stern. Buck clamped his mouth shut again quicker than you’d ever seen.

“Mr and Mrs Buckley-” you tried to interject, but Buck shook his head at you, resigning himself to accepting the criticism and insult once again.

You and Chimney shared a confused and helpless look, unsure of what to say or do in this situation but both wanting desperately to say or do something. 

The meal continued awkwardly, with snippets of small talk mixed in with the sound of cutlery and eating, and you naively began to think that the worst of it had passed. Donna had just asked what kind of law you specialised in, but by the time you’d finished explaining, it became clear that Mrs Buckley wasn’t done saying her piece from earlier.

“I’m glad Buck’s found someone mature and grown up, surprised, but glad,” she told you cheerfully, their complete lack of awareness at how terribly they talked to their children startling you once again.

“How so?” You asked, voice tight, your protectiveness beginning to boil over. Chimney saw the way you tensed, knowing you well enough to know that things were about to take a turn as he cleared he deliberately cleared his throat, warning you.

“Mom-” Buck tried with no small amount of desperation as Donna took a breath to reply to you, somehow unaware of your tone or expression.

“No no, you know what I mean, good job, good looking, Evan’s lucky he isn’t insecure about dating someone who earns more than him,” she and Steve laughed, but your jaw was clenched so tightly you thought your teeth were going to shatter, “oh don’t get me wrong, he is handsome, but we always said, he’d look much better if he fixed that mark on his face.”

You saw white as she tried to gently touch his face to make her point, looking a little insulted when Buck ducked away from her hand. She was about to make yet another comment when your knife and fork clanged down onto the plate with deliberate force, making her jump and stopping the conversation. Buck took that moment to get up, shoving his chair back and leaving the table.

“Buck!” Maddie called her brother, looking at her parents with disappointment. Donna shot back a questioning look, like she didn’t know what she’d said or done. 

“Evan we’re in the middle of dinner-” Steve seemed like he was about to lecture his son on his table manners, but you stopped listening, making a show of throwing your napkin down onto the table and glaring at both his parents before storming off after Buck without another word.

You found him in the bathroom, leaning with his hands on either side of the sink, head hung low and eyes closed. Without a word you went up behind him and wrapped your arms around his back, hugging him as you felt him release a breath, grateful as one of his arms moved to yours.

“I love you,” you told him, tightening your grip to emphasise the point, “they shouldn’t speak to you like that, they don’t have any right to.”

“They always have,” Buck sighed. You hated this, absolutely hated it, and you had just the mind to march back in there and tell Mr and Mrs Buckley just how much you hated it.

“That doesn’t mean they should,” you said with force, trying to convince him that he deserved more as you pulled the hand that was holding yours, getting him to turn around to face you. “Evan Buckley, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re charming, and you’re ten times the man they could ever imagine, try not to forget that.”

“I not-” he began but you shook your head, not letting him get in a word of self-doubt and insecurity.

“Yes, you are, and even if I have to repeat it over and over, I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it too, okay?” You weren’t actually asking, and he knew that as he met your eyes, reluctantly nodding with a small smile of appreciation.

You sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I wish you could see yourself how I do, how the rest of us do, you’re far too good for them and better than they’ll ever know. I love you.”

“I- I love you too,” he got out, a little choked up by your sentiment as he cleared his throat and blinked a few times. “We er, we should probably get back in there and save Maddie and Chim, huh?”

You laughed, “I’ll try not to stab your parents with my knife, but I can’t say it’s a promise.”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call. 

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men. 

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?” 

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.” 

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.” 

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?” 

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative. 

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled. 

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.” 

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.” 

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?” 

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?” 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.” 

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself. 

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.” 

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!” 

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.” 

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it. 

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.” 

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources. 

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter. 

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!” 

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.” 

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen. 

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.” 

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Dinner that night is stew.

 You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

 “Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

 You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

 “His face?”

 You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

 “He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

 She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

 “I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

 For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

 “How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

 You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

 He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

 Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

 That was the last time you went to camp.

 Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

 Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

 Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

 You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

 You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

 You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

 “Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

 Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

 “Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

 Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

 “Oh God, help me . . .”

 “God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

 Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

 She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

 “Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

 “Oh God,” she gasps.

 “Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

 “NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

 The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

 You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

 The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

 “Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

 Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

 “Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

 “You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

 “That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

 Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

 You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

 You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

 You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

 He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

 You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

 “Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

 He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

 You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

 He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

 “I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

 He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

 “What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

 In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

 Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

 Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

 “Come on, then.”

 Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

 “Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”    

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.               

[the-broken-truth]

Donna meeting a doctor/field medic who manages to reduce/eliminate the cadou parasite growth on her face- 👨✈️

Broken Truth (Holding a Granny Smith Apple): An apple a day keeps the doctor away...(Throws it over my shoulder and walks off to find some granola & yogurt)

It had been half a year since he arrived in the small Romanian village with nothing but a small bag of clothes, a leather doctor's bag, a pouch of Lei, and the smile on his face. For an outsider - he was well versed in the language and asked if there was any property that he could buy; he was given 2 small plots of land that were completely bare.

One the first month of his stay - he cleared the land of any imperfections and started to build. Upon his first plot - he made a home, a firm structure of wood and stone. The villager watched as he broke the stone into pieces and combined them with clay before sculpting them into a kind of paste and filled a strange wooden mold he made on the flattest area of the ground he owned. They watched as the man stabbed long wooden posts in each corner of the paste and some in-between of others. After a day of waiting - the pasta hardened into something as strong as the castle's stone.

Then began making the bones of his house to ensure it would be sturdy in the most unforgiving of winters and it would remain warm in the hardest of rains. Once the bones were placed - he built the rest of his house and used the remaining paste to fill any possible crack. His home was done but...empty. He went into town the next day and did business with a rather fat man who didn't wear shoes and his hands were drowning gems.

Upon the next 2 months - he built a business upon his second plot - a business that most residents of the village appreciated for he was a man of medicine and he was very good at his job. He spent a lot of time familiarizing himself with the land and the forest, along with the plants and berries to make different kinds of salves to relieve anything or...could he really heal everything?

The sound of the bell above the door made the man look from the clipboard he was writing on - he was taking inventory on which salves he was running low on. He looked upon a veiled woman in a black dress with a doll in her arms.

"Good Afternoon," He began as he placed the clipboard back on the hook attached to the wall beside the dresser, "Welcome to the [L/N] Clinic. What can I do for you?" The man asked with a smile but instead of the woman speaking - the doll did.

"This is Mistress Donna Beneviento - The Head of House Beneviento, 2nd Lord of the Village." The doll said.

"Oh, so this is Lady Beneviento? A pleasure to meet you." The doctor bowed before looking at the doll. "And what about you, Young Mistress?" The doll looked confused for a while.

"My name is Angie - Lady Donna speaks through me as she isn't very...trusting of humans."

"Understandable. I am Dr. [Y/N [L/N] - The owner of this clinic. What has caused the Second Lord to bless me with her presence?" The doctor asked with a smile.

"Have you heard of the Cadou?" Angie asked.

"Vaguely. I hear some whispers around about the word but I never really investigated much into it." [Y/N] said.

"The Cadou is a kind of living parasite that infects its host with incredible abilities but it changes its host in some of the worst ways," Angie explained.

"Allow me to assume - Lady Beneviento is infected with one of these Cadou and you wish for me to do something about it." The doctor said.

"Yes. The Cadou in Lady Donna's Link to me - it's the reason I am a living doll but it has caused a horrible scar upon her face that she wishes to be removed or at the very less, reduced in size; we're hoping it won't affect her abilities though." Angie explained.

"I think I might be able to craft a represent for the Cadou but I need a sample of it first." He looked at Donna. "Lady Beneviento, may I see the scar? If I can collect a sample of this Cadou, I can craft something to aid you." The doctor explained. There was a moment of silence before Angie spoke again.

"She shall remove her veil but she warns you - it is not good. Please, do not judge." Angie warned. With a firm nod from the doctor, Donna removed her veil and the doctor's eyes widened before a blush crept upon his face.

"Lady Beneviento...you are...radiant."

'What?' Donna thought.

"What?" Angie asked.

"Forgive my forwardness, but, My Lady, you are a marvel; a true masterpiece, even with your difference. You shouldn't hide such beauty." The doctor praised her with a blush on his face before he looked at the ground like a nervous child talking to his crush.

"You...You really think so?" The voice of the Second Lord asked.

"Most certainly!" The doctor reassured.

[Y/N] went into the back and retrieve two empty syringes and walked over to Donna - slowly piercing it through the skin of the Cadou that took her right eyes and pulled back on the injector to collect the blood infected with Cadou Cells before using the second syringe to take a sample of Donna's blood from her arm unaffected by the Cadou. He promised to find something and call them when he found something and gave them a bow before they left.

He was sad when they left.

[A Few Nights Later]

[Y/N] had not returned home as he looked through the two microscopes - the one of the left was a small sample of the Cadou Cell Blood while other one held the blood of Donna unaffected. [Y/N] had been working for 3 days straight - making sure to tend to his clients but he hasn't slept or really eaten a full meal. He wanted to help Donna.

This was this 5th Attempt at the Cadou repressant - he was sure to document any kind ingredients used in case his memory failed him. He dripped the dropper into 2 nliquified ingredients and plopped it on the slide of the Cadou Sample and his eyes widened as the cells reacted, changed, and began to shrank until they were nothing but small cells - the same as T-Cells. He looked between the 2 microscopes and was pleased with his results and made a note to call Donna in the morning.

'I can't wait to see them again.' The doctor smiled before he walked over to his office chair and fell asleep - his dreams filled with images of the Head of House Beneviento.

[The Next Morning]

"Lady Beneviento and Angie! I'm glad you both got my call!" The man said with a smile as the veiled woman and her doll entered his shop.

"A pleasure, Dr. [Y/N]. When we received your call this morning, we rushed over. We assume you've made promise." Donna said.

"Better than that! I constructed a Cadou Shrinkage - it will shrink the Cadou down to cellular level while still remaining within you so you won't lose your link to Angie." The Doctor smiled.

"And...you are certain that this will work?" Donna asked with slight fear in her voice but soon her hands were taken in the doctor's - they were warm and comforting.

"I swear upon my life, My lady, this will work." He said as he brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles; making the dollmaker blush under her veil.

"O-Okay..." Donna whispered and the two of them went to the Operating Room.

[Hours Later]

Donna looked at her face in the memory - her complete human face. The Cadou Shrinkage was successful but due to it consuming her face for so long, her right eye was blind but [Y/N] assured her that he would be able to contrusct something to restore her sight; in the meantime, he gave her an eyepatch to cover just the eye. She thanked him and processed to gather living doll in her arms before turning to the door to leave when...

"Wait! Lady Beneviento..." She turned to look at the blushing face of the young doctor.

"Yes, Dr. [Y/N]?" Donna asked with a raised eyebrow - his blush darkened.

"I...Um...Have you eaten Breakfast, yet?" He asked as he scratched his cheek with the tip of his finger.

"No. I have not." She answered.

"Then...May I have the honor of taking you out for a late breakfast?!" He asked with a bright face and she smiled.

"I would love that." She nodded.

"Oh...Just fuck already." Angie groaned in Donna's arms.

"ANGIE!!!" Donna and the Doctor blushed before he closed up shop for the day and the 3 of them walked into the light of the sun with smiles on their faces.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

with this unruly heart of mine

in which we all wish our parents reacted the same way as Alcina does when one of her daughters comes out to her

title is from Unruly Hearts from The Prom because it fit

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

MERCUTIO

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Alcina read that line over and over again, but she still had no idea what the hell any of it really meant. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions of her seat. If she kept getting caught up on the literary meaning of every other paragraph then she would never finish this damned book.

She picked up the teacup sitting on the stand beside her chair and took a long sip. The tea was of sweet cinnamon on her tongue. It left a much better taste in her mouth than the rather gross relationship between Romeo and Juliet in this book. If the short amount of time the two knew each other wasn’t bad enough, the age gap made her teeth bare and nose wrinkle in disgust. What the hell was this William Shakespeare guy thinking when he wrote this?

The soft sound of bare feet padding against hardwood brought her back to the surface of complete awareness, her focus shifting away from the book and to the late-night arrival watching nearby.

A certain fly child stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was shaggy from seemingly just waking up--or maybe she hadn’t slept at all in the first place. Unruly blonde locks were sticking up in various directions around her head, framing her face like an adolescent lion’s mane. The nightgown she wore was a size too big and drowning her thin frame.

The light from the fireplace made her golden-amber eyes look hollow.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Bela inched her way onto the cushioned chair beside Alcina’s. She pulled her knees up her chest, bare toes poking over the edge of the seat, and Alcina regarded them with a scrunch of her nose.

“What have I told you about going around the castle barefoot?” Alcina chided gently.

Bela didn’t look away from the flickering fire in the fireplace. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Something was bothering her.

Bela was a rather fickle little thing. Some days, she wanted to tell Alcina everything, every little fact of the new knowledge she had obtained from her books, all the small details of her latest stories or ideas. Other days, she put up walls and gave vague answers to questions prodded into her sensitive skin, curling into herself like a frightened snail afraid of being interrogated. This seemed to be something of the latter, and Alcina made a mental note to tread lightly to avoid upsetting her daughter.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Alcina said, waggling the book in her hands, trying to make small talk with her distressed child. She didn’t want to pry and further put Bela on edge more than she clearly was, but she couldn’t not do something about her bitter mood. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t at least attempt to help with her kids’ problems?

“I can hardly make heads or tails of anything they’re saying,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Bela raised her head from her knees slightly. “What book is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

There was a morbid snort. “How coincidental…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bela shook her head. “Lemme see. What part are you at?”

Alina pointed out the current line she had reread at least five times over without being able to discern the Shakespearean into modern-day language. Bela, however, looked it over once, scanned the other pieces of dialogue for context, nodded, then explained, “In this scene, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio are sneaking into a party thrown by the Capulets by wearing masks to disguise themselves. Romeo is upset over Juliet and says he isn’t going to dance. Mercutio then teases him over this and turns all of Romeo’s words into gratuitous sexual metaphors to poke fun at him. Mercutio ends up going on this whole rant about Queen Mab of the fairies, who visits people in their dreams until Romeo and Benvolio cut in to get things back on track. Romeo also kinda foreshadows the entire play at one point. See? Right here: ‘I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death.’ I do believe that is hinting at his eventual fate of death.”

Alcina blinked at her for a moment before smiling fondly and rubbing her head. “Such a smart girl,” she cooed. “I could have never gotten that out of this .”

Bela smiled, but then it quickly disappeared, and she leaned back into her chair, curling up and watching the fire once again.

Now Alcina was really concerned. Bela was never one to let go of praise and affection so easily. Usually, she savored it a bit longer before moving onto something else, but here she was, brushing off Alcina’s words and touch as though they were nothing.

Something was very, very wrong.

However, before she had the chance to take the risk and attempt to ask questions, Bela spoke up.

“Have you ever been in love, Mother?”

Surprised, Alcina asked, “And what brought this up?”

Bela shrugged, not making eye contact. She kept looking at the fire as though she wanted to throw herself into it. Her voice was small, so small. “Just curious.”

“I see,” Alcina nodded. She looked up, thinking for a moment as she wracked her brain of the memories of her past life. “I have been in love before. Many times, actually.”

Bela gave her a curious look, finally pulling her gaze from the flames. “Really?”

“Indeed,” Alcina confirmed. “Though, I do believe that just comes with growing up. You gain lovers, you lose lovers. Some were real, some were fantasies I made up. Some lasted a few days, some a few months, some a few years.” She took a sip of her tea again. “None of them really mattered in the end, though. Clearly.” Another sip.

Bela nodded faintly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Alcina decided to ask.

Strangely, Bela went rigid. Her claws clenched around the sides of her calves as she stared forward with pupils that were constricted into pinpricks. Sweat beaded along the golden crown of her head.

“I-I-- umm…”

Alcina furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She closed Romeo and Juliet with a bookmark to mark her page, then set a hand on Bela’s back. Her daughter was trembling.

“Bela?” Alcina said, keeping her voice soothing and low to avoid setting off the poor girl even further. “Is everything alright? You don’t look well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bela answered her, much too quickly for it to be convincing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Before Alcina could prod further, Bela shot up to her feet. She began to chew on one of her claws, flexing her free hand at her side in visible agitation. Pieces of her skin broke off into flies and buzzed around her head madly. She seemed to be dissociating in panic.

“Bela,” Alcina rose to her feet slowly, not wanting to accidentally frighten her daughter. “Bela, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bela said, even when she was so obviously far from fine. Her chest was beginning to heave.

“Darling,” Alcina said, and that seemed to get Bela to crack a bit.

With a tight whimper, Bela shook her head. “Hard-- hard to breathe--”

Instantly, Alcina loosely took Bela by the arms and lowered her to the ground. In the firelight, she could see the pallor of her daughter’s increasing panic as it morphed into a complete attack on her anxiety. Bela grabbed her wrists with her claws dug in for desperate grounding, and Alcina let her, even when it stung her skin. Her comfort was far from important in that moment.

“Alright, honey,” Alcina said. “We’re going to do the thing we’ve been practicing, alright? Do you think you can do it?”

Wordlessly, Bela nodded.

“That’s my strong girl,” Alcina said. “Alright, give me five things you can see.”

“Y-you,” Bela stammered. The words shook when they left her lips. “Your hair’s kinda bushy.”

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thank you for pointing that out, Bela.”

Bela’s fight instantly gave in at that and she hunched her shoulders in, looking ashamed. Quick to correct herself, Alcina lifted her chin so they could make eye contact.

“I was only teasing you, honey,” Alcina said. “Keep going.”

Bela nodded. “The fire; it’s really pretty. Your-- your, umm, chair; it looks soft. The book; not the best of Shakespeare’s works. And, ah-- the teacup; it has doves on it.”

“Very good,” Alcina praised. “Four things you can feel.”

“The fire’s-- the fire’s warmth. My heart in-- my heart in my throat. The floor under me; I should have worn socks.”

“I told you,” Alcina cut in playfully.

Bela swallowed thickly. “A-and, umm-- and my anxiety. It’s like a Lycan in my chest.”

Alcina frowned at that but quickly wiped it off her face for now. She stroked Bela’s cheek, gaining a spark of hope when Bela leaned into her hand.

“I feel you, too,” Bela said.

“You only needed to name five, little moth,” Alcina said, bopping her on the nose.

Bela just shrugged.

“But you’re doing so well. Can you give me three things you can hear?”

“My heartbeat in my ears; it sounds like thunder. I don’t like thunder. Umm-- the fire crackling; I like that. And-- and a raven outside. I think that’s Merlin. His cawing is kinda raspier than the other birds’. I think he may have hurt his throat at some point.”

A small smile grew onto Alcina’s lips. She continued caressing Bela’s cheek as she talked to her. “Now two things you can smell.”

“Fear,” Bela said almost instantly. Her nose twitched. “I smell fear.”

Alcina could smell it, too. The thickened dread wafting off of her shaken daughter was acrid, bitter, and unsettling.

“Umm--” Bela’s claws fidgeted, clicking against each other softly. “And your tea. Smells like cinnamon. Cinnamon makes me sneeze.”

“One more. One thing you can taste.”

“Fear.”

“Fear?” Alcina echoed, one eyebrow raised. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What does fear taste like?”

Bela stared down at her claws, which she splayed open before herself. “It-- it has a slightly dull metallic taste that’s mixed with urea, I think. Sometimes it tastes like popping a bloody, pus-filled blister in your mouth and squeezing every drop out with your teeth and savoring it on your tongue. Sucking the wound clean and swallowing it down.” She clenched her fists. “But it doesn’t get clean. It doesn’t dry out. The blister just keeps oozing and oozing until all the discharge comes pouring out of your mouth, but even then it doesn’t stop. Because you can’t force it all down. You can’t just swallow and think it’s done. That’s not how anxiety works. It keeps coming, even when you thought it was gone, and it leaves behind this awful flavor of bitter bile. It’s acidic, too, you know? It melts your chest and stomach and makes you feel like you’re sinking in your own skin.” She looked up at Alcina, and her eyes were shiny and blank. “I taste fear, Mother.”

There was silence between them for just a moment. Bela wasn’t looking at Alcina anymore; she seemed to think the floor was very interesting at that moment. Alcina was still considering her daughter’s dark words, replaying them over and over again until the subtle taste of sour gall spread across her tongue. She swallowed it down and winced when it drooled over the back of her throat like rancid molasses.

“You did it, baby,” Alcina finally said, smiling despite her worry, despite the flavor of fear in her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bela just nodded. Though she was no longer having a panic attack, she didn’t seem any less upset. Alcina considered letting it go, especially after just having calmed her down, but if something was bothering her daughter so much that she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it too hard, she knew she couldn’t just leave it be. It could escalate into something much, much worse, and she knew damn well that Bela was willing to go to such extremes, if her explanation of fear and the way she kept looking at the fire wasn’t enough proof of that.

“Now,” Alcina saw Bela tense, but she plunged anyway. “I need you to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help.”

Bela shook her head with a strangled whimper.  “I can’t tell you.”

“Bela, I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you.”

Bela was quiet. Then, slowly, she dragged her gaze up to Alcina. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Bela. I would never hate you.”

Bela nodded. “Okay.” Her claws clenched into fists against the floorboards, knuckles shaking and turning white. She took several deep breaths before forcing out, “I-- I don’t-- I don’t like people like that. Like how I’m supposed to.”

Silence.

Tears flowed freely from Bela’s eyes and she choked on a sob. Her head hung in shame as her entire body quaked. The poor girl looked terrified, and the sight hit Alcina right in the heart--though she didn’t quite get it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

“No, no-- you don’t understand,” Bela’s breath was coming out thin and raspy again. She sat up straight, claws now knotted in her nightgown, tensing and pulling. “I don’t-- I don’t like people, Mama. The way other people do. The way everyone does. I’ve-- I’ve tried, but--” She cut herself off with a whimper, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Alcina asked. Trying to discern Bela’s vague words was like trying to discern Shakespearean. “Do you think you can explain it to me, hun? Like you did with the book and the fear. I want to help you.”

Bela sniffled, then nodded. “I-- I, umm-- I don’t feel anything towards people. Like-- like that. Romantically. And sexually.”

Finally, it dawned on Alcina.

“When I read those cheesy romance books Daniela likes, I don’t get the characters’ feelings at all. Just the thought of being in a relationship like that makes me so uncomfortable and I don’t know why, and that scares me, Mama.” Bela continued, her anguish oozing into every word she spoke. “I don’t like the thought of being tied down to someone like that, but it still feels like something has been stolen from me. That promise of a future with true love and marriage and a fairy tale ending that Daniela always talks about is gone, even though I still want it. Or, at least, I think I want it. I don’t know what I want.” She sniffled, looking miserable. “It’s the same for sexual stuff. When I come to scenes with sex in them in books, it makes my skin feel all weird, like severed hands are crawling all over my body. I get embarrassed and awkward and uneasy, and I don’t understand that, either. It just makes me feel so sick to my stomach.”

There was a pause. Bela was taking several shallow breaths and digging her claws into her legs, so Alcina reached out and took one of her hands, stroking her knuckles with her thumbs.

“Breathe, baby,” Alcina murmured. “Breathe.”

“I’ve-- I’ve tried to force myself to be like everyone else before,” Bela said unexpectedly.

Taken aback, Alcina said, “What?”

Bela swallowed thickly. “With-- with a maiden. You know how I am with them- too nice, too polite. I befriended one of them. We were kinda close. After a while, she started making moves on me. I knew what she wanted for so long, but I kept avoiding it because I was uncomfortable or scared. But then I had this revelation: maybe if I did this with her, I would finally feel something! I would be like everyone else! So I did. With her. And I didn’t like it.”

“Bela…”

“It hurt,” Bela whispered. “Like I was being scraped raw. Or my body was being turned inside out. I felt so sick. Humiliatingly, I started crying during it, but I don’t think she noticed. If she did, she didn’t stop. Not until she was finished. When she was, I threw up after she left. I was so sore.” Alcina squeezed her hand, and she sucked in a sharp breath, “But-- but I had to have liked it! I got, umm--” Her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, though Alcina didn’t blame her. Having to explain your sex life to your mother would be awkward for anyone. “I got…wet. And-- and that happens when you’re aroused! So-- so I do like sexual stuff!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Alcina sighed sadly.

Bela hunched her shoulders in. “R-right?”

“Honey, ‘getting wet’ doesn’t always mean you’re aroused,” Alcina said gently. “Simply viewing something erotic, like a naked woman, for example, could trigger this bodily response. It’s also a way for the vagina to lubricate itself to help dull the pain of penetration. You can be in a sexual situation and be wet, but not want to have sex. That’s completely normal and one hundred percent okay.” She lifted her hands to cup Bela’s cheeks. “Wetness is not an acceptable body language for consent. Who were you trying to convince: the maiden or yourself?”

Bela stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and damp, breath hitched in the back of her throat. Then, she began shaking her head, pulling her hair, and weeping, “No, no-- I wanted it, I wanted it-- I know I did. I’m normal, I’m normal--”

It was truly heartbreaking to see her child in such a way. Bela seemed downright devastated over her own sexuality, to the point where she thought she was disgusting and unnatural for something that was actually completely normal.

Taking her daughter’s hands to keep her from hurting herself, Alcina went to say something, but Bela cut her off, getting to the words first.

“What’s wrong with me?!” Bela cried. “Why-- why am I like this, Mama? Am I broken? Am I heartless? I-- I love you and Cassandra and Daniela! I love Uncle Karl and Uncle Moreau and Auntie Donna and Angie and the Duke! I love reading and animals and writing, but-- but when I-- when I try to-- when it comes to sex and romance, I--” She finally gave up and sobbed.

“Oh, Bela,” Alcina said sadly. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl…” She pulled Bela into her lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth to help comfort her. Her fingers gently ran through Bela’s messy hair. “Shh, shh… You aren’t broken or heartless, sweetheart. This is an okay thing to feel.”

“You-- you don’t think I’m wrong?”

Alcina’s heart twisted at the way Bela looked up at her to say that, her eyes holding so much sadness and pain. She tucked her daughter’s head back under her chin and tightened the embrace.

“Absolutely not. Do you think you are?”

Bela answered in a strangled whimper. Alcina couldn’t help but wonder what put such a thought in her daughter’s brain--though, this was Bela she was dealing with. her anxiety was a wild, bestial thing that made her worry about the most obscene things.

“Did you really think this would change anything?” Alcina asked. “That I could ever possibly love you any less?”

Bela shrugged weakly.

“I-I just…”

That deep shame from before seemed to return and Bela’s head dipped. Alcina felt like she was going to try and pull away, so she tightened the embrace and used one hand to lift the girl’s chin.

“Hey, hey,” Alcina murmured, brushing away fresh tears on Bela’s cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you, either. And if anyone says otherwise, tell me. I’ll eviscerate them.”

That got a tiny, watery giggle out of Bela.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Alcina went on. “Sex and romantic relationships… They aren’t for everyone. And that’s okay. It certainly doesn’t make you broken or heartless.”

“B-but--”

“Hun, look at me. Do I really look like someone who will judge you for being this way?”

Bela shrugged a little. Her little body seemed to have exhausted itself of all its efforts to argue.

Alcina rocked her gently, stroking her hair the way she knew she liked it. “How about I explain something to you, hm?”

Bela looked up at her blearily.

“Your love may not be arousing or romantic, but you want to know what it is like?”

“What?” Bela asked softly.

“Your love is warm and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket during a blizzard. It’s safe and reassuring. Your love is security and shelter. Your love is noticing all the little details, like my bushy hair because it’s late at night or your Uncle Karl’s finger twitching because he’s nervous at the meetings with Mother Miranda but is trying to hide it or Cassandra’s leg bouncing because she’s full of pent up, restless energy. Your love is knowing what makes each of us tick and doing everything in your power to make us feel better when we’re upset. Your love is like the first flower showing up in the snow as winter melts away and the beginning flickers of a tender flame and the gentle fluttering of bird wings.” Alcina let out a soft laugh. “I’m nowhere near as good at details as you are, my darling. But, most importantly, your love is normal and natural and what makes you you. And you shouldn’t have to try and change that for anyone, no matter what.”

Bela stared up at her in silenced awe, tears trickling down her cheeks. Alcina squeezed her reassuringly.

“I want you to know that I’ll always support you, okay?” Alcina said. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Bela nodded, hiccuping softly. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through tiny whimpers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bela,” Alcina said. She kissed the top of Bela’s head and purred to her softly. “My perfect, perfect girl.”