#i may be remembering wrong but aside from him shooting drift that one time as adaptus that's about it

[lord-squiggletits]

Lmao I just wrote a manifesto about IDW OP but now I'm in the mood to write one about Pharma and the dumb obsessive stalker ex trope too

Actually no wait I can do it in one sentence

Fellas is it obsessive stalker behavior to want revenge on your ex best friend for stealing your hands and then leaving you to die in a frozen wasteland without even bothering to look for your dead body to confirm you died (and he calls you a horrible person and a terrible Autobot while standing next to an ex-Decepticon who killed thousands)

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[danses-with-dogmeat]

a romanced hancock reacting to sole wanting him to be a father figure in synth shaun's life?

Thank you so much for the ask anon!

So, I couldn't decide if I wanted to do more of a drabble or headcanons, so I just did both! I thought this prompt was really sweet, I hope you enjoy!

You stood in your shared room at the top of the Old State House, before the man in the red coat, the man you loved, awaiting his answer to your proposal. Having just asked him the question that had been patiently waiting at the back of your mind since the day that Shaun had come back into your life.

"Oh sunshine..." Hancock's gravelly voice broke the silence that had followed your question, "I'm beyond flattered that'd you'd ask that. I mean, I love that kid to pieces, but... you really think a ghoulified, blood-soaked, mega-junkie like me is the best fit for the kid to look up to?" The ghoul gave a soft chuckle, but Sole could see his brow furrowed slightly with uncertainty. A rare sight, given his usual gusto.

"Hancock," you said, in an attempt to reassure him, "you're a hell of a lot more than that. And Shaun is crazy about you, the reason I brought this up now was because he asked me when he could start calling you 'dad'." Hancock's dark eyes widened at your words and it took him a moment to answer.

"He- he did? Man... It's not too often I find myself at a loss for words but, I mean, me, a dad? I never thought that would've been possible, given my eh... present condition," He brought his hands up to gesture at his whole body. Your eyes never left his, the only change in your expression being a small smile, encouraging him to respond to your earlier question. Hancock sighed, taking a few steps towards you.

"So I suppose the thing I'm trying to say here is, I'm not sure I'm qualified for the position you're offering me." Your shoulders slumped at his words, you couldn't help but think he'd have been more receptive to the idea of being Shaun's new father. He may not be perfect, but he's one hell of an upgrade from the synth child's last "father."

"Look sunshine," Hancock decided to break the silence again, noticing your disappointed expression, "you sure you want this? I don't really tend to think of myself as 'daddy material'." You cocked an eyebrow at him, despite the weight of the conversation, you found yourself unable to keep a suggestive smile from spreading across your lips at his choice of words.

"Hey now, aren't you supposed to be the responsible one in this outfit?" Hancock quipped, his crooked smile imitating your own as he took another step closer. Before he could reach for you, you brought your hands up and grabbed ahold of his shoulders, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"Look, John, I know you don't always see it this way," you looked him in the eye, willing your next words to sink in, "but you really are an outstanding role model. I mean, look at all you've done for the people of Goodneighbor, and the Commonwealth. You're out there actively trying to make this wasteland a better place, lending a hand to the little guy and doing all you can to take down the tyrants. You're a skilled leader who genuinely cares about the people you're responsible for, you're fiercely protective of the ones you love, and of the ideals that you support. You're a good man, John. And I couldn't think of anyone better for Shaun to call 'dad'."

"Shit sweetheart, you really know how to make a ghoul blush. Tell me, how did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?" He whispered softly, shaking his head slightly as he looked deep into your eyes. You couldn't help but blush at his comment and at his unrelenting smoky gaze, you looked down to break the tension for a moment.

"We're talking about you here, John, remember? So..." you trailed off, hoping to finally get a straight answer from him.

"So?" He asked.

"So, what do you say? You gonna make me ask you again, or what?"

"Look," he reached a ruined hand out to lightly take your own, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles, "you and that kid are the most important thing I've got going on in my life, and if you really want me around, then I'm not goin' anywhere. And for the first time in my life, I fucking mean it." He grasped your hand tightly, before you gently removed it from his own, instead bringing your arms up to pull him into a tight embrace, which Hancock happily leaned into, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

"Just one thing..." you said, finally pulling away, "we might have to work on that foul mouth of yours."

"Don't worry sweetheart, if we're doing this thing, we're gonna do it right. I'll teach the kid all he needs to know. The real creative foul language, how to cure a hangover, where to get the best chems. All that important shit." You rolled your eyes playfully, mirth shining behind your dilated pupils as you stared into the eyes of your son's new father.

"Now, about that foul mouth of mine..." his hand slunk around your waist and pulled you into him as a mischievous grin spread across his lips a moment before they met yours.

And now, a few headcanons, for your consideration:

- After agreeing to act as Shaun's father, Hancock would seriously clean up his act. He may occasionally still take chems and drink (cuz, let's face it, he's still Hancock, and quitting cold turkey is hardly an option) but much less than he used to, and never around Shaun. This is only partly because he doesn't want to bring Shaun into that part of his life, but also it has a lot to do with his decreasing dependency on self-medicating. Being genuinely happy with his family, he doesn't feel as though he needs to escape.

- He would continue to be mayor of Goodneighbor, but would leave many of the day-to-day decisions to a committee (composed of Daisy, Fahrenheit, Dr. Amari, and an elected security guard). While Hancock, Sole and Shaun would live at another (more kid-friendly) settlement of Sole's choice.

- Hancock would actually excel at teaching Shaun. Whether it would be a shooting lesson, showing Shaun how to cook, teaching him to fish, or telling him about pre-war history (usually with a good amount of focus on the American revolution given his own fascination with it), even if Hancock wasn't extraordinarily knowledgeable, he would do his absolute best at helping Shaun get some form of an education.

- Once Sole was able to convince Hancock that Shaun liked his voice, rough as it may be, he would love to do bedtime stories. Even though Shaun is probably just getting old enough to outgrow them, he has a particularly hard time getting to sleep, and he soon finds that the ghoul's low, calm voice is a surefire way to drift off when the sun goes down.

- Hancock would be one of those parents that always looks like they know what they're doing, he would be patient during Shaun's tantrums, would be very focused on communication, and would have a nice blend of being protective of Shaun, but not to the point that it would be stifling. That being said, he would remain awfully uncertain and need constant reassurance from Sole, seeking their advice on almost everything to do with Shaun. Inside, he would have trouble realizing he's as good of a father figure to Shaun as everyone says he is. However, outwardly, he would be as confident as ever. Even fooling Nick into believing that he was completely at ease in the role of being Shaun's dad.

- He'd be killer at all of the popular kid games, playing hide and seek with Shaun when they visited the Old State House, or playing tag back in sanctuary, or even imagination games where he had to be the deathclaw and Shaun got to be Grognak the barbarian (do deathclaws exist in the Grognak universe? It doesn't matter, they do to Shaun). Hancock normally wouldn't let anyone win, he believes in playing fair, but occasionally for Shaun, he'd hide in the obvious places, or trip when running away in tag, or let it slide that Shaun says Grognak is strong enough to punch a deathclaw's head clean off in one hit. (Man, if only he could do that.)

- If other kids were bullying Shaun, Hancock would be the type of parent to bring the bully aside and have a frighteningly quiet conversation. And by conversation, I mean an in-depth description of what Hancock will do to the kid if he's mean to Shaun again. (Think of that scene at the beginning of the first Jurassic Park movie where the main character is describing to a kid how a velociraptor guts its prey and eats it alive. That's Hancock. Both the man, and probably the velociraptor too if the bully doesn't heed his warning.) Hancock wouldn't necessarily kill the kid for being mean to Shaun, but it's because he wouldn't have to, after his 'discussion' with the kid, he'll never even look at Shaun the wrong way again. Thankfully, the 'discussion' is all Hancock's ever had to do when kiddos are involved.

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Creative planning

Word count: 2144     

Genre: I think a bit of angst mixed with fluff???

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader 

Warnings: Swearing but not much and in a friendly way (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: Can u do natasha x reader where natasha fall in love with the reader because they always have stupid atypical plans that always work. And at first none of the avengers believer that the plan will work but it actually work. That’s it!

Summary: Reader always has creative plans for missions that always work and Nat seems like she doesn’t like them except she actually does and is just bad at feelings.

A/n: So this was requested by @fayhar so I hope you like it but if I’m honest I didn’t follow the request exactly so I’m sorry about that, but I hope you like it anyways. Also sorry this is a few days later than I said but I procrastinated but I’m writing a lot now so hopefully all other requests will be out soon.

You glance around at the rest of the team, biting your lip when all you can see is frustrated faces. It’s your first time making a big suggestion and it is not going over nearly as well as you had hoped. You thought your plan was pretty solid, albeit weird, but the team doesn’t seem to agree. 

“We need a real plan, not the plot of some animated action movie meant for kids.” Tony says, his annoyance coming through with his voice. 

Clint shoots Tony a look and softly says, “Y/n, I know you’re trying to help but Tony is right, this doesn’t seem realistic.”

“I agree,” Natasha interjects, “anyone have any more viable plans?” The room is silent after that and you can tell everyone is thinking hard. You’re trying to help as well but your mind is consumed with doubt. Although it wasn’t the most conventional plan, you really thought it could work but they thought it childish. Clint was the nicest to you about it but that’s only because he saw you as a kid he had to protect. You loved being a part of the team but sometimes it was hard to prove yourself when you were both the youngest and newest avenger. You rack your brains trying to come up with a new plan but your mind keeps getting stuck on what you already came up with. It was different from what the team normally did for sure, but you just knew it could work. 

“I know you shot it down already but please consider what I’ve suggested,” you speak up, “it’s different but I think it will work. Besides it’s not like anyone else has any great ideas.” 

While they don’t seem to accept your plan right away this time they seem to give a little more thought. Wanda whispers something to Steve and you can see Natasha and Clint exchange looks. 

Finally Steve speaks up. “Y/n is right, maybe not about the plan but we don’t have any other ideas. I think this is our best change against Hydra for now.” 

“Hydra is a formidable enemy whose goal is to control the world and you expect us to follow a plan that is completely ridiculous.” Natasha argues harshly. You struggle not to let any emotion show because you knew you had to appear strong but what Natasha thinks means a lot to you, so it hurt she had absolutely no confidence in your plan. You have always admired her a lot and if you were to be truthful you’ve always had a little bit of a crush on her.

“This plan does seem a little out there,” Wanda interjects, “but maybe that’s what we need for this mission, Hydra won’t be able to predict it.” 

“Ok,” Tony agrees, “what the hell, let's do it.” 

Fifteen exhausting hours later and you were all on a jet heading back to the compound. Even though it had been one of the hardest and most tiring missions you had been on to date you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were the one that helped the team out. 

“Good job Y/n!” Steve praises seeing your grin so you smile back even harder and go to respond when you hear a scoff from the other side of the jet. Natasha is sitting there and although her face betrays nothing, everyone who heard knows it’s her. You don’t know why she hates your plan even though it worked but although it bothers you, you try to brush it off, as Steve squeezes your shoulder in silent support. Even when Natasha exits the jet and heads straight to her room without a word to anybody you manage to keep a smile while talking with a few of the other avengers before you get too exhausted and decide to call it a night. 

As you lie in your bed after you showered and were drifting off you think about the day. You understood the lack of confidence in your crazy plan at first but you finally feel like you proved yourself and showed why you were asked to join the avengers. You also question Natasha’s dismissal of your success but you can never tell what she’s thinking so you brush that aside and fall into a peaceful sleep, optimistic about what is to come. 

---

“Hey Y/n can you look over the plans for the next raid?” Tony asks, shoving some papers in your hands as you walk past him in the hall. 

“Of course!” You respond cheerfully, taking the papers and continuing to make your way into the common room. It had been around ten months since you had first helped create a plan and ever since then the other had been turning to you for help with stuff like this and you became known for coming up with the craziest ideas that always ended up working. 

When you got to the common room you plopped yourself on the couch and started brainstorming beside the only other occupant of the room, Natasha. Out of all the avengers you were still slightly wary of her. You admired her a lot (not to mention kinda wanted to kiss her) but although she didn’t seem to hate your plans as much as she first did she didn’t seem to like them either. You did your best to impress her especially when she would help train you but sometimes it got discouraging because she never seemed to care that much. She was also the only avenger you didn’t consider yourself friends with, which is why you were fairly surprised when she spoke up. 

“What are you working on?”

“I’m just reviewing the mission plans for our raid of the Hydra base in a few days, Tony did a pretty good job though, so I won’t change much.” You respond honestly. 

“None of your weird ideas?” She asks. 

“Probably not, don’t worry,” you say laughing slightly although you don’t feel like it, “I’m just going to see if Steve has any ideas, see you later.” You leave the room in a bit of a rush, making sure you have all the plans. Natasha watches you go with a frown. She can tell she offended you when she asked that but she was just meaning to tease because although she was skeptical at first, she now really loves your plans. 

While she unhappily stares into the hallway you left through, she feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around to see Clint hanging upside down from the vent. 

“What’s wrong Nat?” He asks. 

“Y/n thinks I hate her. Or at least that I think she’s stupid.”

Clint laughs. “Once she gets to know you I’m sure that will change. Remember how long it took for the others to warm up to you?”

“But I like her and I want her to like me now!” Natasha replies in a tone that has a small whine to it. 

“So you like her, no biggie,” Clint says, “eventually you’ll become friends. WAIT-do you mean you like her, like you want to date her?” Natasha doesn’t respond and instead just nods, looking away from Clint. 

“You know it may seem complicated but just be nice to her and give her compliments out loud instead of in your head.” Clint advises.

“You know I think that’s the only helpful thing you’ve ever told me,” Natasha jokes, wanting to change the topic, “when did you get so good at this?”

“Well I do have a wife after all,” Clint answers, “maybe you should trust me on this.”

The past month has been confusing to say the least. You brush your hair in the mirror, wanting to look presentable for when you were having dinner with Natasha later because she randomly asked you to. It isn’t a date or anything, in fact you don’t know why you’re doing this because all she said is that she wanted to talk to you, but the idea of eating dinner along with her makes you nervous. This was the first time the two of you were going to do something without any of the others. At first she didn’t seem to like you at all but recently you noticed a huge change in the way Natasha was acting towards you. She seemed to actively seek you out to spend time together and started complimenting you more, especially on your ideas relating to avengers missions. You take a glance at your watch and decide to head down to the kitchen to meet up with Nat. The whole way down you can feel your entire body almost shaking with nerves but you push it aside. 

“Hey Y/n,” Natasha says softly upon your entry, “I made us some pasta, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“I’ll never turn down pasta.” You respond while smiling and grabbing a plate. 

“Great,” she says, looking a little relieved, “Are you good to just eat at the counter?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I, I’m not the queen.” You answer her, laughing slightly. She mumbles something under her breath but you can’t hear it properly. 

“What was that Tasha?” You ask her. 

“Nothing.” You look down at your food and both of you lapse into silence. Neither of you speak for what feels like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes before you start to get a little annoyed. 

“Are you going to speak?” She stares at you and doesn’t answer. “Well are you? Because you said you wanted to talk to me but now that I’m here you don’t say anything. Not to mention I can’t even tell if you like me or not.” She seems surprised by your outburst but you can’t find it within yourself to care. It was all true you had no clue what she thought about you with her acting cold towards, then suddenly switching to being nice and as much as you liked her you would much rather just know what she thought than be constantly confused. 

“I do like you.” She says after a few moments of very awkward silence. “I just don’t know how to talk to you properly.”

“You didn’t know how to talk to me???” You ask, completely shocked. 

“Yes,” she replies honestly, “at first I just didn’t talk to you because I didn’t like you-”

“Ouch.” You interrupt and she rolls her eyes at you. 

“Anyways as I was saying,” she takes a pause to playfully glare at you, “the reason why I didn’t like you was because unlike everybody else you were unpredictable and I don’t like not being in control. You are just so different from people I’m used to-I mean this in a good way, like how you always have super creative plans.”

“Oh wow that’s not what I was expecting at all,” you tell her, “I just thought you hated me.” She nods looking remorseful. 

“Sorry, at the very start I may have but honestly that’s the last impression I wanted you to have of me. If you can’t tell recently I’ve been trying harder to be more open.”

“I have noticed actually and although I was a bit confused by the sudden change it was nice.” Natasha smiles at that and sits up a little taller before shrinking back down and biting her lip.

“For the sake of honesty, there was another reason I didn’t like you much,” she pauses to take a deep breath, “you made me feel things, things I can usually control.” You can’t believe what you are hearing right now and think you must be dreaming because unless you are interpreting things very wrongly it sounds like Natasha is confessing feelings for you. 

“Tasha,” you say slowly, “you have feelings for me?” She nods and you can’t even begin to process it. You must have been silent for too long because she stands up and starts to move away. 

“I’m sorry Y/n, we can drop it if you want just please say something.” 

“No, we are not dropping this,” you say seriously, watching Natasha’s face drop as you inwardly smirk, “at least not until you take me on a date first.” 

“You’re an asshole.” Natasha deadpans before coming over to hug you. “I will definitely take you on many dates.” 

She’s true to her word and two days later you find yourselves cuddled in your bed after having dinner at a restaurant. She’s spooning you, pressed up against your back and you can tell by her breathing that she’s almost asleep. 

“So you like my plans?” You ask cheekily, remembering your conversation from last night. 

“I love your plans,” She responds before planting a kiss to the top of your head that nearly makes your heart melt of happiness, “even if you are an asshole sometimes.”

[devildom-tyrant]

Hi, sorry to bother you if you've done this already, but I've read your drabble where MC is comforted after a nightmare by the brothers (Mammon, Beel, and Satan) and it just makes me so soft I love it so much I keep rereading it. So I was wondering if you could do another with Asmo and Levi (and possibly Lucifer)? Obviously no pressure or anything, I'm a writer myself and understand that inspiration can be fleeting at times. Anyways, thank you, have a nice day/night!! 💖

You wake up yet again, jolting from your rest with your heart pounding in your throat.  It takes you several panicked breaths to realize that you’re in your room, safe in your bed, and it was just another nightmare that jarred you from your slumber.  

The details are foggy, but you can still remember the laughter, and the feeling of someone hating you with every fiber of their being to the point that they wanted you dead, that they were thrilled that you were dying.

Your bed sheets are a tangled mess around your legs, and you hastily kick them off, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, while you blindly reach for your D.D.D. with the other.  The screen lights up, showing that it’s past 3AM, and you fight back a groan.  You’re exhausted, but you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep like this.  And if you show up to class half-asleep again, everyone’s just going to worry about you.

You switch on your bedside lamp and weigh your options, your gaze riveted to your D.D.D.  

Lucifer

Automatically, you scroll to Lucifer’s name.  At this hour, he’s likely to be asleep, though you know that his work usually keeps him up rather late.  If you texted him, he would likely be worried... After all, you rarely reach out to him for help, not wanting to burden him when he has enough on his plate with Diavolo.  

Several minutes pass with your screen pulled up to your text messages with Lucifer, before you finally suck in a deep breath and hastily type out: “Are you awake?”  Before your mind talks you out of it, you hit Send and then immediately panic.  You really don’t want to tell Lucifer about the nature of the nightmares, nor do you want to admit to them in the first place and skew his view of you.  

An R for Read pops up next to the text, followed by three dots to indicate his typing, and you mentally flip your shit.

“I am now.  Why are you awake?”

Shit, did you wake him up?  You chew on your bottom lip, and carefully type out your response.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.  I was just having trouble sleeping and wondered if you might be up, that’s all.”

You follow that text with a sticker that’s sweat-dropping and smiling apologetically to keep it light-hearted.  Lucifer texts back immediately:

“Oh?”

“Come to my room then.”

You hesitate at that, your heart pounding in your chest.  Did he just--?  Is he asking you to--?

“We can talk or listen to one of my records if that might help you.  Or I may have some tea that could help.”

Oh.  Your panic eases a bit, and you acquiescence, typing out an All right before rising to your feet and making your way to his bedroom.  You feel as if you’re sneaking through the house, and it almost makes you feel guilty; it’s too quiet when everyone’s asleep.  However, you make it to Lucifer’s room without incident, and he opens the door before you even knock.  His expression is neutral, until he catches a glimpse of your tired, haggard appearance, which brings a light frown to his features.

“You look like hell,” he bluntly states, moving aside to let you in.

“I’m in hell,” you shoot back, to which he chuckles.

“Essentially.  But that’s never stopped you from sleeping before.”

His tone is pointed, and you feel as if he knows exactly why you can’t sleep.  He’s always been sharp, usually one step ahead -- or so it seemed until recently.  Now, you know he’s not infallible, and he doesn’t know your every move.  He’s fishing, hoping you’ll take the bait and talk to him about it.  But as much as you’d like to, you’re also stubborn -- and so very tired.  It’s a talk for another time.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.  I thought you might be working late or something,” you admit, skirting the issue and taking a seat on the edge of his bed.  He quirks an eyebrow, but moves to sit at his desk.  

“Not this late on a school night.”

You can’t help but laugh, your thoughts a little more uncensored thanks to your lack of sleep.  “Sorry.  That sounded weird coming from you.”

“What?  It’s the truth.  Our little sleep study proved the importance of rest before classes, didn’t it?”  A smile plays at his lips at the thought of that, and the memory makes your cheeks heat up.  Suddenly, his bed feels huge, yet this room feels so small, drawing the two of you together.  You shouldn’t have come up here this late.  

“I--”  Part of you knows you should say that you can sleep now, that you’re fine, but you’re not.  “I wish I could sleep, but I’ve been... having nightmares, and they’re stupid, but I just...”

Your voice trails, and Lucifer moves from the chair to the bed in an instant, all traces of his teasing smile gone as he pulls you against his chest.  He doesn’t have to ask what they’re about; he knows.

He holds you in silence for a moment, while your heart hammers so hard, you know he can feels it.  Finally, his deep baritone murmurs, “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Your name comes out on his lips, and you feel your eyes watering, but you blink it away and shake your head.  “I’m okay.  I’m okay now.  Can we... lie down for a bit?”

The request comes out small, fearful of rejection, yet afraid of the acceptance as well.  Wordlessly, Lucifer lies back on the bed with you, his arms wound around you tight, one hand lightly trailing along your back.  You curl into him, burying your face in his chest (his heart’s beating quickly, too, some part of you registers), and slowly begin to drift asleep.

In your semi-consciousness, you realize Lucifer’s humming a melody you’ve never heard before, yet it makes you feel so safe.

Asmo

You know Asmo isn’t awake at this hour; he’s always told you that he needs plenty of beauty rest for his skin.  Still, you can’t help but click on his name, wishing that he was up so he could comfort you.  He’s so light-hearted, smiling and looping his arm through yours, and that casual intimacy has always put you at ease when you’re around him.  It makes it feel like you’ve known him forever. 

It’s that feeling that makes you type candidly, your thumb flying across the buttons.  

“I can’t sleep.”

If he doesn’t respond, then that’s fine; he’ll likely ask you about it tomorrow or give your tips to combat the bags that will surely be beneath your eyes.  To your surprise, however, an R pops up next to the message, followed closely by Asmo typing.  

“Then sleep with me, darling.”

That’s a dangerous double-meaning coming from the Avatar of Lust, but with your anxiety ramped up to an 11, you’re definitely not in the mood for that kind of distraction.  As you make your way out into the corridor and toward his room, you type out a clarification.  

“Just sleep, okay?  I had a nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off it.”

When Asmo opens his door, you give him a lop-sided grin.  “You perv.”

“On the contrary, darling, what I said was completely innocent.  Check the chat log.  If you took it wrong, well... then, I must be rubbing off on you.”  Asmo smirks, automatically looping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.  To his credit, he’s never groped you (without implicit permission), so you’ve always felt at complete ease with his physical affection.  

“You’ve definitely been a bad influence,” you joke, not that your mind wasn’t dirty before you came to the Devildom.  “But I’m really tired.  I wanna be able to sleep.”

“Of course.  But you’re so tense!  Here, lie down on the bed and let me loosen you up.”  There’s a dirty joke on both of your tongues, but you’re too drained to make it, and he’s trying to be on his best behavior.  You comply, however, plopping down face-first onto his luxurious bed, while he sits beside you and begins rubbing the tension from your shoulders.  Asmo knows what he’s doing when it comes to massages, and his bed has a heavy floral scent, likely from the lotions and perfumes he uses often.  It’s so relaxing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, surprisingly energized for this time of night.  It’s obvious that you woke him up, but strangely enough, he isn’t complaining about the interruption to his beauty sleep.

“Not really.”  You’re starting to feel guilty about keeping him up.  “Hey, I think I’m good on the massage.  Do you mind... cuddling?”

His hands still on your shoulder blades.  “You don’t have to ask me twice.  I always want to cuddle with you!”  Grinning excitedly, he climbs beneath the covers beside you, and wraps you up in his arms.  He’s so warm, and you feel so at ease, surrounded by his soothing scent.  You wind your arms around his slender frame, and he grins, pulling you in tighter, facing one another.  

“You’re such a cute human.  You sounded embarrassed to ask just then.”

Your face flushes.  “Shuddup.  I just want you to get your beauty sleep,” you mutter, which only causes him to hug you tighter.

“Aww, you were worried about me?  You’re so sweet!  I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, silly.”  His hand trails along your back, just barely beneath your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours.  He tucks your head beneath his chin, but you can tell from his voice that he’s still grinning broadly.  “Just relax and fall asleep with me.  You won’t have a nightmare as long as I’m holding you.”

Asmo rocks you gently, until your abashment fades and you feel yourself succumbing to sleep at last.

He’s right.  

You don’t have another nightmare that night.  

Levi

If there’s someone you know is going to be awake and gaming at 3AM, it’s definitely Levi.  You click on his name, and type out a quick text:  “I can’t sleep.  Do you wanna come to my room and binge something?”

He reads the text within seconds and starts typing, just as you anticipated.  

“Raiding.  Come to my room instead?”

Even if you can’t sleep, you want to.  You want the company, a distraction, some comfort.  You would go to his room -- you’ve pulled plenty of all-nighters there, but... that’s what they were.  All-nighters.  His bed is literally a bathtub, and the one time you decided to take a nap in it, your neck had a wicked cramp in it for days. 

“I’m tired, though.  I was hoping we could watch it in bed and maybe fall asleep halfway through?”

This time, he reads it and doesn’t reply right away.  You see the three dots start and stop, and you’re not sure if he’s at a pivotal point in the raid, or if he’s too flustered by your invitation to properly respond.  Levi’s stayed in your room plenty of times, but he’s usually camped out with pillows in the floor, and if you happen to drift off, he keeps telling you random trivia about the show and shaking your leg until you make a noise that you heard him.  You’ve never fallen asleep with him.  

Your D.D.D. finally chimes with a notification.

“Did you send this to the right person??”

“Yes, Levi.”

“Oh.  Then you meant you want me to stay until you fall asleep.  For a second, I thought you meant sleep with you in your bed lolol.

Okay, after the raid.”

You know it’s just Levi being Levi and assuming you don’t feel that way about him, but with all the nervous energy you still have over the nightmare, you can’t help but feel your eyes water.  As childish as it sounds, you just want him to hold you so you can feel like everything’s okay.  You know you need to spell it out, but you leave his message on Read and pull the covers up to your chin, closing your eyes.  

... It’s too restrictive.  You kick at the covers and pick up your phone again, but... you can’t bring yourself to send another text, begging him to hurry.  You can always go to his room; the invitation stands.  Instead, you waste your time weighing your options, becoming more anxious, and ultimately, getting up to pace around your room.  

 About fifteen minutes pass before you hear a knock at your door, but it feels as if it’s been an eternity.  “It’s open,” you say, loud enough for him to hear, and Levi steps inside with a box set tucked beneath his arm.  

“Okay, I brought I Accidentally Became a Magical Girl, but the Transformation Sequence Takes So Long that the Villains Keep Attacking Me Halfway Through, and I Keep Losing but at Least I Get a Rose for Trying.  It got really good reviews, and I know you said you wanted to see more comedy anime.”  He smiles with such sincerity that you can’t help but feel guilty over tearing up a little earlier.  Just being around him makes you feel more at ease.  

“Thanks Levi, that sounds great.  Pop it in, and let’s give it a go.”  You smile doesn’t quite meet your gaze, and even though he’s a shut-in, it doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re acting different.  He pauses, but then shakes it off and starts setting it up, while you sit down on your bed.  As the first episode starts, he sits down beside you on the edge of the bed, while you’re sitting with your back against your pillows.  He starts telling you trivia about the animation studio and apparently, how the manga is actually more ecchi than the anime.  “OHHH, but I didn’t mean that I brought an ecchi anime for us to watch!  I mean, it’s sure to have some fanservice, but... but that’s just to be expected, right?  I wasn’t trying to be -- to be an Asmo or anything, I just thought you’d like it because it’s, uh, it’s supposed to be funny, and I--”

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his shoulder, cutting off his flustered explanation.  “You know I don’t mind that, Levi,” you assure him, before reaching out and grasping his sleeve.  He’s tense; even though you can’t see his face, you know it’s bright red, and you can feel the weight of his stare.  “I’d love to watch it with you.  I just... Will you lie down with me while we watch it?”

“L-l-lie down with you?!  Just-- just like that?!  Is this a joke?  Is this some kind of weird normie--?”

He breaks off as you finally raise your head to meet his gaze.  Levi can tell something’s amiss; he isn’t oblivious, he just lacks self-confidence.  He softly says your name.  “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I had a nightmare.  About, well... what happened back then.  In the foyer.  When... Belphie, uh...”

“Oh.”  He slides an arm around you, pulling you closer against his shoulder.  You feel so weak admitting that, but Levi isn’t judgmental; he just offers you the comfort you so desperately wanted from him.  “I didn’t know.  I thought you were just awake because you drank too much coffee or were bored or something.  If... If it’ll make you feel better, ye-yeah, I... I’ll lie down with you.  If you really want me to!”

He’s still flustered, but he doesn’t think you’re joking anymore, so you smile and nod against his shoulder.  “I’d really like that, Levi.  Thank you.”

His face turns even brighter.  “Y-yeah, no problem!”  

Levi slides under the covers after you straighten them out, and you settle in beside him.  His back’s up against the pillows now, so you snuggle into his side until he lifts his arm and gingerly puts it around you.  Your cheek settles on his chest, and he audibly gulps, but doesn’t move.  

Halfway into the episode, he starts pointing out the manga differences again, and you both laugh along with the gags and tropes throughout the show.  Levi becomes more comfortable and trails his fingers along your back, and you throw one of your legs over his, cuddling closer.  He keeps talking, this eccentric, passionate part of his personality being something you absolutely love about him, and the low murmur of his voice lulls you into a peaceful sleep.  

[halstudandruz]

Watch My Lips (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Antonio steps up to teach the reader a few things

Warnings: Smut (18+), swearing

A/N: I took a small page out of the Peter and Gabby book (I really miss Mills) anyway I don’t in any shape or form speak Spanish so blame google translate if anything is wrong, what they’re saying will be in English in parenthesis after just in case.

“Dawson, we need you.” Hailey yelled coming out from the back. Looking up from his desk he gave Jay a questioning look, “he only speaks Spanish.” Upton explained. Antonio nodded closing his file before locking his gun up and following her back. You contemplated between continuing to work or going to watch your partner question the suspect for a few seconds before giving into yourself. Against your better judgment you saved your file on your computer getting up to walk back as well. Kim catching your arm as you passed her desk amused smirk covering her face,

“What?” You asked.

“Where are you going?” She wondered.

“Just going to watch.” You shrugged making her smile grow wider,

“And is there any particular reason you’re going to stand back there and listen to people talk in a language you don’t understand?” She raised an eyebrow at you making your face blush a deep shade of red shifting on your feet,

“Shut up!” You begged looking around to make sure nobody was watching, making her laugh loudly.

“Hey I ain’t here to judge just here to enjoy the show.” She winked, turning back to her computer. Sighing loudly you shoved her in the arm taking the steps to head back to the room opposite of Antonio.

So, Kim may have been your best friend and might have known about your crush on Antonio. Of course taking any opportunity to tease you about them as if she wasn’t doing the same things with Ruzek. Antonio was hot any day of the week, but add on him speaking a different language, being able to watch the way it rolls off his tongue, and the confidence he has while doing it, had you sweating, heat rising in your body.

“Hey.” Jay spoke coming up behind you, making you jump a mile as he laughed out loud. “Looking a little flustered there [Y/L/N].” He smirked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Halstead.” You huffed.

“Yeah, okay. You keep telling yourself that. You might want to pull yourself together before Voight comes in though.” Jay winked, an accusing smile on his face.

————

You were a little zoned out heading back to the district later in the day. Antonio was talking your ear off, but your mind kept drifting. You were normally really good at keeping your thoughts and feelings at bay, but looking at him today for some reason caused a wetness to pool between your thighs. Could’ve been his new haircut, could’ve been the way his jeans fit him just right, or maybe the v-neck he was supporting that day because damn you weren’t sure how his arms even fit in it to be honest fighting the urge to reach out and squeeze them.

“Earth to [Y/N]?” Antonio cleared his throat making your eyes shoot up to meet his face immediately turning red.

“Yeah? Sorry what were you saying?” You swallowed, turning to look away from him.

“I’m just saying someone is going to have to learn Spanish before I retire.” Antonio pointed out.

“Yeah cause lord knows that’ll be sooner rather than later.” You teased, stealing a glance as his eyes focused on the road.

“Haha, very funny.” He shook his head hiding a chuckle, “I think you’re going to have to be the one to step up though,” he continued making you laugh,

“Yeah let’s pretend that would happen.” You rolled your eyes, but the smirk on his face never left making you suspect he wasn’t joking, “Antonio, no. I’m not taking a Spanish class.” You crossed your arms against your chest.

“You don’t have to, I'll teach you.” He shrugged, putting the car into park after reaching the district’s parking lot.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to hire someone who speaks Spanish?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Probably. This will be more fun though. Come over to my place at 7. I’ll even make you dinner.” He smiled getting out of the car.

“Antonio! I don’t-“ You started to protest before he closed his door cutting you off and heading back into the district without you. Sighing you followed him knowing it was going to be a long night ahead of you.

——————

“This is so a date.” Kim giggled helping you with your makeup.

“It is not!” You retorted for the thousandth time.

“No? Then why are you so concerned about how you look?” She questioned.

“Maybe cause I never get to look nice and for once I’d like to take advantage of it.” You shrugged knowing deep down she could see through you.

“Sure. Okay. We’ll go with that.” She nodded an obvious smirk on her face. “You’ll tell me how he is thought, right?” She continued after a few minutes, making you groan, covering your face with your hands.

—————-

Walking up to Antonio’s door your heart was in your throat. This was nothing new, being at Antonio’s house. He was your partner and you were together regularly even outside the job, but knowing you were going to have to listen to him talk to you in Spanish all night while simultaneously keeping your composure already had your knees weak and your head doubting yourself.

Dinner was good. He had always been a good cook and you enjoyed watching him. You had talked mostly about work which wasn’t a surprise. Eva and Diego coming up frequently too as they were his pride and joy. Which you admired even more. You loved watching him with them even on the bad days the love you could see in his eyes was more than any words he could ever string together and that had you falling even deeper every time.

You were now seated on his couch nursing a glass of wine as he sipped a bottle of beer. Seated just close enough to him that your knee would slightly bump against his every so often.

“You know it’s really not that hard.” He teased.

“It’s your first language! I’d say the same thing about English.” You retorted.

“Do you know anything?” He chuckled, resting his arm against the back of the couch which caused his hand to land against your shoulder. Taking a deep breath you tried your best to ignore it before answering,

“Uh no not really. Just the real basic stuff we have to know. I didn’t even take it in high school. I took French.” You shrugged while taking a drink.

“Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” He asked, amused.

“I don’t remember any of that either anyway.” You chuckled. It started off simple naming things around his house. Following his lead.

An hour later your body was starting to heat up from the wine and listening to Antonio’s hidden accent come out even more prominently had a certain impact as well. So, whenever he started rolling his r’s you could hardly contain yourself wondering what it’d feel like against your own tongue.

“Come on try it again.” He laughed setting another empty beer bottle aside.

“Tonio, I can’t.” You whined setting your almost empty glass on the coffee table next to you.

“One more time. For me?” He smiled brightly at you as you huffed giving in. “Just start slow. Por favor (please).” He repeated and you could swear you heard a whine slip through your own mouth, breath starting to get heavier as you listened to his smooth words flawlessly falling out of his mouth. Taking a deep breath you tried again,

“Por favor.” But it ended as ungraceful and clunky as all the other times, making Antonio laugh loudly. “It’s not funny! I told you I couldn’t do this.” You frowned laying your hand on his knee.

“Alright just watch my lips.” He tapped his mouth, and he didn’t have to tell you twice. As if you hadn’t been already. Nodding you chewed at your bottom lip, inching just a little closer unintentionally. “Por fa-“ he started your lips cutting him off without a second thought. You didn’t remember leaning in, you didn’t remember your mind telling you to do it, but now your lips were tangled with his, hands fisted into his shirt. Antonio didn’t move, didn’t react to your lips on his. Which had you pulling back, your mind catching up to what you were doing.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” You begin to apologize, backing away from him, going to stand up in a rush, panic beginning to set in as you realized what you did. Before he grabbed your wrist pulling you back down to him, but this time closer.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Am I sure about being sorry? Yes, I di-“ But he cut in.

“I don’t believe you.” He smirked one hand landing on your waist, the other on your neck. You gulped not saying anything making him smile and lean into you this time. You gladly welcomed the feeling of his lips on yours again this time relaxing into it. Noticing how he smelled even better this close, how soft his lips were, and how smooth his hair felt as you threaded your fingers through it pulling him impossibly close. He picked you up, sliding you into his lap effortlessly. Pulling back to get a breath before moving to your neck.

“Antonio. Are y-oh,” you moaned feeling him nip behind your ear trying to compose yourself as you continued, hands grasping at sleeves of his shirt, “are you sure about this?” You eventually got out between a few deep breaths and whines. Antonio kissed your shoulder gently before leaning back to look at you, hands resting on your hips.

“Completely. Are you?” He answered.

“If you think you can keep up, old man.” You teased. Laughing he pulled you back to him, tongue immediately sneaking into your mouth, beer taste still existent, but you couldn’t have cared less, hands slipping under his shirt to feel his stomach and you were pleasantly surprised at the hardness. Curious now to see what was underneath up close you tugged at his shirt breaking to pull it over his head when he lifted his arms. Throwing it to the side, hands returning to his abdomen to admire his broad shoulders and perfect chest. “Oh hell yes.” You gaped causing him to chuckle below you.

“What are you thinking?” He asked as you traced your fingers over his scars, leaning down to answer,

“Lots of bad, bad things.” You replied nipping at his ear lobe which earned you a growl from grinding against him at the same time. He moved to pull your tank top off leaning down to leave gentle kisses across the neckline of your bra once it was tossed to the floor. Slowly unclipping it behind you and letting it fall between the two of you. Watching his eyes roam over your body had you immediately self conscious which he sensed.

“Hermosa.” He whispered, hands moving up your body.

“What’s that mean?” You asked.

“Beautiful.” He smiled, taking your breasts into his hands, moving his thumbs over your nipples as you sighed loudly. Closing your eyes tight when his mouth attached to one. Trying to keep from making too many sounds so early on you bit your lip feeling his fingertips digging into your hips encouraging you to move against him again. Gladly you moved your hips teasingly slow against the stiff cock pushing evidently against his jeans earning you a hard bite on your chest that without a doubt would leave a mark. “You want to tease now?” He looked up at you, cockiness in his voice, lips swollen from yours. Lip still trapped between your teeth you nodding looking down at him to see the lust in his eyes grow by the second. “You know I’m not stupid, right?” He chuckled moving to unbutton your jeans, “I could feel your eyes on me all day baby. Even in the two-way glass. I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were watching me.” He leaned up to kiss you reaching his hands under your thighs to pick you up and move you to his bed. Laying you down gently when he reached the edge, “Admit it, [Y/N]. Tell me I’m not wrong.” He pushed one hand holding himself up as the other cupped your face looking down at you.

“You’re not wrong.” You admitted flattening your palms against his chest and slowly moving them down. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you no matter how hard I tried.” You swallowed hard one hand moving to cup him and push against his jeans making him gasp eyes closing tight for a second as he pushed against your hand.

“I wanted to take you in that car today. So bad. Feeling your eyes all over me. Trying to be inconspicuous. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, [Y/N].” He confessed rubbing a thumb against your cheek staring hard at you.

“Me too.” You agreed smiling up at him.

“That’s all I needed.” He smiled back giving you a quick kiss before leaning up to slide your jeans and panties down your legs, humming in satisfaction when he leaned up to look over you, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined every night.” He winked, kneeling down landing on his knees before pulling you closer to the edge of the bed moving your legs so they rested on his shoulders. He kissed from your ankle to the top of your thigh before stopping and moving to the other leg leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks along the way of each. No doubt purposely avoiding where you needed him most. You could feel yourself growing wetter every second at the anticipation, starting to drip onto your thighs absolutely in awe at the sight of a shirtless Antonio in between your legs.

“Antonio...come on, please.” You whined wiggling closer to his face and feeling the huff of his laugh hit your core causing you to buck your hips unintentionally.

“That’s not what I taught you.” He teased leaving tiny kisses closer and closer to your center.

“Baby..” You huffed running your fingers against his hair.

“Just like I taught you, princesa (princess) and I’ll make you feel so good. I promise.” He bargained moving his hands to hold your hips down.

“Antonio...” you cried before seeing he wasn’t gonna give in sighing you tried, “Por favor.” coming out better than before but still not perfect.

“Good girl. I don’t think you’ve ever been sexier.” He winked before moving his mouth to connect with your core, a moan immediately escaping you as your head fell back. If you thought he was good with his tongue before you had absolutely no idea. It took mere minutes for you to be a moaning mess shoving his face deeper into you and thank god he had your hips pinned down or the man wouldn’t have been able to breathe.

“Yes baby that feels fucking incredible.” You croaked. Your head was swimming as his tongue covered every inch of your pussy in the most amazing way possible. Summoning all of your strength to push him away seconds before you came. You watched as he backed away using his shoulder to wipe his mouth off leaving it glistening as he came back to his feet. Leaning down again to kiss you,

“Sorry I was too close.” You apologized once you broke apart.

“That was the goal.” He joked kissing your cheek and standing back up to undo his belt stepping out of his jeans and boxers and kicking them to the side. Whistling you moved up the bed some pulling him back down on top of you catching him by surprise.

“Ugh. Careful love.” He laughed adjusting himself.

“What? Am I gonna hurt you or something?” You teased moving your hand down to wrap around his shaft. Pleasantly surprised to find how thick it was in your hand.

“Yeah you wish.” He groaned when you started moving your hand. “Fuck.” He cursed.

“What?” You asked.

“I don’t have condoms.” He sighed, closing his eyes as you started to speed up your hand.

“What? You didn’t plan for this?” You joked.

“Maybe in my dreams.” He smirked thrusting into your palm.

“I’m on birth control. So as long as you're clean...” You trailed off letting go of him to lick the precum that had leaked out onto your hand.

“Of course I am.” He looked down at you in disbelief.

“Hey, shit happens.” You shrugged.

“You think the hottest detective in the city wouldn’t be a little careful about who they jump into bed with?” He joked.

“Well you know Halstead isn’t always the brightest.” You shot back.

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes. You shrugged, grabbing ahold of him again and guiding him to your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer., shivering at the feel of his cock rubbing against your clit for the first time. Using the tip of his cock to your advantage you moved it through the lips of your pussy adoring the way his dick slid perfectly between them, mouth parted soft sighs escaping every time the head brushed against your clit. Enjoying every second before you had enough of your own teasing moving your hips up to let him slide in, “Tell me one more time.” He looked down at you nervously.

“I want you, Antonio.” You reassured him. Sighing in relief his palms landed on each side of your face before he started to push himself in. Breathing through the slight sting your nails dug into his back pulling him closer. Enjoying the pain more than you ever had in your life. Each inch clenching him even deeper. He wanted nothing more than to thrust into you as hard as he could but he talked himself through his impulses stopping every few seconds for you to adjust until he finally bottomed out. Breaths heaving in your ear. He started slow obviously trying to keep his control, only pulling out slightly before pushing in. Just worried about loosening you up first or he was going to lose it before it even started, but as you started to feel the pleasure taking over it started to get agonizing, never having felt so full in your life, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You had never been so happy to be on birth control giving you the ability to feel every throb, every twitch, every inch of his dick inside of you and that thought had you moaning out loud.

“Oh my god, baby.” He groaned against your neck at the sound and feeling of you.

“Come on handsome. I’m ready. Give it to me.” You encouraged holding his face in your hands. He moaned louder at your words, closing his eyes to avoid looking at you as he started to move faster and with each thrust the more you both lost yourselves in each other. In no time Antonio rested one of your legs on his shoulder giving him even deeper access than you ever thought possible, filling you to the absolute brim. His groans and sounds from his thighs hitting yours filled the room with each thrust making it even hotter. Shuddering his hips forward caused you to scream, hitting your sweet spot dead on. With his free hand he captured your wrists holding them tight above your head. You couldn’t believe the pleasure that was coursing through you was even possible before he leaned down capturing a nipple in his mouth and you swore you blacked out for a second screaming Antonio’s name. “Nobody has ever fucked me like this baby. You’re mouth, your tongue, your cock my god. You love making me scream from it all don’t you?” You got out between a series of moans. Antonio couldn’t answer you fully only able to get out a loud,

“Fuck, [Y/N].” You could tell he was close. From his sloppy thrusts and his moans to his cock starting to throb in you. You were close too right on the edge ready to fall any second. Moving your eyes up from where you two were connected up his body that was glistening from sweat rolling down from his chest, to his face where his mouth hung open groans and curse words flowing from it without shame and when you met his own eyes completely full of lust staring down at you that was the end. Stars clouding your vision as your eyes closed tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream, hips bucking up, and thighs tightening around different spots of Antonio. You came back just in time to feel Antonio’s cock twitch, his body stiffening, nails digging into your wrists, and head falling into your shoulder muffling a moan that would’ve been sure to wake up the whole neighborhood as he spilled himself into you completely. Eventually the room was silent besides your heavy breaths. Antonio eventually pulling out slowly and rolling off you. No words were spoken or movements made for a few minutes until you decided to break the silence.

“Every night huh?” You smirked turning on your side towards him making him chuckle.

“Maybe not every night.” He smiled pulling you to his chest.

“But close to?” You continued.

“Damn near.” He kissed the top of your head.

“I might have to send you some material then.” You looked up at him wiggling your eyebrows.

“Cannot say I’d be opposed to that.” He kissed you gently before standing up and walking into his bathroom carrying a cloth and water with him when he returned handing you the glass and nudging your legs apart to clean you.

“Well aren’t you a gentleman.” You took a drink before setting it on the night stand.

“I made the mess might as well clean it up I guess.” He shrugged kissing the inside of your knee as he did, before laying back down beside you gladly letting you cuddle back into him.

“You know that was like really incredible right?” You laughed looking up at him.

“Yeah? Not so bad for an old man huh?” He smirked.

“Yeah...young enough for round 2 yet?” You joked kissing at his chest squeezing his biceps.

“Only one way to find out I guess.” He lifted you back into his lap pulling you towards his lips. Later that night you would be sure to send Kim plenty of thumbs-up emojis (and maybe a few eggplants.)

[nightshade-minho]

Nightmare (2)

Warnings: male masturbation, mentions of smut etc.

Note: Nvm what I said before, this is definitely gonna have more than 3 parts lmao.

Part 1 | Part 3

When you woke up, you felt yourself wrapped in a warm embrace. Confused, you turned slightly to see Minho’s sleeping visage. You almost squealed before shutting yourself up with one hand, as Minho’s entire body was pressed up against yours...and that meant you could feel something hard poke against your ass. You tried to move, but Minho’s hands were firmly wrapped around your waist in a death grip. Your shifting only made him pull you closer in his sleep, his morning wood poking deeper into your panties.

“M-Minho...? It’s time to wake up now.” You said, as you used your free hand to poke him. You were answered with a grumpy, half-asleep mumble, and then suddenly you were turned around, your face pressed into his bare chest. A blush spread across your cheeks- his skin was soft and you could smell his signature scent.

“Minhoooo.” You whined, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but the man was way stronger than you, and kept you in place. You sighed, giving up and resting your head against him.

You couldn’t deny how secure and comfortable you felt, lying in his arms like this. However the bittersweet knowledge that once he woke up, he’d probably shoot away from you filled your mind, which was a sobering thought.

So he did come back last night after all. Was it after they had sex or did he not have sex at all? You expelled the thoughts, choosing to close your eyes again, cherishing the moment. You felt so safe and warm.

There was probably an alternate universe in which you would wake you Minho up with a kiss...a world in which you were together. However in this reality, Minho was an asshole with priorities that mattered over you. The anger from yesterday night seeped back into you.

So you summoned all your strength to pry his hands away, prompting a whine from him. You slid off the bed before he could pull you back into his arms. You sat on the floor for a while, before slowly getting to your knees and peering over the bed. Minho had turned around, his back now facing you and his snores louder than ever. You let out a phew, and made your way to the kitchen to make breakfast.

•••

Meanwhile, Minho’s eyes shot open just as he heard you close the door behind you. He sighed and sat up on the bed. He hadn’t wanted you to know he was awake, and was consciously holding you close to him. He scrunched his eyes shut as he turned to the side and pressed his face to the pillow, groaning. What was he doing?

He sat up and pushed the sheets off of him, sighing when he noticed his morning wood. He could also smell the scent of your body wash lingering- the smell of clean lemon flowers permeating the air.

Getting up, he headed for the shower so he could clean up and take care of his pesky little situation.

Naked, he leaned against the shower wall, taking his cock in his hand and stroking it slowly. He sifted through his mental library for something worth jerking off to.

The blonde he met at the laundromat last Sunday? Nah. He recalled how annoying her voice was when he had asked her for her number. Perhaps the brunette in his psych class? Ugh, no. Maybe he should think of some porn scene that had turned him on...? No luck.

Minho’s mind automatically drifted to last night, when he saw you spread out like that on his bed, wearing his shirt and with your ass on full display.

No. He slapped himself with his free hand. There was no way he was gonna get off to the thought of you. It was bad enough that he’d had some mature thoughts about you the night before...masturbating to you would have devastating consequences for his conscience.

But he couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to conjure some other sexy image, you stayed stubbornly.

Minho almost screamed with how much his cock was begging him to give up already. Finally he gave in, his head slamming against the shower wall as he pumped his dick hard, imagining up a situation where you woke up as he was pressed against you...letting him slide your panties to the side and slip his cock in to your tight, wet heat.

When he finally came, harder than he’d ever cum before...he thought about what he had just done. He felt filthy. What would you think of him, if you knew? He was too embarrassed to even think of looking at your face now. He uncomfortably recalled how he’d referred to you as his little sister during middle school. That phase was over, but it still disturbed him to think about how he’d just gotten off to someone who he cared about that much.

Minho stepped out of the shower. He dried himself off, found some clothes and his bag, and made his way to the living room. You were standing in the open kitchen, stirring something in a pan. He noticed how you’d pulled on some shorts, but was still wearing his shirt.

You heard his footsteps and whipped around. He made brief eye contact before quickly walking to the door.

“Wait, Minho...don’t you want some breakfast?”

He rolled his eyes, and didn’t reply.

With that, he slammed the door behind him, leaving you confused and hurt.

You felt tears prickling the corners of your eyes. Was he mad at you because you slept in his bed yesterday?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that you were too exhausted for this. You had classes to attend, too. So you turned your attention back to the stove, driving Minho away from your mind and giving him a backseat in your brain.

•••

As Minho made his way through campus that evening to get back home, his mind was filled about how he shouldn’t have acted that way in the morning. It wasn’t your fault that he’d been such a pervert, after all. He practiced his apology as he walked...but then he caught a flash of red hair in the distance.

Fuck. It was the redhead from yesterday.

She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms.

“What the fuck was that all about, Minho? You were the one who came onto me, and then you ditch at the last second? It was so fucking humiliating. People saw you rushing to leave the party right after you entered the room with me.”

She looked really angry. Minho wasn’t used to the girls he screwed over being this mad; most of them were already well aware of his reputation.

“Look, Rita, I’m sorry okay? Something came up. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You asshole, it’s Rina. And don’t think I’ll let this by so easily.” She smirked, and Minho raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just that my father is the Chief of Police. And if I were to tell him that you were running around molesting girls...I’m pretty sure he’d believe me. Especially because there are tons of girls you’ve wronged that would love to back me up.”

Minho’s mind was swimming. This couldn’t be happening, not today. He couldn’t think of anything to say, his breath catching in his throat. Rina’s smirk grew wider, watching as he started sweating.

Then, an idea popped into his head.

“I’m dating someone!” He blurted.

Rina’s smirk dropped off her face. “W-What?”

“I mean...we got together recently, though I’ve been crushing on her for a while. And...since I’m such a playboy, I kinda forgot I’m supposed to not fuck other girls anymore, haha...I’m really really sorry.”

Rina faltered. “I...you have a girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“You, the Lee Minho...has a girlfriend.”

He nodded tightly. “I’m sorry for all the inconvenience I caused, but I couldn’t cheat on her...I hope you understand.”

Rina looked skeptical. “Fine. Hey, I’m throwing a party next Saturday. How about you come with your ‘girlfriend’, hmm? I’d love to meet her.”

Minho wiped away some sweat as he nodded. “Yeah, totally...she’d love to come.”

Rina smiled. “Great!”

•••

When you heard the door open, you made it a point to avoid looking at him, your eyes trained on the TV.

“Hey.”

You heard the whisper behind you, but elected to ignore it.

Minho plopped down next to you, holding out a paper bag. “I got you macarons.”

You whipped your head around at that, your eyes lighting up. He put the bag in your hand, watching as you opened it excitedly, taking a bite out of one macaron. Your face contorted with ecstasy as you moaned. Minho chuckled.

“I don’t think I wanna witness you having sex with a macaron, so I’m gonna ask you now...am I forgiven?”

“For what?”

“For being late to our Movie Night yesterday...and also my rude behavior in the morning.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I forgive you. But only because of these.” You pointed to the bag and he laughed, then remembered why he went to the store to get you the sweets in the first place.

“Um...there’s a favour I’d like to ask of you...”

You turned around to face him, cheeks stuffed with the dessert. He held in his laughter- you looked like a chipmunk.

“Ugh, this is serious, okay? Stop being so goofy, you doofus.”

You swallowed what was in your mouth. “Sorry. Continue?”

He inhaled deeply. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a week.”

You sat there, stunned.

“W...what? Why?”

“Well...there’s this girl I didn’t fuck last night. And...she’s pretty pissed at me. So I may or may not have told her that I have a girlfriend...”

You shook your head. “And you’re asking me to do this because...?”

“Because you’re my only female friend?”

You let out a huge sigh, setting the bag on the table. “So these weren’t just an apology, they’re a bribe?”

“No! it’s just something I bought to convince you into doing what I wanted, since I knew you would say no immediately...oh wait, I guess it was a bribe after all.”

“Minho...I have a life, you know? And I’ve got better things to do than pretend to date you.” Although you couldn’t imagine what would be better than an excuse to hold Minho’s hands, even briefly...you drifted off, imagining Minho being your boyfriend, a giddy smile appearing on your face.

“Y/n?”

You snapped out of it, eyes shooting open. “Wha...?”

Then again, this was a bad idea. Having to pretend to be in love with Minho when you actually were wouldn’t end well, and you told yourself that mentally.

“Absolutely not. I’m not gonna set aside my commitments to prance around as your girlfriend just because you made a mistake, and didn’t fuck one girl.”

Minho exhaled.

“Y/n...the girl’s father is the Chief of Police. She told me she’d report me to him as a sexual offender. And even if I somehow convince her not to do that, there are a thousand other girls who would want to do stuff like that as well, girl who would kill to get some revenge on me. I...need to clear my reputation. Scrub the slate blank. Please help me.”

Your eyes wide, you digested this information. Fuck, you really had no choice.

“I...”

He looked away. “It’s fine, y/n, you don’t have to agree. You’re right. I got myself into this mess...I kinda deserve it.”

He got up to leave, but your arm shot up to hold him in place. “Wait!”

Your eyes took in his hopeful face and you melted. Ugh. You hated the effect he had on you.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

A wide grin spread across his face as he surged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. He pressed his nose into your neck and you almost sighed. Was this a bad idea? Would you regret it?

As Minho pulled away, his wide smile still present on his face, your heart softened.

Nah. This was the right thing to do. After all, what good is a best friend if he’s in jail?

[prey-to-go]

Another hurt/comfort prompt (kinda), if you like: Peter sees the careless, wolflike pred again in normal, everyday life and it brings EVERYTHING back.

 my god- I'm going to end up signing my blog away to you anon ;♡; ))

Things had been going great for Peter. His relationship with Tony had been more defined, the school was going great and May wasn’t as stressed about bills anymore. He wasn’t even bothered when he went out to go grab some bread from the store.

“Alright, bread and eggs.” He says to himself, navigating his way to the bread aisle. He briefly wondered if he should clock in later for an extra shift, he certainly wouldn’t mind spending time with Tony.

“All they’ve got is that wonder bread shit.”

Peter felt all his blood run cold when he heard that voice. He froze mid-step to listen in some more, it couldn’t be the pred...the person just sounded like him. He let a small slightly hysterical laugh out before forcing himself to peek into the aisle.

All the air left his lungs in a rush as he stared at the predator in the isle. He was frozen at the spot, unable to do another but stare.

“That’s what I’m telling ya, just the fucking wonder bread.” The pred growled out. Peter’s mind barely caught up with his body, the next thing he knew he was sprinting down another aisle.

His own footsteps echoed in his ears as he ran. He just needed to hide, he needed to be safe. He only halted when he found a bin of stuffed animals and dove into the bin without much hesitation.

“Tony, I need tony.’ The thought defended any of his other's fears. He needed the demon right now. Tony always made everything alright no matter what the problem was.

His hands felt numb as he fumbled to get his phone, the helpless feeling of being much smaller than he actually was leaving him gasping for air. He managed to get his phone unlocked pausing for a second to wonder when he had started shaking. He shoved the thought aside and focused on dialing Tony.

“Hey kid, I was just about-” Tony kept speaking but all Peter could focus on was the soft rumble of the demon’s voice. It was gruff, warm, and made him feel so safe it was nearly suffocating. A soft sob escaped him and his throat burned like he drank liquid fire.

He numbly took a puff from his inhaler, though it didn’t help with the painful sobs wracking his body. He couldn’t understand how quickly his day went from good to horrible in seconds.

“Kid- Peter, hey hey, where are you? I need you to answer me.”

Oh, that’s right, Tony was trying to talk to him. He let a shaky breath out rubbing his face unconsciously as if that could get the words to come out. All he could manage was a few broken sobs that burned his chest.

“Easy there, it’s alright. I’m coming okay? You just need to tell me where you are.” Tony’s voice rolled over him like a security blanket, heavy and comforting.

“S-store..in..,, M’ hiding.” He chokes out between sobs. Tony was coming for him, so why couldn’t he just stop crying?

He heard a soft sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. A flash of fear struck him, leaving him breathless for a few seconds. Tony wasn’t going to hang up, was he? No no he couldn’t deal with being alone again.

“D-Don’t...please stay.” He sounded hoarse like he had been sobbing for hours instead of minutes, had it just been a few minutes?

There was a brief pause of silence where Peter felt so lost and valuable terrified the demon had already hung up. “I’m still here kid....do you want me to keep talking?”

The relief he felt was overwhelming. Tears clouded his vision making it even harder to see in the dim light of his hiding place. Another sob wrenched itself from him as he managed to nod.

If he thought hard enough the plushness felt like the inside of the demon’s stomach. He pressed his face into the nearest one, taking a shaky breath in as he tried to gain some comfort.

“I’ll be there soon kiddo, alright? Just hang on.”

That was the last clear thing Peter could make out, everything else just seemed to blur together. He wasn't even sure how much time had passed, hours, minutes? It all just blended together and made him dizzy so he just squeezed his eyes and waited.

He was going to shift to get more comfortable when he heard footsteps coming toward his hiding place. Every muscle in his body seized the closer they got. The echoing of what Tony was saying blended together with whatever was coming to him and the haze lifted from his thoughts.

“Mr.Stark?” He whimpers hoarsely. He was greeted by clawed hands sinking into the stuffed animals and almost tenderly curling around him.

“Hey, kid. Tony responds softly.

Peter held back another round of sobbing deciding to just grab onto his savior the second he was out of his plush hiding place. He barely made out being gently shushed just buried his face into Tony’s chest.

The heartbeat steadily thumping lulled his panic making him feel heavy with relief. He wasn’t sure but he could’ve sworn the place got darker and while he couldn’t figure it out the change was welcomed.

A hand ran through his hair briefly and he let a small whine out at the loss of contact even if logically he knew he was still being held. He was so used to being able to fit in the demon’s hands. He wasn’t sure he liked being ‘normal’ height around Tony. It felt a little wrong in an odd way.

“How about we go to the tower and have some hot chocolate or something?” Tony offers. Just the thought of being close to the demon was able to soothe the teen. He didn’t care what they did all Peter wanted was to feel safe again.

“Yeah”

__________________________________________________________

Peter didn’t remember much of being carried into the tower, just Tony reassuring him the whole way as he numbly drifted in and out of the living world.

His stomach swooped when he relaxed that Tony was trying to put him down. He managed to get an undignified whined out before the demon could fully deposit him on the couch.

“What, the couch not good enough?” Tony teases softly. Peter felt a little silly now that he thought about it.

“I- Sorry.” He says quietly, grimacing at how pathetic it sounded. Had he seriously made Tony carry him all the way to the tower, like some sort of overgrown baby?

“Hey, it’s alright kiddo, just teasing you.”

That didn’t stop Peter's cheeks from burning with embarrassment. He missed the frown on the demon's face as he squirmed around. He sighed in victory when he was set down on the couch.

“I...I’m okay..ah thanks, Mr.Stark! You- You didn’t have to carry me here.” He says quickly. Not making eye contact sounded great at the moment- man it was weird seeing the room from a different height.

“Don’t start with that kid, we both know I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Which was true, he knew that Tony would drop anything to come to his rescue. Peter chews his lip not sure how to respond.

Tony always did come to his rescue like he was some type of family member. Maybe it had something to do either being eaten by the genius? He only usually acted this way with the Avengers and Pepper, and they were basically his family.

“Hot chocolate?” He asks weakly. That seemed to be a good subject change sense he heard the demon making a beeline to the kitchen. He still couldn’t bring himself to look Tony in the eyes yet.

How many times was the demon going to have to deal with him breaking down? He was genuinely surprised that Tony hadn’t given up on him yet and found a less fussy snack.

“...I know you’re trying to change the topic, but seriously kid if you ever need anything I'm here for you,” Tony says from the kitchen. Everything about the situation felt oddly domestic, like a comfy family home which made it hard not to relax.

“Well yeah but, like obviously you’re not always going to be here so I need to toughen up.” He shoots back. He hesitantly grabbed a blanket that was hanging on the couch, tugging it around himself.

It smelled like Tony. He blushed and looked away from the blanket to look out the window. He shouldn't be able to pick that smell up so easily, it's not like they were super close..right?

“Who says?” That through Peter for a loop. he had been so focused on not burdening Tony and thinking about what he'd do without the demon he sorta just forgot the now.

“I’m not exactly the kind of guy who gives up kid,” Tony says heading over. The blissful smell of hot chocolate following him. Peter made a point not to look at the demon squeezing his eyes shut when the couch dipped slightly at the weight of the demon.

“Look at me kid.”

It was said gently but was obviously a command, so Peter hesitantly lifted his head up to peer at the demon. A mug was nudged into his hands the warmth soothing his nerves.

Tony looked back at him with such a warm and caring look it made him feel like he was sitting in the sun.

“I care about you and nothing is going to make me stop,” Tony murmurs softly, brushing a stray hair out of Peter’s face.

Peter swallowed thickly before glancing away. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information he had now. Tony actually cared about him? It was obvious but at the same time, it shocked him.

“...Promise?” He finally says looking back at Tony. Relief washed over him when the demon chuckled and nodded.

“I promise.”

[lixie-lovie]

Coincidence | skz

Chan x Reader

producer!chan x reader

Summary: This wasn’t exactly how you expected to meet the producer of your first comeback song, but...

Genre: fluff; idol!chan, producer!chan, idol!reader (solo)

Word Count: 2k words

Warnings: A few swear words but that’s about it.

________________________________________________________________

     You are late. You are so damn late. It is your first day being tasked with working with a new producer at your company. A producer who will be helping you with a few of your new songs for your first comeback. You have never personally met him, but you have heard many things about him. One thing you know for sure though is that everyone has told you this guy does not like to wait around and you are so fucking late. 

You were so busy preparing your schedule for all of the upcoming shoots and recording sessions last night that you passed out at your desk during the early hours of the morning. Only to find that you had forgotten in the midst of things to set your alarm for your 11 o’clock meeting with your new producer Bang Chan. When you woke up at 12 o’clock and had 17 missed calls from your manager you knew you were screwed. So, while muttering every prayer you could think of so that you wouldn’t be fired on the spot, you did everything you could to speed run your morning routine to make it to the recording studio while your producer was hopefully still there.

After haphazardly putting yourself together trying to rush to your car you realized you hadn’t brought yourself anything to eat and you had definitely missed breakfast. After mulling over the pros and cons you decided fuck it and made a right turn to head toward the nearest Starbucks knowing recording sessions for hours without food would probably only piss your new producer off. Besides, you were already late and you had heard he liked coffee. Hopefully getting him some on the way would be enough to forgive you.

After ordering your favorite drink, snack, and something for Bang Chan too you walked out of the small restaurant as quickly as possible. As you opened the doors to the cool air, you took a moment to breathe and collect yourself. You felt almost peaceful for the first time this morning before a sudden shout could be heard from behind you that was getting increasingly louder. 

“Hey! HEY!!! That’s my car!” You watched in awe as the young man who was just behind you shoved you aside, made you spill the drinks you were holding, and continued on without even stopping to look at you as he saw the truck pulling away with his car attached. Fuming, you continued to watch with clenched teeth as he cursed and pulled out his phone from a black bag on his shoulder. You looked down at your now ruined white dress shirt and sighed, running your hands through your hair. Picking up one of the soiled cups in a tight fist you clenched your jaw and began to march your way up to the perpetrator.

“Hey! Who do you think you are, huh? I get you’re in distress but watch where you’re going!!” You yell as you wave your now empty cup and point at your ruined shirt. He groans as he turns around to face you. His eyes widen as he stares down at you. Your breath quickly gets caught in your throat as you choke down any further complaints. Once you get a good look at his face you almost completely forget about your anger. He’s gorgeous.

Right as you remember why you’re standing there and that you should be on your way to the studio right now you notice his expression change. He narrows his eyes at you and licks his lips before turning around to completely ignore you and walk away while muttering something to his phone that sounds awfully like “Felix, how am I supposed to get to the studio now?” And “that meeting was supposed to be an hour and a half ago!”

You feel the anger slowly leaving your body as you realize he probably is extremely frustrated and didn’t mean to bump into like that. You bite your lip as you contemplate what to do next. Taking a few cautious steps forward you try to listen for a break in his conversation to say something to him when he suddenly sighs deeply and says “I guess I’ll just take a cab..”

He then drops his phone into his bag quickly to haphazardly run his hands through his hair. While you’re watching and waiting tentatively to speak you barely catch him whisper, “Shit, I don’t have enough money on me for a cab all the way to JYP.” Suddenly, you have an idea. You slowly walk up to him so as to not startle him and gently tap on his shoulder.

“Hey. I’m sorry for yelling at you before. Uhm.. you sound like you’re heading for JYP? I have a proposition for you..” He slowly begins to lower his hands and brings his eyes up to meet yours. One you’re making eye contact you find it hard to elaborate. He then tilts his head with a subtle eyebrow raise to urge you to continue. “You got your car towed and need a ride. You then spilt my coffee on me. We both seem to be running late, and I have a car, but no money. How about if you agree to buy me two new cups of coffee then I will give you a ride to JYP myself! Free of charge!” You say with as bright a smile as you could muster. 

He watches you for a moment, taking in how you’re fiddling with the empty cup and shifting your weight on your feet in an anxious manner. It wasn’t until you began looking away and awkwardly coughing that he realized he hadn’t spoken yet. He slowly begins to smile and says, “I don’t even know you. You could be a murderer.” You slowly lose your smile as your cheeks begin to go red and your ears begin to feel hot.

“You’re the one who spilled my drink on me! I just thought you could use some help today!! Besides we both work for the same company so ugh!!” You speak quickly, embarrassing yourself further. He chuckles to himself, now noticing how cute you look flustered. Once you collect yourself enough to start thinking about retracting your offer he cuts you off.

“So, what coffee will it be?”

A few minutes later you two are standing silently in line for your new coffee. After a few minutes he looks at you sheepishly. “I’m really sorry about your shirt and about wasting your time here today, but I really appreciate this.” You smile as he rubs the back of his neck and tell him he doesn’t need to be sorry. Right as you two begin to silently stare at each other you both startle when you hear someone yell.

“Bang Chan!”

You immediately jump into action looking in every direction and tucking into yourself as much as possible as to not be noticed by the probably more than annoyed, old, cranky, not to be messed with, new producer you were supposed to be working with. Almost simultaneously though, the got-his-car-towed boy swiftly walks up to the counter and takes the drinks being held out to him by the barista. Your arms fall limp to your sides as your jaw goes slightly slack in shock. Surely there can be two Bang Chan’s in Korea right? This definitely isn’t the guy who’s producing your new comeback album...right?

The guy (Chan?) walks back over to you and smiles. “So, I guess you owe me a ride.”

“I guess I do.” You say slowly. Coming to the realization you probably don’t want to ask if your assumption is correct for a multitude of reasons, you put on your best smile. Quickly you pull your keys out and nod your head in the direction of your car. “Let’s go.”

The beginning of the ride was uneventful enough. Just even silence that felt comfortable until Chan (?) started fidgeting. Taking this as a sign of discomfort you decided to break the ice. “So, uh, are you okay? It seemed like you were having a pretty eventful day back there.” You smile kindly.

“Oh! I almost completely forgot about that. I’m sorry again by the way!” He says while turning to look at your face in a cutely curious way. “By the way,” he says nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “I never did catch your name..”

“Ah. I’m sorry! I completely forgot about introducing myself. Today has been pretty hectic.” you say thoughtfully and with a breathy laugh. “My name is y/n.”

“That’s a really pretty name! And I’m sorry your day has been bad. My name is Bang Chan. Most people just call me Chan though.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “I know you said you work with JYP and you do seem kind of familiar.. What is it that you do??”

You feel your heartbeat slow down in your chest. It’s now or never to test your hunch. You smile nervously. “I’m a new artist. I was supposed to be there a few hours ago for a meeting with a new producer, but I ended up super late and then a pretty boy ended up knocking my apology coffee all over me. I hope he’s not going to be too mad at me..” You trail off at the end hoping regardless of who producer Chan may be that they aren’t angry with your absence of punctuality.

“Really?! That’s cool!” He pauses, “not the being late, me spilling coffee all over you, and him being mad at you but the other stuff.” He takes another pause to chuckle nervously. “I am actually a producer with JYP, but I was running late this morning after a few nights of some extensive work because I was supposed to meet with a new idol on their comeback album this morning. I never made it and my laptop with my work and their contact information was in my car when it got towed.” He purses his lips. “I hope they didn’t get the wrong impression. I was super excited to work with them after hearing their samples.”

At this point you’re having a hard time breathing. You bite your lip and try not to seem as shocked as you are. “I’m sure they will understand completely as soon as you contact them. Also I hope the stuff with your car goes well..” you say with a smile that seems forced even to you.

He smiles back regardless. “And I hope the stuff with your producer goes well. Though I’m sure he won’t be mad after he gets this coffee, this is my favorite too!” He says with a laugh. You assume he was just trying to keep lighthearted conversation. You begin to let your thoughts drift as you near your destination and see Chan gathering his things.

So this is Bang Chan. You assumed he would be older, meaner, more gruff and straight to the point, but he was kind, warm, happy, and everything producers usually never are. You sincerely hope you won’t miss your next recording session with him. It didn’t hurt that he wasn’t the ugliest either.

After you park and get out of the car Chan insists on walking you to the studio door. Once you’re there he stops and turns to you, handing you the coffees with a big smile. “Thank you so much for today. I really appreciate it and have enjoyed talking with you a lot today. I don’t know how I could repay you.”

You look at him and slowly grin, “No need to repay me. Your company and the coffee is good enough for me!” You giggle shortly and look up at him brightly, “I guess it’s time to get to work now. I’ll be seeing you around.” You laugh as you say this. He doesn’t know why. Mentally he’s already thinking of the ways he’s going to get to work as he smiles at you. Slowly he turns to walk away as you walk through the studio door. He’s just about completely lost in thought before he freezes in the middle of the hallway. He slowly begins to grin to himself as he turns back to look at the door again.

He rushes back up to the door, laughing as he realizes it was his studio you just entered. He takes a breath and pauses before entering himself as he thinks about what you said earlier, realizing you had pieced it together quicker than him. He chuckles softly as he turns the door knob and finds himself giddy at the idea of his favorite coffee and a recording session with someone he hopes will be a new, reoccurring coincidence in his life.

—••—

Authors Note:

Hello few people who are going to see this! This is my first ever published fic and I hope you enjoy it!

I may not post much very quickly on this blog, but I do hope to be able to post some fics in my spare time. Hopefully giving back to the community like this will bring a smile to someone’s face! :)

Taglist: @elcie-chxn (a big thank you to this sweetie 🥺)

[cxptain-rex]

escaping {Wolffe}

pairing: wolffe x reader

warnings: spoilers? order 66 so yeah

request: @spaghetti-666. I hope you enjoy this request! Tbh it made me cry. I hope the rest as well enjoys it after today’s finale. I have no words. Just enjoy. May the fourth be with you. 💕

***

***

Life isn’t certain. You are sure of it. The said thing take turns and sometimes it surprises you. Like when you think something will go a certain way and it doesn’t. Today is that day.

General Plo and yourself have managed to bring a Republic victory in the planet of Cato Neimoidia.

Everything was dying down. The droids as well. You landed just in time, the Wolfpack were cheering when something went off. One of the Jedi star fighter had been shot down and crashed against the columns of the city. Your eyes widen, Master Plo You thought watching the republic starfighters shoot your master.

Death wasn't kind. You knew that. It snatched where it could, taking people who were far too young, far too good. It didn't pretend to care, it didn't pretend to distinguish.

The hooded vale of death had hung over the galaxy for a long time, always threatening. It had never touched you quite so close. Death had ripped away a part of you, the part of you that was most loved.

Now you have to go. Your face sunken and haunted, your mind cold and empty. The more the seconds went on. The despair grew and you have come to learn that the galaxy had gone cold, because of the plague that was death, and war.

You turned towards the Wolfpack and your heart stopped. Their blasters turned pointing straight towards you. A frown tug on your features. You search for Wolffe, you find him doubled over clutching his head.

The first thing to pass your mind is the child in you. Wolffe’s and yours as well. You must protect him. But you must protect your lover as well. So you advance towards your family.

Taking staggering footsteps but you’re stopped. “Stay right there, Jedi scum” Comet snapped causing you to halt. “Guys...” you trail shedding your saber. The Wolfpack starts shooting and you deflect their bolts, jumping and advancing towards your star fighter. As tears stream down your cheeks you can’t help but look back as the Wolfpack and its Commander keep shooting.

As you hop into your fighter, you take off. You don’t look back, you can’t. If you do, you’ll stay and let yourself get killed along with your child. What’s gone wrong, you thought as you flew away from the planet. Leaving behind your master and your lover. Many thoughts fly by your mind. You lost your lover, the father of your child, and your own father.

As you make it into orbit, you sigh. Your astromech, R9, beeps sadly. “I don’t know what’s going on buddy, but Wolffe isn’t with us and nor is Master Plo” you sigh and it explodes. You sob and cry for them. For Master Plo, for Wolffe and for your family.

The pain in you is numb yet it flows like prickles into your heart. You close your eyes, you have no idea on what or where to go. No one reaches out through the force and you feel nothing but numbness. The only thing keeping you aflote is the child in you.

***

The vastness of space seems cold and welcoming as you fly through hyperspace. You’ve received a pull from an old friend. You felt them through the force while wondering across a deserted planet.

Now you’re on your way to Saleucami. Dread fills your being as the planet comes to view. R9 beeps exitedly causing you to smile. “Let’s see what we’ve got here buddy” you mumble entering the atmosphere of the planet. Green takes over the land as the view changes into one of nature. You spot animals and trees. It is almost like a peaceful planet.

You land your vessel on the outskirts of a farm. As you emerge from the fighter, R9 trails behind you beeping. Supposing you follow the trail of the farm animals which you spotted earlier.

A small farm comes to view. You walk further and people emerge from said farm. At first you don’t believe it but you can confirm it. Ahsoka Tano stands a couple of feet away from you. A gasp emerges from you as you stumble towards her.

“Ahsoka” you cry hugging her. She remains silent but hugging you back, you feel the pain she endured. Footsteps approach and you lift your gaze. A hostil demeanor falls on you as you shed your weapon. A hand covering your growing stomach. Captain Rex has come as well. You stand ready to fight.

“Stop, we can explain” Ahsoka reassures and you narrow your gaze at her and the clone captain. The togruta leads you inside. A family sits around the table at the middle and they smile at you welcomingly.

“Hello” you mumble softly as they smile back and you recognize the man of the family as a trooper. Yet you do not ask. It is not your business. They leave. Now Rex, Ahsoka and yourself have taken a seat around the table. And you wait for an explanation.

***

“So...you guys had chips implanted in you?” You say taking in the information. Rex nods solemnly as he remembers, Jesse is dead in a unknown moon. His vods are dead. Your mind drifts to Wolffe, he must be under the influence of the Order. Unconsciously a hand falls on your stomach as you rub it. Rex catches the gesture and his eyes widened. As you follow his gaze to your growing bump.

“It is his” You say as your voice breaks. A tear falls as you cry silently. Rex takes a tentative seat on your side. He lays a hand on top of yours. Silence overcomes the moment and you understand. Rex will do everything in his power to protect you and his vod’s child.

Wolffe is lost within himself. Your heart aches. It clenches as you think of your lover being nothing more than another mindless soldier. He’s always been a soldier, your mind says and you snap. You stand slowly and trudge your way out of the house.

Rex frowns as he and Ahsoka follow after you. “Where are you going?” They ask simultaneously and you turn back. “I’m going back for Wolffe and the rest” you say and it actually sounded more stupid than you thought yet you couldn’t give up on them.

Ahsoka’s eyes widen as she stares at you in disbelief. “Are you crazy?! You will get yourself killed and the baby!” she says and you shrug your shoulders. “I can’t let them die, Ahsoka” you mumble staring at the green grass around your brown boots.

“Y/N...Wolffe...he is—“

“I’m right here, cy’are”

Another voice joins the three of you. At first your heart skips a beat but then fear settles. You saw him draw his gun towards you. Suddenly you’re transported back to Cato Neimoidia. You take a step back.

Wolffe looks at you with pain. He understands. He saw your face in the Cato Neimoidia. He wanted to scream and shout for you to run. To turn back and leave him. To save yourself.

“It’s me. I swear...I won’t hurt you” he says taking a tentative step towards you. The conflict within you is doing a storm which leads you to frown. Taking a look at your lover you recognize him. His force signature stronger than ever and pure.

A sob ripples through as you throw yourself on him. Wolffe catches you with ease, he shushes your crying. You lift your head from his neck to meet his gaze. With tears trickling from your eyes, your lips meet his. Wet and salty and warmth. “I thought I lost you” you cry against him.

Wolffe remains silent. He holds you tighter against him. He enjoys the moment. Suddenly you pull away and his gaze lands on your growing bump. He lays a tender hand against it. A kick, Wolffe feels it. The clone commander’s eye widen. “A pup” he whispers rubbing your stomach.

“Our pup” you smile laying a hand on top of Wolffe’s. He smiles as a tear fall from his eye. He kisses your hairline pulling you closer.

***

A cry falls from your lips.

When the labour began the pain was more intense than anything you had ever imagined. Nothing could be more brutal, not whips or chains. The room was only the bed and four walls, the medical droids melting into the background as if they weren't even there. Is there anything more isolating than intense pain? Doesn't pain lock people in as effectively as any prison?

After, when your child was born, it was as if only sunshine existed the world, as if all the earth was ushered into harmony. You looked into those new eyes, a new consciousness, perfect and reaching out for your love.

In that instant you knew you would do anything to protect your child, that your love was as vast as the universe yet solid as rock. You were a mother and would always be.

Wolffe stands by your side cradling your form. He stares at the bundle. “A boy” you say gazing into your baby’s eyes. A pair of golden irises meet yours and Wolffe’s gaze. The perfect child, you think as the baby resembles Wolffe and yourself.

“Orion” Wolffe says as you smile softly at your newly born child. Rex and Ahsoka watch as well their little family member.

“That’s one hell of a baby” Ahsoka jokes causing you to laugh silently at her. Little Orion gargles catching Wolffe’s finger. The clone smiles at the baby and Rex smiles as well. Your perfect family.

Aside from the war and how it left you all scarred, you manage to strive for prosperity and happiness. You found it all in your family. In Wolffe. Perhaps you lost comrades and an old family. But you still have something bigger.

Love.

And you are mostly sure that it’ll be like that no matter where the shadow of the Empire resides across the stars.

***

A/N: I hope you guys liked this. You’re welcome to leave feedback! Reblog and like for future content. ❤️

tags: @notreallybeccab @colorfulloverbatturkey

[jamiedc-they-them]

Bonds that never die (Platonic)

Daisy Johnson x sister reader but it takes place in season 4, the reader was killed earlier by ward in like season 2 or something but when daisy wakes goes into the framework and has to interrogate someone it’s her sister? Maybe somehow the reader is able to come back with her and Simmons?

Hope I did the request justice! 

You and Daisy weren’t blood sisters, but that didn’t matter. Just like with Jemma, she counted you as a sister anyway. You both met at the orphanage, both latched onto each other for reassurance that the other wasn’t alone. That you could actually make it through those times.

 So, as she got ready to join her surrogate sister in a computer simulation, she was more than ready to plunge headfirst in to try and find the rest of her family. However, she also wanted to be there to make sure Jemma would make it back.

 She couldn’t lose another sister. Not again.

 “I can’t believe Fitz made another LMD body.” Jemma said as they both got prepared to go into the Framework.

 “He did?” Daisy asked her friend, wondering why her Scottish friend had done just that. Wasn’t AIDA enough?

 “Yes. Well, he hadn’t fully done it, they never fully made it. But the plans were there to make another one.” Jemma admitted.

 “Did he say who they were going to make?”

 “No, they didn’t. But I think their plan was to maybe…. maybe try to bring someone back.” Jemma seemed to struggle with getting the words out. As if they would summon someone from their past right away.

 “Well, it didn’t happen. Besides, they wouldn’t be the same anyway.” Her voice saddened a little at the thought of you, her twin.

 “Oh, Daisy.” Jemma said empathetically as she brought her best friend in for a hug.

 “You don’t talk about her much, now.” She said as she still held the hug.

 “There’s not much to talk about, Jemma. You knew her almost as well as I did –”

 “Yes, but not for as long. Daisy, she might be gone, but you don’t have to forget about her.” Daisy just nodded, wanting to move the conversation on as quickly as possible.

  They were in, and Daisy was in the worst position she could possibly be in. Working at HYDRA with the one and only, Grant Ward.

 Speaking of him, the two had just had an argument after interrogating one inhuman, DJ. It hadn’t gone the best, but she’d managed to reign it into not being a total cataclysmic failure. Plus, she had already found someone to bring back, May.

 “There’s one more, but I’ll let you take that. We could use a moment to breathe.” Ward said, before brushing past her; seemingly getting her want to just be left alone for a while.

 She was still reeling from seeing, “deceased,” next to Jemma’s name. Seeing that she may have just lost another member of her family to a simple game of chance. Her heart raced as she her mind drifted to being alone in this world, with no backup and only her wits to survive.

 Her heart ached when she remembered when that would be you both; your whole mantra, “Us against the world,” It was cute, but it meant something to you both. It was a promise you had both made each other, to never leave the other.

 Just made her miss you more.

 She sighed, begging her mind to move onto the pressing situation of currently being alone with no backup in a hostile world filled with HYDRA agents. Training aside, she wouldn’t be able to survive being in the wolf’s den alone. She’d easily get gunned down if she made one wrong move.

 She had a whole other life here, a life she didn’t know. But one that apparently had it just be her. She was going to look up your name, to try and find out what had happened to you in this reality.

 But, as soon as she had apparently seen Jemma’s grizzly fate, she changed her mind on that quickly and didn’t look it up. She’d rather not know and pretend you were fine, then look and find that you were dead in this world too.

 With a steading (as best as she could manage) breath, she looked at the file for the next inhuman to interrogate. For the next, “Traitor” to be scared to god knows what end and then be locked up in a room with seemingly no way of escape.

 However, her eyes widened when she saw a familiar name written on the page, along with the photo.

 Y/N Johnson. You, her sister was alive in this world.

 More importantly, she was the person that was going to be interrogating you.

 You tried not to show the fear, to mask it anyway possible; be that the steady-ish breathing, or the way you tried not to tighten your grip on the chair. It was the only way you could show some kind of resistance.

 Yes, that kind of resistance, the one that was SHIELD. You had signed up a little while ago, to try and find some sense of belonging. You had gotten exactly what you were looking for.

 This, however, was not it. Not tied to a chair, awaiting whoever it was that was going to tear you apart and leave you for dead, most likely.

 However, you were met with a smaller woman, one a little taller than you if you had to guess. She seemed to hold herself with a bit of nervousness; maybe you could use that to your advantage.

 As soon as she laid eyes on you, she seemed to freeze, mouth parting and words starting to form only for nothing to come out a few times. Finally, she gulped and placed the file down, only to then remember that she needed it.

 Whenever she read it, she’d look back up at you every so often as if she couldn’t believe the words she was reading.

 She cleared her throat, “Your name is Y/N Johnson, right?” She asked, your last name being dragged out more as if she was testing it out for a reason you did not know.

 “Scared you got the wrong person?” There it was, your snappy comebacks; Daisy had to bite back a smile, or a laugh. Or some reaction that would give away her most ridiculous and insane plan yet.

 “No, just going over the facts.” She said, having faux confidence on her back. Her voice wobbled as she spoke; maybe getting out of this would be easier than you thought.

 “Maybe it’s a cover name.” You said, testing the waters.

 She let out a snort, one that seemed to hold some genuine warmth to it, “Maybe it is, who’d be the wiser, right?” No, she was trying to get you to lower your guard down so she could manipulate you. To get you to join their ranks.

 You’d rather die than have that happen.

 “I’m not gonna hurt you.” She said, softly, as if she genuinely meant it. The next moment, the camera watching you went off.

 “It’s looping some footage I had earlier, so we can actually talk now.” Oh, so what she was going to do was so much worse.

 She pressed a button on her pad, the cuffs came off. She approached you and spoke in a low voice, “We’re going to get out of here, but I need you to follow my lead. alright?”

 You didn’t know if you could fully trust her. But that mere act made her seem trustworthy, even if for now. As a means to an end.

 You nodded.

 “If it helps you trust me, I’m Daisy.”

   You both had been separated a few times, different families adopting you; or rather, taking you in for a week/month/year before sending you right back. Right back, just as you had both hoped, to each other.

 Your sisterly bond was unbreakable, only death could separate you.

 That was when Phil Coulson had found you both in a van, living in the streets together, working for the Rising Tide. You both had cautiously joined the team and never really looked back.

 It was the day you both finally found a stable (ironic, with what was to come) place and people that actually wanted you both around, wanted to be friends with you both (some more than others; but still, they weren’t hostile to you. That one mainly being May with the both of you, and Ward with you,) and seeing you as a valuable person, someone they wouldn’t give up on no matter what.

  Sadly though, that voice in the back of your head that told you constantly that you were going to be left behind, that they would drop you if shit hit the fan drove you to be more reckless than your sister.

 You both became agents, but you wanted in the field as soon as. With Skye’s injury, it just made you want to go out there more.

 It was what had led Daisy to where she was now, about to enter a computer world to try and find her friends.

 “Daisy!” A woman yelled in relief; Daisy let out her own sigh of relief as she hugged her friend, yelling out her name. Her name was Jemma.

 Jemma’s eyes widened when she saw you, and she turned to Daisy with a questioning gaze. Even though you were behind them, you saw Daisy slightly nod.

 “Your Y/N, right?” You nodded, cautious of the new woman. The next moment, you were enveloped in a hug. A tight one.

 You looked to Daisy, who looked kind of happy (or nostalgic, as she’d put it) at seeing the interaction.

 Jemma pulled away, holding you at arm’s length and smiling brightly at you with some tears in her eyes.

 She couldn’t say anything, as a man approached with a gun drawn; Daisy had instantly put herself in front of you, shielding him from shooting you. You gripped Daisy’s arm in fear, she grabbed your hand in her’s, the other holding the gun.

 You didn’t talk through the whole confrontation, only letting Daisy and Jemma speak for you.

“And whose she?” He spat, trying again to aim his gun at you. It was in that moment you saw who he was, you’d seen him around a few times in SHIELD; what the hell was he doing aiming a gun at you?

 “Ward, WARD! Put it down, ok? She’s not a threat!” Daisy’s finger squeezed on the trigger. She didn’t want to kill this Ward, but she would if it would save you….and make up for last time.

 It was after SHIELD had fallen; you were all on the run in a way. You were in the shadows, all of you. You were no-ones again. To you and Daisy, though, it was more than that. You had both lost the one place you had started to belong in. You’re badges meant nothing.

 But, as Daisy had said to you, it didn’t mean you were nobody’s.

 “We have them no, Y/N. But…if it does come to it, you have me, ok? We’re sisters, family. I’m not leaving your side for as long as I can help it, alright?” You smiled at her words, knowing she fully meant them.

 “Love you.” Was all you could say before you got choked up.

 Skye, as she went by then, happily returned your hug, “Love you too.” She said.

 “Y/N, you ready?” Coulson asked, looking slightly guilty that he had interrupted your sister-bonding moment. He quickly caught onto your coining of the term ever since he asked you both to come with him to investigate the job that led him to his old protégée. You both even spoke in sync, which freaked him out.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be, sir.” You replied, voice trembling a little with worry. He placed a fatherly hand on your arm, as Daisy put a hand on your shoulder. Both actions done in reassurance.

 “You’ll be fine, Y/NN.” Daisy said, so sure of her words.

 Words that would turn out to be false.

 Ward had gotten you all out of the situation of being gunned down by HYDRA forces. Despite all the chaos, you had heard Daisy responding to Simmons’ comment about being in hell with, “How do you think I feel.” Judging by Jemma’s look back at her, and her eyes flickering to you for a moment. Those words held a double meaning to them.

 Daisy had done all she could to protect you on the journey back, making sure to keep close to you as you went to the apartment.

 Once you had reached it, you spoke, “Is there a – uh -- a room that I can….” Daisy looked at you, eyes softening slightly as she saw your terrified state. Despite being an agent, you weren’t numb to it all yet.

 “Yeah, just through there.” Daisy said, softly like last time, pointing to the room she once shared with Ward.

 Once you were gone, the two best friends turned to one another, “I have no idea how she’s here, Jemma!” She whisper-yelled in shock and disbelief. She allowed herself to finally process the fact that you were back. That you weren’t dead in a truck like you were in the real world.

 “I know…I know…. I mean – It should be impossible…” Jemma started to ramble, but she too was at a loss for words at seeing one of her other female best friends alive once again. Even if it wasn’t the one, she had befriended.

 “She doesn’t remember us, Jemma.” Jemma now softened at her friend’s words, knowing the affect all of this must be having on her.

 “I know, but she seems to trust us a little. So, it’s a start.” Daisy couldn’t help but nod at Jemma’s words, she was right after you; you seemed to be slowly coming around to them.

 You shared a nod with Jemma and Daisy as you past them with you standing between him and your sister, while Jemma was a secondary wall between the pair.

 “If I see you again, I’ll kill you.” Jemma promised the man, his vision was then blacked out by a bag as you continued to lead him to the van that would then transport him away to his brother.

 After a while of tagging along with Daisy (at her own insistence) it led you all to the TV station. You would broadcast a message to the world about the evil HYDRA had done; every sin they had committed and every lie that had spun about them being the victors and SHIELD being the villains of the tale they told.

 You had managed to get in, and were about to broadcast the message, when Ward had entered the room to have a private talk with Daisy.

 “Go on, I’ll be ok.” Daisy assured you with a light pat on the arm. You looked between the two, having the vague notion that you weren’t needed for this conversation. So, you gave them both an awkward smile and then departed.

 “Everything ok?” Jemma asked as she saw you waiting with your arms folded outside the room.

 “Got booted out of there for the love birds to have their moment. Didn’t know he’d ever really give it a shot.” Jemma chuckled a little at your words; you even let out your own, letting your guard down more with her and Daisy more than you really had with anyone in your life. There was just something about them that made you trust them more.

 “Well, he’s not so bad. Besides, if Daisy wants something, she goes for it.” You nodded, having gathered that from your time with Daisy. How she’d always look out for those she called friends, probably defend them to her last breath; but, if she had a goal, nothing could stand in her way.

 “What’s the deal with her, anyway?” Jemma looked at you, silently asking for you to continue, “She seems…off with me. Did I do something?” You asked, your insecurities getting the better of you. If it were anyone else, you’d hate being this vulnerable with them. But, as said, you felt like you could genuinely trust the pair.

 “It’s not you, trust me.” She assured you.

 “Then what is –” You stopped your question and frustration when you heard raised voices from the room. Despite Jemma calling out your name, you approached the open door.

 “I can’t just leave Y/N here, alone!” Daisy said in her own frustration.

 “And why not? What am I going to do, huh?” Ward challenged, despite their calm conversation before, bringing you up had set something off in her.

 “Because –” She caught herself, but Ward pressed.

 “What?” He softened his voice in horror as he realised, “Did I…do something to her.”

Daisy couldn’t help the tears in her eyes as, in a broken voice, she told him, “You killed her, Ward.”

 “I’m dead…?” Daisy looked over Wards shoulder, the man spinning around quickly to see you looking between them in shock and betrayal.

 “Y/N…” Daisy had no idea on what to say, how to comfort you or to explain all of it to you. But she seemed like she was going to anyway. Ward even opened his mouth to try as well.

 You looked at ward in betrayal, “You…you knew?” He lowered his head in shame. You then looked at Jemma, who had a look of pity and guilt, “You – you all did?” You looked at the three; their silence confirming the answer to you.

 He was quick, quicker than you had ever expected really. Unlike May or Skye, he was going for the kill. He went through everyone quickly, before it came to you.

 He looked at you as he debated it, he had genuinely seen you as a friend like most of the others on the team. But, in this moment, you were on opposite sides of the playing field. Right now, it was even; and, depending on your next move, it would either tip in their favour, or stay even.

 “Y/N just stay down. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He said, genuine emotion behind his words.

 “You already have Ward. You screwed over my sister! And you expect me to, what? Let you go.” He saw that same fire he saw in Skye. If he did not know any better, he would’ve sworn you were blood and not sister’s by only bond.

 “Y/N –” Your next actions cut him off.

 “See you in hell, Ward.” You seemed almost resigned to your fate.

 You went for his gun, but you only saw black the next moment.

 You sat on one of the three beds, just sat there with your hands together and your head laying on them as you still tried to process everything: you were dead in another world, and you were related to Daisy (whose last name you found out was also Johnson).

 “Been looking for you,” Coulson said as he took a seat next to you, “How are you holding up?” He asked, nudging you slightly.

 “Like you give a shit, Coulson.” You spat, but not in a hating tone; it was tired, but soft one you spoke in. Now he was seeing the resemblance between you both.

 “Look…I uh – I was just a teacher a few days ago. Now, I’m on the front lines, fighting in an apparently fake world –”

 “This one’s fake? Even better.” Coulson sighed, Daisy had warned him about how you were stubborn and did hold a grudge, and hated being lied to, just like her.

 “I know it’s hard to take in. Trust me, I’m still getting around to it –”

 “Yeah? Well, you aren’t the one that’s fucking dead over there!” You seethed, now your anger was showing as you rose from your bed; Coulson gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to a more secure place to talk freely about all this.

 “You’re right, you’re right,” He admitted, even raising his hands up to prove his point, “I can’t attest to how that must be to learn. But I have died over there. Now, I know you weren’t as lucky as I was; but I know that Daisy, me, Jemma and the others loved you over there like you were one of our own.”

 “So, what? Was I like the black sheep or something?” Coulson sighed, knowing that he had worded it wrong.

 “All you and Daisy had ever wanted was a family, you found that in both each other as sisters, and in us. I might not remember a lot, if anything. But I can easily tell how much Daisy cares about you. Far as I can tell, blood means nothing to her.” Coulson rephrased his words, hoping it would help his case to get you back with the gang in getting out of this place that would soon be nothing.

 “She tell you all that?” You asked through clenched teeth, despite how something in you was slightly moved by the idea of having a family finally. It didn’t seem to matter anymore, as you were dead. So, even if you did get out, you would only see darkness.

 “She caught me up to speed on it all, sure. But the care Simmons and Daisy both show for you. If I didn’t know you, and saw how far they’d go for you, I’d say you were all adopted sisters that got along like a jigsaw puzzle.”

 You frowned a little at his metaphor, “Ok, not my greatest one liner, but you get what I mean?” He asked, hoping you’d answer positively.

 “Good luck.” You genuinely meant your words to him; after that, you past him and went to the armoury to help anyone in any way you could.

  Daisy, meanwhile, sat on her own bed in the exact same pose as you were in just moments ago. However, she held tears in her eyes as she finally let the memories in, she let herself go back to that day you died. To the day Ward took their sister or daughter away from her and others.

 “Ward got out.” Was the first thing Coulson said when everyone had assembled in the room. Skye felt her pulse raise at the news, he was out of the cage and they had no methods of finding him. They had no idea where he was, but they had a good idea of what he was going to do.

 Then, it clicked for Skye, “Wait…where’s Y/N?” She asked, tone not as secure as she would’ve like it to be. But her question still got across.

 Coulson’s silence didn’t help her anxiety over her question, she looked to the others for some hope; but they had the same looks on their faces, “Coulson…where – where is my sister?” Her voice shook more. She looked to the door, as if you’d walk in the next moment, maybe a little bruised, but nothing else other than that.

 You’d be alive, that was all that mattered to her.

 Coulson’s eyes turned to pity, and she knew. She knew what the look meant; she knew what it conveyed.

 She knew what had happened to you.

 “No,” It was chocked at first, “No, No, no, no, no, no,” Then it was rushed, “NO!” Then it was loud and raw, “No…” Then it was soft and drifted off at the end; it was resolute; and it was filled with pain, rage, sadness, hate, pity, grief. All of those emotions locked into the final, “No.” that left her mouth before the sobs overtook her speech.

 The other members of her family, the alive ones, had no choice to watch as Daisy rejected any comfort, she just cried through the pain. Or, tried to cry through the pain. She knew it would never fully go away. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she’d try to make it so. Losing someone stuck with you.

 She felt a hand on her arm, she looked up to see Jemma above her. Daisy tried to smile, but it held no happiness to it; Jemma’s own one reflected it.

 They were best friends with both of you before your death, but the aftermath brought them closer. Despite their fallings out at times, they were family; and family always came back together, as it was love and the strength of the bond that brought them back; not necessity.

 Out of everyone on the team, they were closest, so maybe that was why their sisterhood became stronger after your demise.

 “I found her.” Was all Jemma needed to say for Daisy to take the hand offered and for her to stand.

 “Do you want –”

 “No, I’ll be fine.” She assured her friend as she wiped her last tear, before going to find you.

  You were checking the arsenal; although, Daisy was sure that you had already done that, you were just wasting time now.

 She didn’t blame you for it, either.

 “You just gonna stand there, or we gonna talk?” She let out a little smile at your words, she tentatively approached you, leaning against the entrance.

 “…I need your help.” She said, quietly; but you heard it, and you stopped and fully turned to her, mimicking her pose against the table that held a map on it.

 “Getting out of here?” She nodded, looking at the ground for a moment before meeting our eyes again.

 “Yup.” There was no pop of the, “p”, just silence that followed her honest answer.

 You sighed, “How am I here? Why am I here?”

Daisy almost smiled again, she remembered when you first asked that question in her van.

 “Was this when I was alive?”  Your words hurt, but she still nodded. She must’ve said that part out loud.

 “AIDA wanted to fix someone’s mistake –”

 “And I was yours?”

 “One of them…. I don’t know why she brought you into this. But, if it means anything, I’m glad I get the chance to see you again.”

 “I’ll help you.” She was shocked at how you managed to put your anger aside and let yourself help her one more time.

 She nodded, thankful, “Can I ask why?”

 “The rest of your family still need you, and you care about them too.”

 Daisy smiled, the old you were still in there, alright.

 It was an old factory, and the lava was the key out. Because, well, of course it was. Mack had his reservations, but that man was alive in that world. You could tell that Daisy looked up to him as a big brother. So, you knew he was on the list of people to get out.

 HYDRA guards swarmed the area, you went back to flank them from behind, while Daisy used her power to open the portal out. As soon as she did, a shockwave went through the area, showing the whole thing as a façade; and you as noting more than a pile of ones and zeros.

 With you distracted, you didn’t have time to remember about HYDRA, as a bullet soon found its way into your shoulder. With everyone else distracted, no one sure you drop on the metal floor as you clutched your shoulder.

 Your ears started to ring as you slowly started to bleed out. In one way, you found it kind of humorous, you’d die again in this world. At least, this time, it was for something.

 “Daisy!” You heard Mack call out as he ran to you and put pressure on your wound.

 You blacked out for a second, the next time you opened your eyes, Mack was gone, and Daisy was hovering over you with pure concern and tears in her eyes once again.

 “Hey, hey, hey. No, no, no, no. Don’t close your eyes, Y/N! You have to –” You blacked out again as her words drifted off.

 “Come on, almost there.” She grunted out as she struggled to fully shoulder your weight and get you to the portal.

 “Just leave me, I’m dead weight anyway.” Your words slurred; she didn’t have time to admonish you for your crude joke.

 “I’m not leaving you here…I’m not losing you again!” She was determined to get you out.

 “I already am.” You were ready to admit defeat. Which was when she had an idea.

 “But you don’t have to be.” You didn’t know what she meant by it, but you grabbed the railing for support as you fully opened your eyes as best you could.

 “Do you trust me?” Your sister asked you, hand still on your shoulder for support.

 “As far as I can throw you.” You said with what was meant to be a smile, before you pushed her. Thankfully, her hand with her power stayed where it was; however, her other hand grabbed your own and dragged you down with her.

  AIDA was gone, and they didn’t have much time. But they had all made it back. That was when Daisy turned to Fitzsimmons, “I have a huge favour to ask you both.” They nodded, wanting to help her in whatever her idea was.

 “I think we can bring Y/N back with your LMD idea, Fitz.” The Scotsman instantly went to decline, but Daisy stopped her brother by putting her hands on his shoulder and meeting his eyes.

 “I know you blame yourself; but, as I said, you have nothing to apologise for. I just – if this can work…. Please, Fitz.” She was desperate to at least try this idea. To try this plan. If she thought her plan to get you out was insane, this topped that by a mile.

  “Do you need anything else?” She asked her siblings as they worked on brining you back. So far, they had taken blood from Daisy, along with a machine Fitz had that took some memories of hers of you and what you had missed in order to help you remember everything.

 “Remember, it might take a while to –” She slammed the button as soon as your body came into existence.

 It took a moment; a long moment, before your eyes opened. You looked around the room, trying to figure out where you were, before you met the eyes of Daisy.

 “Daisy…” You breathed out, and instantly hugged her. You let out a laugh as you did so, relishing in seeing her again.

 Daisy hugged you back just as tight, just happy to have you back in her life once again. Even if you weren’t fully you, it didn’t matter to her.

 Her sister was back; her first sister was home. She could be whole again.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

where the grass is greener

[sebastian x reader]

author’s note: just a quick thing i wrote over the last couple days, idk where the sudden inspo came from but enjoy <3

word count: 4,532

The twinkling lights of Zuzu City are the stars of some faraway galaxy, and Sebastian wishes he were an astronaut.

He’s yearning for the great beyond, and that’s the natural course of things, isn’t it? To look past the edges of the world within reach, and hope to one day explore the unknown, a search for life, for the future, for a place to call home. The rolling hills of the valley never seem more restrictive or suffocating than when he stands here, high on a cliff, elevated enough to view the bustling city. For a while now he has felt an urge deep in his gut to go there and experience a life so different from his own as it is currently, with the noise and the vastness. The mountains are walls keeping him contained and in the hours that bleed into days that bleed into weeks, he resolves that he’ll break past them when he’s older, and he’ll set course for his goal, for those glittering skyscrapers. What should he name his space shuttle?

Winters in Pelican Town are a special kind of cold, colder than normal due to the basin-like structure with the mountains on either side. The cold crawls in, settling at ground level, and the heat rises and seeps out. Pelican Town, sitting right in the middle, is forced to deal with the remaining chill.  

This morning, the tip of Sebastian’s nose is flushed red from the harsh winter wind. His preference for not wearing scarves leaves him with nothing with which to shield the sensitive skin of his face. It may reasonably be believed, then, that this is cause to hasten his trek to the town center, but his decision to take the long way into town serves evidence to the contrary.

An old man had once owned the large farm to the west, but since his passing, the weeds have festered, and the few buildings on the property are in various states of disrepair. Sebastian walks by on occasion, observing the debris and decay. In winter, the weeds have rotted away and left the wide field barren save for rocks and stray logs. But by spring, they’d be back, and perhaps the new bursts of color from the trees still standing there will lessen the eyesore the steading has become.

Some nights Sebastian comes here to sit with himself and think because he knows he won’t be disturbed. No one comes this way anymore. He likes to sit on the edge of the porch and observe the expanse before him. The small house behind him has darkened windows, once illuminated with a soft yellow glow in the late hours. If Sebastian were to pull open the door (which would require some tools, given that it’s been boarded up, though acquiring them wouldn’t be an issue given his mom’s profession) and glance inside, there would only be cobwebs and silence.

The ponds on the property are frozen and snow clings to dead tree branches and Sebastian can see it all even without the aid of lights, for there are hardly any in this tiny town. Instead, the moon is the main source, a gentle white glow washing over the farm. Sebastian takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales steadily. The cloud of smoke looks like a puff of air similarly breathed out in cold weather like this, except without the numbness he loves to find in the stick between his fingers. His brows furrow and he glances down, flicking off the ash. It lands on his jeans. Is he just tired all the time, or has he been carrying a pack of sleeping aids in his pocket?

Tired of this place… Sebastian huffs, is faintly amused, is exhausted.

Spring arrives and with it, another year bundled together with another bout of wishful thinking. Sam’s sitting by his desk, one leg crossed over the other and strumming lazily at his guitar. Sebastian sprawls out on the bed, staring at the ceiling and focusing on the sensation of the blood rushing to his head. They’ve been looking into securing a small gig in the city, nothing too big, but something to get their name out there. It stirs Sebastian’s thoughts of moving to Zuzu City permanently, and he loses himself in them as Sam experiments with riffs for the opening of their newest song.

A wrong note is plucked and Sam curses under his breath, then with a heavy sigh he sits up straight to stretch out his spine. During this momentary break, he seems to remember something, for once he relaxes, he grabs Sebastian’s attention.

“Hey, did you hear?”

Sebastian hums and he isn’t certain whether it’s meant to be a hum of question (Hear what?) or of half-hearted approval (That progression sounded good). Perhaps it’s neither, merely a signal to show he’s actually awake, listening for whatever Sam has to say.

“Someone’s moving onto the farm this week.”

Upon this revelation, Sebastian feels a mild irritation. He’d enjoyed having time to himself on that property. It offered an isolation he couldn’t get anywhere else in town, since he was basically the only person to bother passing through. The only ones to know about his late night visits to the abandoned farmstead are Sam and Abigail, but they don’t interrupt him when he’s there, understanding his need for space. Now, however, Sebastian would have to return to the train tracks.

“So the old man did have relatives after all,” he comments quietly.

The reason nothing had been done to the property is that no one in Pelican Town had the authority. After the previous owner’s death, the land had come into the possession of his family. The news had been passed along to said family a while ago, but there wasn’t a response, nor did anyone even come to appraise the farm with the intention of selling it. So there it remained, untouched for months, long enough that some grew skeptical that anyone would ever come to reclaim it.

Sam chuckles. “Guess so. But you have to wonder why now.”

“Yeah…”

If Zuzu City is a galaxy, you’re an asteroid drifting away from that system into the vacuum of space, floating aimlessly until you’re pulled into the orbit of another. And perhaps it is your aspirations and dreams of what you hope to find in this sleepy town that reside within the shooting star Sebastian sees pass overhead a few nights later, outshining the rest who hang in place.

Though if Sebastian’s honest, he has no idea what dreams might involve the valley and the town. It might be a great place for tourists to visit, sure, to bask in the quiet and the freshness, a temporary change of pace from the city. But for him, the quiet is too overbearing to stay here, and he wants to get away. He’d like to switch places with you. You, for some reason, have growing interest in the country life, and he has always had vested interest in the city life. A fair trade, right?

You’ve got quite the fixer-upper to take care of, that’s for certain. However, the sheer amount of work it will require to get the farmstead in an acceptable state doesn’t appear to deter you. You make many trips into town to buy supplies, and Sebastian has seen you when you stopped by his mom’s shop, the two of you working out blueprints for adding a new water well here or a chicken coop there.

The first time he spotted you had been in passing as he ascended the stairs from his room with the plan to get lunch from the kitchen (his first meal of the day). He heard the front door open and close and his mom’s friendly greeting, and he turned to see you walk right up to the counter she stood behind.

You didn’t look like someone from the city. He wouldn’t have guessed that you were if he hadn’t been told previously by Sam, who’d heard it from his mom, who’d heard it from Pierre. You wore a yellow t-shirt beneath light blue overalls (scuffs and dirt marks already marred the denim), the bottoms of which were rolled up neatly, and a pair of dirtied work boots. A red backpack sat on your shoulders and you had your hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

He briefly listened to your conversation, and you sounded bubbly, excited as you shared your ideas for repairing the farm. And he still might not understand why you had the dreams you did of leaving the city and coming to Stardew Valley, but they’re yours, and you’re making them real, and he’d never fault anyone for that.

Day by day, new life is breathed into the steading you’ve come to call your own. The rocks and logs have been cleared out and you’ve set aside a small section to grow crops. There’s a fenced off area designated to be the site of a new chicken coop, with work beginning tomorrow. You even have a dog now, a stray Marnie came across and brought to your doorstep. Her name’s Daisy. She follows you into town sometimes.

Sebastian sees you often but hasn’t talked to you, other than a curt hello during your first meeting. The short of it is that he doesn’t have much interest in being your friend. He likes his small friend group, and when he isn’t hanging out with them, he’s perfectly content to be alone in his room. Maru brings up over dinner how nice you are, having stopped by the clinic earlier to drop off a basket of strawberries. Then she turns to him and mentions how he really should talk to you because You’ll like her, she’s sweet! But instead of convincing him, it does the opposite and only continues to dissuade him, and he merely sighs, shrugging noncommittally.

Sam and Abigail have taken a liking to you too. They wave you over on a Friday night at the saloon, and you join them in the game room. You excuse yourself from a conversation with Gus and walk over, but once you see Sebastian, you slow down, standing by the doorway. Grinning politely, you lift a hand to wave and give a quiet hello. Evidently you’ve been able to sense Sebastian’s disinterest in you, having kept a similar distance as he at any other time. But tonight, given Sam and Abigail’s invitation, such a distance would be impossible to maintain.

The two of them tell you to relax, and Abigail assures with a laugh Don’t worry, Sebastian doesn’t bite! and you chuckle good-naturedly but Sebastian can surmise you are nervous. For Sam and Abigail’s sakes, he will be a good sport and be friendly. He’s not so childish as to carry on as if you aren’t there. So with a smile, he grabs another pool stick for you.

“We can reset the game,” he informs you as you gently take the stick. “Sam was getting his ass kicked; I was expecting him to ask for a do-over soon anyway.”

“Wha—I was not!”

After that, Sebastian is considerably less averse to speaking with you if you happen to run into each other. He’s still curt, and never tries to carry on a conversation longer than the basic hello’s and how-are-you’s. You don’t push or pry either, to get him to open up, and he appreciates that. You understand he likes his space, and you let him have it.

Ultimately, it’s Sam who encourages him to get to know you better, and he won’t take no for an answer. She’s got plenty of stories to tell about the city, he remarks. I’m sure she’d be happy to share them if you asked.

Sebastian begrudgingly agrees to have an actual conversation with you the next time he’s able to, and he already knows he can’t lie and pretend that he has because you’re friends with Sam, and Sam will inevitably ask if you and he have talked lately. Though ironically, after this, Sebastian doesn’t see you a lot. The end of the season has you scrambling to harvest and ship the remaining crops, and your farm has grown quickly since you’ve been here, which means you’re out in the field most days.

It isn’t until the final day of summer that Sebastian gets the chance. The appearance of the moonlight jellies has everyone out on the beach this evening. Multiple lanterns have been placed on the water to provide better illumination, both for the purpose of viewing the jellyfish and to ensure no one accidentally slips off the edge of the docks. You’re one of the last to arrive, looking tired but satisfied as you speak with Elliott. You make your rounds saying hi and sheepishly brushing off comments on your diligence in preparing the farm for the next season.

Conversations die down to quiet murmurs as the ethereal glow of the jellyfish illuminates the water. Sebastian notices you in his peripherals coming to a stop a few feet away, sitting down and letting your feet dangle over the edge. He hesitates momentarily, but takes a deep breath, resolving himself to just do it, and, sticking his hands in his pockets, he walks towards you.

His boots thud quietly on the wood but if you notice, you don’t react. Not until he talks.

“No Daisy tonight?”

You blink and glance up to see him standing next to you, at a far enough distance that you don’t need to crane your head back painfully to meet his eyes. At his question, you smile lopsidedly and shake your head.

“No, she was too tired to come. She’s been working hard all day.” Usually Daisy accompanies you to the beach, running up and down the shore while you get comfortable on the docks, fishing rod and bag of bait in hand.

Sebastian smiles too, then points at the space to your left. “Mind if I join you?”

“Oh, of course!” You scoot over slightly as Sebastian sits down. The jellyfish are closer now.

“I was thinking of bringing her tomorrow,” you continue the original topic regarding your dog. “To take in that crisp fall air.” The humidity of summer had been fading this past week, leaving in its wake a colder, fresher breeze.

“I bet she’d really like that.” Sebastian might not have much to say, but what he does, he finds himself saying with ease. Perhaps it’s due to to the relief of tension now that he’s finally talked to you past a few courteous remarks, that he’s no longer anticipating the moment because it has already come to pass. And suddenly the prospect of talking to you more doesn’t seem so bad, despite his initial reservations.

“I hope so,” you respond quietly. You flash him a quick smile, then you both turn your attention on the ocean.

The approaching jellyfish are soundless, and with everyone silent, all that can be heard is the gentle lapping of the waves on the support beams of the docks. Spots of light move beneath the surface, the blurry forms of moonlight jellies venturing closer. They pass beneath your dangling feet and the lanterns on the water are poor competition for these creatures.

Sebastian feels you tap on his shoulder a couple of times to grab his attention, and he glances at you. But you draw his attention back to the jellyfish, pointing at one in the distance. Whereas most of the jellies are blue, as is their natural coloring, you’ve spotted a lone green jellyfish. Sebastian smiles and whispers you have a good eye. He’s not sure if anyone else has noticed, but he doesn’t bother to speak up, the silence so full of awe and wonder that he doesn’t want to break it.

The jellyfish congregate near the docks, as if to say goodbye, then slowly they drift back out to sea, and maybe the galaxy called Pelican Town has its own twinkling lights right here.

Green leaves fade to brown in the following days. They detach from the branches and float to the ground, and they’re the satisfying crunch beneath Sebastian’s shoes. The temperature has dropped quickly, and many townsfolk are bundling up to fend off the impending winter chill. The Stardew Valley fair comes and goes, and Sebastian doesn’t understand quite how to appraise the grange displays, but from the passing comments he overhears from Lewis, you put up an impressive arrangement for your first year. However, you don’t win, coming second to Pierre (it was close though).

Sebastian waits to the side as all the participants are given ribbons. You saunter over to him afterward, red ribbon in hand, and Sebastian pulls out his hands from the pocket of his hoodies to clap a few times. You smile shyly and rub the back of your neck, muttering a thanks.

“Hey, not bad for your first go of it,” he commends.

You shrug as you glance down at the ribbon. “I’ll win next year,” you resolve, and he doesn’t doubt it one bit.

The next event on everyone’s minds the second the sun sets on the valley fair is that of Spirit’s Eve. Sam, in particular, has begun to brainstorm costume ideas, first only for himself until he proposes a group costume—for him, Abigail, Sebastian, and you. He starts rattling off movies and games from which to draw inspiration, and Sebastian guesses he was meant to give his approval (or disapproval) for each idea, but Sam is listing them so quickly, excited as he is, that Sebastian hardly gets the opportunity to speak up. But he’s fine with simply listening.

“We really should have a costume contest,” Sam murmurs, voice low in a way that Sebastian isn’t sure if he’s talking to himself. “I wonder if I could ask the mayor to have one this year…”

Sebastian chuckles before he sits up and stands from Sam’s bed. He stretches his arms above his head and glances out the window: it’s completely dark out. The daylight is minimal this time of year, so this fact isn’t satisfactory evidence for the time of night. Rather, it’s the glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand that alerts Sebastian that it’s time to leave, for it’s growing late.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” he announces once Sam’s rambling has quieted down.

Sam nods and stands up as well to walk Sebastian to the front door, but pauses with his hand on the doorknob of his room as he twists around.

“You wouldn’t be taking the long way to your house, would you?”

Sebastian tilts his head. Walking past the farm? He hasn’t done that since you moved in. “I wasn’t planning to. Why?”

“Well it’s just my mom patched up one of [Name]’s shirts and asked if I could give it to her when I see her, but I figure if you’re going to pass by tonight…”

Sebastian nods. “Sure.”

With a smile, Sam picks up a folded long-sleeve from his desk and hands it to Sebastian. “Thanks, man.”

It feels strange to make his way towards the bus stop instead of the park on his way back. He hadn’t taken this route for almost a year, having never been one of the people to pay a visit to your farm. He’s not sure why he never did. Perhaps he didn’t want to be a bother. You’d always given him his space, and he figured it would only be right for him to do the same in return. Though unlike him, you never shy away from visitors, always glad to greet whoever comes over for a quick chat. So perhaps you won’t mind. Hopefully. The last thing he wants is to be in your way.

He’s unsure if you’ll even be awake at this time because you work a lot, and it leaves you exhausted. You don’t tend to stay up late. But as he approaches your farm, he not only spots the light shining through the windows, he sees you sitting on the edge of the porch, right where he has sat so many times prior.

He calls out your name to grab your attention and you look over, smiling when you see him.

“What’s up?" you ask as he comes closer, and your smile widens when he holds out your shirt. “Oh, Jodi’s fixed it! That was fast… I’ll have to bake her a cake to say thanks.” Then you turn to Sebastian and thank him for dropping it off.

But he’s not in a rush to leave, and he inquires what it is you’re doing staying out here so late. You shrug. Just basking in the quiet I guess… and taking it all in. You motion to the field, and Sebastian understands why you’re content to sit and observe the fruits of your labor. He hardly recognizes the expanse, so different from the way it was just a year ago. You’ve poured your love into it and it shows.

“You deserve to be proud of it.”

You smile and the lack of lights conceals the reddening of your cheeks at the compliment. Momentarily your eyes are downcast at the ground, but then they slide back up to observe Sebastian standing there. You take the thermos next to you and hold it out.

“Hot chocolate. Want some?”

He glances at the thermos but shakes his head no thanks, and you retract your hand. The nights are increasingly colder as winter nears, and even if he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans, you’re certain that he’s feeling the brunt of the weather. You speak up again.

“Okay. But it is cold and, well…” You grab the edge of the large, fluffy blanket around your shoulders and stretch out your arm to extend it. “There’s room for two.”

Sebastian catches on to your efforts to ensure he doesn’t freeze, and while he isn’t bothered to stand in the chill for a few minutes, he appreciates your gestures and agrees to this one, closing the gap between you in a several short steps and settling down on the porch. You drop the blanket around his shoulders as well, and both of you look out on the farmstead. In place of weeds and stray rocks are crops and pastures for the animals you’ve started raising. You’ve mentioned before they can be a handful given how many there are when there’s just one of you, but you’re happy to have them. And Daisy helps with the herding at the end of the day, so it could be worse!

The silence is comfortable, but Sebastian finally breaks it.

“Why’d you leave?”

You glance at him, confused as to what he’s referring to. He elaborates.

“The city.” He turns his eyes from the field to you. “What made you want to come to the valley? I mean… it’s so quiet, too quiet sometimes. I’ve always wanted to move to Zuzu City. I want to get away from here. But you did the exact opposite.”

This is the most he has ever opened up to you, and it surprises him how easily it slips out. But it’s too late to take back the words now, as they hang in the air between you, and his breath catches in his throat because, frankly, he’s embarrassed. He’s never this quick to share his feelings, his thoughts, his one wish to leave this sleepy town and not look back. And he’s worried what you’ll say, what you’ll think, of the candidness springing up from nowhere.

You don’t respond immediately, which fuels his concerns even more, but he realizes it’s the time spent putting your own words together carefully, as you smile gently, a reassurance that it’s okay to talk about these things. You’ll listen to whatever he has to say, and you’ll still be there even if he says nothing.

With a deep sigh, you face forward again to survey the farm. And you explain to Sebastian that you’d been in the city your whole life. Before your grandfather passed away, he left you a letter with explicit instructions only to open it when you grew tired of the hustle and bustle, of the fast pace of the city and the same thing day-in, day-out at your corporate job. I thought I could handle it, you muse, but I just cracked one day. One boring day… I can’t even remember if it was a Wednesday or a Friday because they all felt the same. You chuckle dryly.

Sebastian is watching you closely, patiently waiting for you to continue. You’ve followed his lead and opened up, and he has found himself intensely curious to discover more about you.

You take another deep breath, acutely aware of the crisp air that floods your lungs. “In the letter, he called the valley the place where he truly belonged. And I thought maybe it would be the same for me.” You stay quiet after this for several moments, both of you contemplating what you’ve said, but then you perk up and look at him. “Of course, if you want to go to Zuzu City, if you truly feel you’ll thrive there, then go. I’m not trying to dissuade you.”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to give you a smile of reassurance. He has taken no offense to the story you shared. He understands where you come from. People are different, have different desires and goals. But he’s not ready to turn the conversation on himself, still wanting to focus on you, if only for a minute or three longer.

“Is it the same for you?” he inquires quietly. “Do you feel this is where you truly belong?”

It’s a reasonable follow-up to your story, yet it still gives you pause and you mull it over. Even before you speak, Sebastian can already see the answer in the softening features of your face, as you stare at the field you have worked so hard to turn into something worthwhile. He’s not sure what you’re thinking, but he’d like to have penny for your thoughts because your eyes slide towards him now, and they are fond and your smile is soft and he wonders if it means anything.

“Yes,” you state finally. “I think it is.”

You watch each other, and the corner of Sebastian’s lips lifts in a small smile, unable to be contained after witnessing yours. His chest tightens and he wonders if all this—the town and the valley and him and you—if maybe it means everything. Because the air seems fresher and the moon seems brighter and he finds he doesn’t want to lift off in his space shuttle if it takes him farther away from you. So maybe he’ll stay on the ground just a little longer.

He drops his gaze to the thermos you hold. “I’ll take some of that hot chocolate if you’re still offering.”

You laugh and nod, twisting off the lid. “Yeah, here, hold on…”

The autumn evening is beautiful, and for once, the valley feels like home.

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Mafia (Part VIII/XI [Alt Endings])

Notes: Hi! So I definitely was never expecting Mafia to get popular or for anyone to enjoy it as I thought it might’ve been too violent. I also want to note, as I don’t think I was clear, that this was requested by @mrskamilxh and the original idea was not mine. I’m actually happily surprised by the positive feedback on this series because it grew on me as I wrote it, although I still think some chapters were better than others. I will post the three alternate ending either across the day tomorrow or throughout the week, once all three endings are posted I will make a masterlist for the whole series. On some unrelated notes, I strained my right shoulder/upper back today during a workout so that either means there will be lots of new fics coming in the next week and a half or I will go MIA for a while, just a heads up. I’m also not super duper proud of this chapter, I feel it was kind of rushed but again, I will reiterate, keep your expectations of me low and I mean boots with the fur low low low low. 

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy Johnson)

Tags: @mrskamilxh @cheeto-choices @slytherinthoughts7 @made-me-deep-blue @scarlet-letter-a0114 @lightning-fury @uselesslesbianfr @kamilah-sayeed-let-me-love-you @bellaraines @kamilahsayeet2063 @nydeiri 

Warnings: Violence, Language (I wouldn’t recommend this series for anyone who has military PTSD or any sort of trigger from violence as this is based in a fairly violent environment)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

“We have to move locations, Darius, we’ve been compromised.” Kamilah pulled Darius aside from the rest of the members, he gave her a knowing smile.

“I saw her outside. You call that a kiss?” Darius smirked as Kamilah whacked him on the shoulder, shooting him an eye roll.

“Shut up.” They broke into laughter, as they called attention to the rest of the mafia members. 

-----FBI HQ-----

“Did you find a location, Detective Johnson?” Leo stood across from Amy, his hands folded on the desk as he held out photographs of familiar mafia members. Amy’s eyes roamed the pictures, her heart nearly stopping at the picture of Kamilah, she slowed her breathing so she wouldn’t turn pink.

“Yes, they moved back into an abandoned base. I was able to get in and out undetected.” Amy sat back in her chair triumphantly, Jackson patting her on the back firmly. 

“Good, we’ll send a squad in quickly to secure the area. Maybe they’ll leave a trail to their next location there.” Leo stood up, reaching out to give Amy a handshake. Amy smiled, giving a firm handshake to Leo before retreating into her office. 

She pulled out her phone, turning off wireless network connection before texting ‘Holland Jaeger.’

All clear, better get moving. 

Will do. Are you going to rendezvous with us? 

I’m not sure. I don’t want to leave a trail or blow my cover. 

A knock on the door caused Amy to nearly drop her phone, she jumped out of her seat as Jackson slowly opened the door. 

“Good work Amy. Maybe we can corner the Mafia Dealer and end her once and for all.” Jackson grabbed Amy’s shoulder firmly, causing her to suddenly flinch. “Whoa there. You seem hella tense, what’s up?” Jackson swung a wooden chair in front of Amy, sitting down while resting his hands on his quad. 

“PTSD I guess? Kamilah may not have killed me but she still dished out an ass whooping.” Amy’s voice softened, remembering how it felt to have Kamilah’s hand smack her across her face. Her mind drifted to Kamilah’s warmth, her heated gaze, her eyes, her lips, her sweet soft lips..

“Amy? Do you need a medic?” Jackson appeared next to her, concern written across his chiseled face. Amy stood up from her desk, her cheeks a faint blush as a smile creeped onto her face as she got herself a bottle of water from the mini fridge. 

“No I’m okay. I’m just excited? It seems everything is working out perfectly in our favor.” She gave him a small smile.  Jackson stood, moved towards the door, giving Amy a firm nod of approval before exiting. Amy plonked herself back into her chair as she closed her eyes. 

----Kamilah----

“I think you’ve outdone yourself Kamilah,” Darius placed a wood crate down in the doorway of an abandoned warehouse in Staten Island, he took off his jacket, placing it on a dusty table, before turning back to Kamilah who was hastily typing on her phone. “Is it her? You know...the other members...you can’t let them know. Not now at least…” Darius walked over to the crate, using a crowbar to open it. He examined the guns inside, matte black with embroidered gold initials and symbols. 

“They won’t know Darius and they answer to me, not the other way around.” Kamilah put her phone in her pocket, exchanging her M-9 for the black one with her engraved initials. She placed it in her concealed holster before walking towards Darius, “anyways we have a task at hand. We need to lie low until she gets them off our back.” 

“That won’t be easy, we’re so used to gunfights and not laying low.” Darius let out a sigh, crossing his arms as gazed to the floor. 

“Nothing is ever easy for us Darius,” Kamilah gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “nothing worth having was easy to get...don’t you want to lose the FBI?” 

“And if it’s a trap?”

“We’ll have another fight on our hands.” Kamilah had a devilish grin on her face, Darius shook his head before grinning back. 

“So we each need an alias’...cover stories..definitely some accessories…” Kamilah walked out to the truck where a few other members waited patiently for orders. They turned and nodded silently as Kamilah approached, lowering their weapons in her presence. 

“Your orders Miss Sayeed?” 

“Lie low.” A murmur arose from the mafia members, angry and confused looks written on their faces. Kamilah took a deep breath, waving her hand for their attention again. “That doesn’t mean function under the law, it just means anything that would leave an obvious trail to us. This is New York, crime happens all the time. Don’t let it get traced to us.” The members hesitated before nodding, giving Kamilah their silent approval. She pulled Darius aside, handing him a file.

“Here, can you create some alias’? I’m assuming nobody is going to remain in a legal state so we should be prepared.” Kamilah folded her hands behind her back and Darius nodded before retreating to the hideout. 

Kamilah checked her phone, wanting to text Amy, to know she was safe from the FBI. The thought danced in her mind as she resumed her normal assignments, plotting the occasional “disappearance” along with more illegal exchanges. She unloaded file after file, debriefings and mafia member profiles, among crucial government members that were high ranked. She tossed most of them aside before revealing Keeping you a Secret from the bottom. She sighed softly to herself, reminiscing on the feeling of Amy, the way she tasted, the softness in her touch. 

“God I hope I’m not wrong about you Amy..” Kamilah jumped at the sound of gunfire, screams and running. She grabbed an assault rifle and moved towards the commotion. Darius leaned against the doorframe, his hand covering his stomach as he gave Kamilah a knowing look. 

“Kamilah you have to go…” He grimaced, pain written across his face, he pulled his hand back revealing two deep bullet wounds, “there’s too many...you won’t make it out alive…” He paused, his eyes near watery, he took a deep breath before moving towards Kamilah, attempting to push her towards the back door. 

“I’m not sacrificing my team for my own life!” kamilah pulled him into the office, sitting him in the chair before rushing out, “you’re going to be okay!” Her face flared with anger, frustration. “Please don’t be Amy…” She rushed into cover, using the scope of her rifle to assess the situation. 

Mafia members dropped to the ground as what appeared to be twenty FBI agents pressed forward. She looked for Amy, hoping this hadn't been her idea, praying she wasn’t turning on her, that the kiss meant something. “I can never catch a break can I..?” She whispered before shooting, striking down 5 agents before ducking again. 

She peered over the side as she heard tires screeching and Amy’s familiar voice calling out. 

“Stop! Stop firing!” Kamilah watched as Amy ran out of the car, rushing to stand in front of the FBI members, “Kamilah? Kamilah?!” Amy rushed towards the house, Kamilah keeping her cover out of caution. She wanted to run to Amy, pull her close but she couldn’t take that risk, not now. “Kamlah come on!” Amy pleaded, her eyes near watery. Kamilah thought what did it matter, most of her team was dead or had fled, she didn’t have much to lose. 

“Here.” 

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 36

After that night in the ICU, Alexa never left Rafael’s side, after they removed the ventilator and began breathing on his own; he was still unconscious even though all vital signs were normal.

Ultimately, they moved him into a room where he joined Alexa and Nadia, in hindsight, the doctors felt if he was surrounded by the positive energy and abundance of affection of loved ones; that the chances of him waking up would increase.

From that day forward, Alexa cared for their daughter, feeding, changing and singing soothing lullabies; during the infant’s peaceful slumber, her body sat itself at Rafael’s bedside.

Her fingers gingerly stroked his hair, words of love and encouragement fell from her lips while displays of affection, whether it was a kiss upon his hand or laying her head upon his chest, were added on.

At one point, Alexa brought Nadia over to him and nuzzled her against his chest, in the hopes that feeling her tiny body pressed against his would remind him that he had something worth fighting for, meanwhile, members of SVU and Olivia graced the small family with their presence offering additional words of comfort and support.

On a mild spring day, Alexa received word that she and Nadia were to be discharged, a feeling of disappointment ensued at the prospect of the two of them leaving without Rafael, as Nadia laid in her bassinet, Alexa was packing up their things in a duffel bag.

Her eyes looked upward at the figure that was hooked up to monitors, lying in his bed motionless with some scruff developing along his jawline. She sighed as the last of their belongings were packed away, then a knock at the door suddenly caused her to pause.

An unsettling knot tugged in the pit of her stomach when her peripheral vision caught sight of a familiar figure standing in the doorway, he was the same tall, brooding man Rafael and Alexa crossed paths with that day at the OB’s office; the DA, Robert Davalos. He met Alexa’s gaze with a look of sympathy, all the while, he was carrying a bouquet of white lilies; after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke:

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you…is it alright if I come in?”

Alexa nodded but remained guarded.

Davalos trekked across the room, then stopped at the foot of the bed, his attention drifted to Nadia, to which a small smile appeared.

“She’s beautiful, you and Rafael did well”

“Thank you” Alexa tipped her chin to point to the flowers in his hand then asked, “Who are the flowers for?”

“Well…they’re for you…a little birdie told me that these are your favorite” Davalos handed her the floral arrangement, cautiously, Alexa took them from his hands. A cloud of suspicion loomed as she internally tried to deduce his reasons for expressing an act of kindness. Curiosity got the better of her, so she blurted out:

“Why are you here?”

Davalos sighed, “I came here to make amends…I know our initial encounter was less than pleasant and when I heard about the shooting, it suddenly made me realize that Rafael is a good man, one of the best prosecutors I have had the pleasure of working with and it was wrong of me to pressure him into dropping the case…even if the perp was a son of a close friend of mine. I understand now that he needed to do what was done in the pursuit of justice”

Alexa was stunned, here it was, the man who caused Rafael so much grief a few weeks ago, a man who caused her so much distrust; and yet he was extending an olive branch. However, the suspicious nature of this endeavor still lingered within Alexa’s mind, but right now, she needed to concentrate on getting everything prepared for Nadia’s first day home; Alexa put on her game face then thanked him for the lilies and the support.

“I promise, I will do everything in my power to bring the individuals responsible for this tragedy”

“Thank you…that means a lot, and I know Rafael would appreciate that”

It was then a nurse appeared with a wheelchair in tow, coming up behind her was Olivia carrying a car seat built for a newborn, as soon as she saw Davalos; the two share curt nods as she made her way towards mother and child.

“So, are we ready to go?”

“Almost, I just have to pack a few more things”

Olivia nodded, she watched Alexa set down the bouquet of flowers and stuff a few more items in her duffel, after it was zipped up, she walked over to the bassinet and picked up the sleeping baby.

With Nadia carefully strapped in, she passed it off to Liv, before getting into the wheelchair, Alexa stepped towards Rafael’s bed; her expression saddened as she stroked his prickly cheek and planted a small kiss on his forehead.

The nurse helped Alexa into the wheelchair as Olivia set Nadia’s car seat into her lap, she pointed towards the bed where the lilies that Davalos brought and the duffel bag remained, with the bag strapped across Liv’s shoulder and the flowers in hand, the trio began to make their way out of the room, until she noticed that the DA was falling behind.

“Are you coming?”

“In a minute, I just want to have a moment with him”

The room became empty aside from the DA and his predecessor, he stood at his side and let out a short breath, but then, as he stared down at Rafael’s pale complexion; he chuckled. It was as if the sight of Rafael looking so frail and vulnerable gave him some sort of amusement, he leaned over to where he was within inches of Rafael’s face.

“Rafael Barba…the fearless prosecutor of Manhattan, look at you now. It’s sad, you had so much potential…but lesson learned right” he snickered. “Truth be told, the plan was to attack your weak spot…your precious Alexa, but dear old Darrell, you remember Darrell, don’t you? Well, anyway…he’s got a soft spot for women, especially when they’re pregnant…but don’t worry, I’ll look in on them from time to time…take care of the missus during her time of need” suddenly there was a spike in the monitor, Davalos looked on in confusion just as Rafael’s eyes fluttered open, he was still weak but gathered up enough strength to declare:

“Not if you were the last man on earth”

“You may be right…glad to see you’re still with us. You know how easy it would be to kill you right now, but that’d be too easy…and just so you know, if your goon squad manages to sustain charges against me…it’ll never hold up in court. I’m going to be sticking around for a long time”

Davalos turned on his heel and exited the room, Rafael struggled to reach for the call button, once it was within his grasp, he pressed it; Alexa and company were halfway down the hall when another nurse came running. Olivia noticed the direction she was heading in and stopped her midway.

“Excuse me, what’s going on?”

“We got a call from Mr. Barba’s room”

“What is it? Is there something wrong with Rafael?”

“We don’t know, the doctor is in route and I’m heading down there now”

Alexa became flooded with worry and demanded that they take her back to his room, reluctantly the nurse followed in the same direction as her coworker with Olivia trailing behind, half way down, they ran into Davalos; who displayed a look of concern at the situation transpiring.

“What’s happening?”

“Nurse got a call from Barba’s room, we’re heading back there now”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I got this…thanks”

Within minutes, there was a small crowd of people surrounding Rafael’s bed, his doctor and the nurse they ran into earlier were checking his vital signs, Alexa tried to get a better view of what was happening but was blocked, ultimately, she asked to be let through.

Once everyone cleared out, Alexa’s nurse rolled her up to Rafael’s side, her eyes lit up at the sight before her, his green eyes opened as he turned to face Alexa, her own eyes began to fill up with tears. The onlookers smiled collectively at the little reunion, but it was Alexa’s smile that shined brightly of them all, Rafael smiled weakly as Alexa reached up and palmed her hand against his face, thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“Hi”

“Hi”

Suddenly, soft cooing started coming from Nadia’s car seat, Alexa asked Olivia to help her out of it, Olivia obliged and gently removed the tiny infant from the carrier. After it was set down on the floor, Alexa cradled Nadia within her arms, wrapped in a pink blanket and a small beanie placed on her soft head; Rafael’s heart swelled with the warmth that a father receives when gazing upon their child for the first time, Alexa looked down at their child and said:

“Nadia, this is your daddy…say hello”

“Hello mi niña hermosa”

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @teamsladsandgents @madamsnape921 @thatesqcrush @glimmerglittergirl @beccabarba

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 7

This story follows a prompt by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 7): 3,634

Word Count (Total): 21,794

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), this part also includes semi-graphic discussion of past torture.

***

12th April, 1998 (continued)

The walk to wherever it is we are going is draining. Having not left the house in a while, I blink a couple of times at the street in front of me. Somehow, I forgot where we are. I forgot that I am staying with Harry Potter, in a dingy street in muggle London. I worry about my appearance. But not in the way I would’ve used to. It’s not the vain, arrogant concern I had earlier this year, but rather being terrified of standing out. If someone caught a glimpse of my white-blond hair, or the distasteful and regretful tattoo inked across my arm, I would be in trouble. But as we pass an abandoned house with the windows still in tact, I glimpse my reflection. Somehow, I had managed to forget that I am covered head to toe in Glamours. Forgot that my platinum hair is now strawberry blonde, and that my tattoo is invisible underneath red skin.

“Where are we going?” Not where are you taking me? Like it would’ve been a week ago. Before I realised he thought of us as equal. As my deserving to be an equal. I shudder and hope it’s not noticeable.

“A bookstore.”

“A bookstore?” I turn my gaze to the man—no longer a boy, despite his young age—and raise an eyebrow. “That seems kind of random.”

“It’s a special bookstore,” he shrugs. I hold my laugh in, choosing to hide from his gorgeously green eyes. He hasn’t wrapped himself in Glamours like I have. Instead of the cropped sandy-brown I’ve become used to seeing in public, his black hair is hanging loose around his ears. It looks good on him. Oh Merlin.

“What’s so special about it?”

He turns to me, his hand slipping from mine and grabbing my shoulder to make me face him. All for the people who may or may not be watching. Keeping up appearances. “It has books you won’t, you can’t, find anywhere. If you catch what I’m saying.”

I think I understand. Well, it could be one of two things… “Please tell me it’s the former,” I murmur.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. Thinking out loud now too? What is happening to me? Aside from the obvious bone-wing thing.

It starts to rain softly as we walk, but eventually Potter drags me into a little shop in a quaint street. It’s a lot bigger inside than I would’ve thought, and I think of Undetectable Extension charms. The walls are coloured a soft off-white, and the carpet underfoot is a light grey. The whole shop is warm and cozy, welcome despite being the middle of spring. Rows and rows of bookshelves fill the room. There are paper-bound books, leather-bound, and hardcovers. Books that cover every topic imaginable. Some are clearly muggle, with science books explaining the world as well as their range of history. And then there’s books called ‘fantasy’ which seem to be mocking the Wizarding World and twisting it. But muggles don’t know about our world, so maybe they made these all up?

“Draidan?”

I’m pulled from my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. Shaking my head, I look up and see Potter and a woman with light brown hair staring at me. “Sorry. May you repeat that?”

Potter fights a laugh and opens his mouth to speak again. “Draidan, this is Madame Cynthia Owens. She is the owner of Bottomless Books.”

I offer the woman my hand, and she shakes it gladly. “Mr?”

“Malloi. Draidan Malloi.”

“Well, Mr. Malloi, what would you like me to do for you?”

I glance at Potter for a moment. He looks surprised by my quick thinking. Malloi is so similar to Malfoy, I figured it’d be easy to remember. It also helps that I used it as an alias whenever I left the Manor, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I was hoping you had some books on-”

“Salazar Slytherin,” Potter cuts in. I shoot him a glare. That wasn’t at all what I thought we were doing here.

“Oh, well if you would come right this way.” Madame Warren’s behaviour totally shifted. She stood up taller and lead us to the very back of the shop and behind a curtain. “Now boys. This is just like Platform 9 ¾, so run through if you must.”

I’m very confused, but all the same I walk behind the wall. On the other side is another bookshop. It is massive, filled with more books than the Hogwarts Library. They are all neatly arranged and organised, listed alphabetically and in topic.

“We have a very wide range of books from the Wizarding World, what are you after?”

Madame Warren comes back into view behind me, and I stop in my tracks. Her appearance has totally changed. In the first store she looked to be in her late fifties, but here she is clearly in her thirties. Her hair has grown longer and thicker, a sheet across her back. Her clothes have shifted into modern Wizarding attire and her skin has cleared. She catches me looking and nods, a small smile on her face.

“The muggles trust older women the most, so I disguise myself for the front shop. It’s really just a façade, the entire store. My main business is back here, with people like you.”

“So the front bookstore is a muggle one?”

“Correct,” Potter agrees beside me. When did he get so close? “It is designed to lure people in, and if you say something clearly Wizarding you are taken back here.”

“Why did you choose Salazar of all things?”

He has the sense to look a little sheepish.

“A week ago after we bought your potions, I sent Cynthia a letter. We agreed that Salazar Slytherin would be our password so she’d know it was us.”

“Yes, it saves me having to question customers about who they are.” Madame Warren smiles. “So, back to business,” she quirks an eyebrow, and I remember her asking what we were after.

“Of course. We were hoping you might have some books on fallen angels.”

“Ooh. I’ll have to ask you some questions then.”

“Peter is really the one to ask,” I say, quickly drawing her attention away from myself and towards the man next to me.

“Draidan’s right, but he will have to answer some I can’t.” His stern gaze turns to me before looking back at Madame Warren. “It’s for his friend,” he rushes to explain.

“Of course,” she readily accepts the lie. “What specifically were you after?”

I watch as they both turn away and walk along one of the rows near us. There is a black sign reading ‘Fantastical Creatures’ in white letters above the place they stop. Deciding that I don’t want to watch them contemplate books any more than I have to, I turn around and scan through the books. The section I’m in is labelled ‘Dark Proceedings’. I’m instantly reminded of my father and the reason why I’m here in the first place. A shiver races up my spine and I hurriedly move down the shelf. The new section is ‘Solving Inquiries’ and I sigh to myself in exasperation before reading through the titles. I’m so predictable. The only books I ever read are Auror novels, wizards trying to crack murder cases. It helps make me feel more in control, reading about people taking down men like the ones in the Manor.

One of them stands out to me. It is a book bound in a beautifully deep red, with black letters spelling out ‘Coloured Veins’. Well, that explains the colouring. I flip it over and read through the blurb. It’s about a world not unlike my own, but one of the witches can see people’s emotions by the colour of their veins. She goes her whole life thinking everyone can see them, only to bring it up and be shot down by others around her. Both figuratively and literally. It seems really interesting, so I charm it to float behind me as I continue searching.

***

“You were talking to Madame Warren for a while,” I point out to Potter as we arrive back at his house.

“Yeah, the circumstances are apparently really unusual, so it took a while to find something relevant.”

“Well. What did you find?”

He shakes his head exasperatedly. “There is a book dedicated to fallen angels in recovering. Or rising angels, as you know I call them.” I don’t bite back my chuckle, and he smiles at me for a second, making my chest ache. Why though? “Anyway, it details a few things we can do to ease the process and just other information.”

“Great, okay.” I sound a bit flustered to my own ears, and pray Potter doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

“I think I’ll read it first, and then tell you the relevant parts for you to read first. Of course, you can read all of it if you’d like.”

That said, he turns away and walks up the stairs and into the drawing room. I follow after him and take a seat in the armchair next to the sofa. Potter looks up as I sit down, gives me a smile, and opens the book. I pull out my own and flick to the first page of Coloured Veins. In front of the fire, we are very cozy. The silence drifts around us, only broken up by breathing and the occasional crackle.

Hours pass of us sitting kind of near, but also kind of far, from each other. I get through the first few chapters and become hooked, and Potter has been taking messy notes with a weird muggle thing that acts like a quill. He rushes to stand up, the book falling off his lap with a thud.

“I forgot!” He exclaims.

“You forgot what?” I ask without looking up from my novel.

“I need to talk to Hermione!” With no further explanation, we races out of the drawing room and down the stairs. In the distance, the sound of a stone door banging closed reaches my ears. What would he have forgotten about to run to the kitchen? Unless… Surely not. Why would he?

Scolding myself for thinking about it, I return to my book. There was no way he’d told Granger about my back. Either the wings, or the crest. Hopefully not the crest.

***

An hour or so later, Potter returns to the drawing room. Someone follows behind him, and I watch as Granger enters too. She spares me a glance before taking a seat next to Potter in front of the fire. She tsks before raising her wand to it. “Honestly boys. It’s far too hot.” She flicks her wand, but the fire doesn’t go out. Instead, she forms a shield around which catches some of the heat from the flames. It fades from purple to clear, and a smile crosses her face. “Much better.”

“It really didn’t matter…” Potter tries.

“Nonsense. Look at Malfoy.”

He does, and he clearly sees something because he shakes his head and grins. “He looks like Malfoy.”

“I’m right here you know.” I don’t look up from my book, but I can feel him grin and roll his eyes simultaneously.

“We’re aware.” Granger says. “I was merely pointing out that your pink skin has already become whiter.”

I scrunch my nose up before slamming my book closed and standing. “If you need me I’ll be in my bedroom.”

“Actually,” Potter interrupts. “I think you should hear this.”

“Don’t see why…” I murmur. Placing my book down onto the coffee table, I sit back down and glance up at the people in front of me for the first time.

“Because,” Potter explains with an annoyed tone, “it’s about your issue.”

“My issue? Which one?” I ask him in a deadpan voice, eyes meeting his.

“The one concerning your father and Voldemort.” Granger looks amused at our exchange, but I recoil when she says the Dark Lord’s name.

“That quite a few of my problems…” Regardless of my shock, I carry on.

“Haha,” she says, face humourless. “The one where in half a month they want to scream bloody murder in the Unspeakables’ Department.”

“Oh.” That one. I was getting rather good at ignoring it. Guess I have to go back to having nightmares about somehow ending up there and being tortured. Fun. Oh Merlin.

“Yep.” Granger’s voice is way to cheery, and I want to strangle her.

“I was thinking, Malfoy. Could you tell her everything you know about it?”

“But I’ve already told you…?” Potter really wants me to repeat our conversation. The last time I said this I felt awful. Helpless and useless.

“I know, but I want to make sure everything is covered exactly.” His emerald eyes soften, telling me that he knows the pain, but that it’s necessary to take him down.

“Okay, fine.” I take a deep breath and prepare myself to speak.

“The Dark Lord and my father called me into one of their meetings in about, um, the beginning of March?” My hand starts shaking, so I pin carefully move my left to cover the wrist and gently squeeze it. It acts as an anchor, something else to focus on then the conversation I’m being forced into having. Potter is nodding opposite me, his eyes flickering to my wrist for just a second before travelling back up to my eyes. His face turns grim, mouth a thin line, but Granger just nods and jots down notes with her version of Potter’s muggle quill. “They plan to crash the Unspeakables’ Department, which you already knew… The plans were for the start of May, but that could’ve changed.”

“Do you know the exact date?” Granger questions, glancing up at Potter and I.

“If I knew at some point I don’t remember now. It’s definitely in the first week though.” I recall something about it being planned for April, but having to be moved. I think. Replaying that to Granger, I watch as Potter stands and stretches. His muggle shirt lifts and a sliver of stomach is revealed above his jean’s waist. I tear my eyes away, but not before he notices. Fuck. I’ve become slightly addicted to seeing things like that in this past week. Just accidental clothing movement, each time revealing a little bit more skin than is usually visible. And he’s become quite good at catching me. At least he never brings it up.

“I’m going to go fetch tea. Do you want some?” So that’s why he’s getting up. Granger hums in agreement, and I politely accept. Horror races the length of my spine at being left alone, I’m with Granger, but it’s close enough. I force myself to stamp it down.

“Is that the extent of what you know?” Granger asks.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Okay. Could you tell me about their way of life in general?”

“I could. To an extent, of course.”

“My first question will be why, then.” She draws a line across the page and scribbles down a new heading.

“While I was there I was a prisoner. Not a son, or an accomplice, or whatever you probably thought. I was kept in my bedroom all day, and the food was passed in and out in intervals. That was always the scraps of what they fed to their workers. Basically inedible by the time I got it.”

“I see. What effect did that have mentally?”

“I'm not finished with the way they treated me, but if you want to move on…?”

“Oh. I thought that would be all, given your blood and where your loyalties lie.”

I scoff. “They stopped caring about blood. Mine, at least. And my loyalties were proven elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, a look on her face saying that we’ll talk about that last bit later.

“Don’t be.” It was maybe a little harsher than I’d intended, but I’m not taking it back. “I was tortured constantly. That was the only time I was let out of my room. It would last for hours, and nothing, nothing, was considered too bad. Legilimency, the Cruciatus Curse, breaking bones, threatening to bleed me out. I could be here all day,” I explain, the last bit bitter. Extremely so. “I was occasionally permitted leave. I usually took my broom and flew somewhere far away.”

“Why did they let you leave? What if you hadn’t come back?”

“They has trackers on me. And in me. They always knew exactly where I was, and if I wasn’t back in the time limit I’d be cruelly beaten and isolated for days.” Granger’s eyebrows drawn down. “That kept me on schedule every time but once,” I chuckle cruelly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what did they do as punishment?”

Taking a deep breath, I nod solemnly. “I understand that it needs to be said.” She gives me an encouraging but sad smile and ducks her head to write. “I was beaten into unconscious, for a start. Then I was confined to my room, which is pretty normal, now that I look back. Anyway, they came up with some extreme wards. No one except for my father and the Dark Lord could come and go from my room. If I tried I would be electrocuted. And not gently. If that happened four times, I would’ve been instantly killed.” Granger sighs as she writes. “As an extra form of torture, physcological this time, they allowed me to write letters. Allowed me to beg for help on paper, with no way of getting it to someone.”

She takes her muggle quill off the parchment and looks at me. “But you did. You got a letter to Harry, and you are safe. I’m sorry I had to dig this up.”

I nod shakily, clutching at my wrist tighter. “Should I tell you how I got it out? It’s a weak spot into the Manor.”

“If you feel up to it.”

I make myself speak. Everything needs to be out there, in the open, if we are to take them down. “There was a vent in my bedroom’s en-suite. I used some sort of charm, one that emitted green sparks, to push it along the vents. It flew through the kitchen, to the dining room and out of the window. When it blasted through the wards,

somehow undetected, the sparks rebound back into my wand.”

Granger is gobsmacked. “That’s amazing. I’ll need you to tell me about that spell later.” She makes a scribble at the bottom of her page. “So you’re saying, that if we hypothetically shrunk someone down, and somehow got them through the wards, that there’d be a direct route into your bedroom?”

“Yep. Although, it’s quite a long route with many turns. It’d take ages for someone unfamiliar with the Manor to get there. And once there, they wouldn’t be able to do anything. That end of the Manor is essentially just bedrooms for my family. Not to mention the wards.” I shudder.

Granger’s face seems to light up. “What if we, hypothetically again, sent you in?”

“The wards would probably shred me into a million pieces. I’ve no doubt been removed.”

She hums, thinking out loud. “We’ll have to find someone else then. Someone you could help from the outside…” Her muggle quill moves across the page again.

Granger starts firing off more and more questions, this time about the Manor in general. She sketches out a rough floor-plan of the ground level, adding details about the rooms as she goes. Halfway through, Potter returns with three cups of tea. Each of them look and smell different, and he passes them out to all of us. Mine is Peppermint. My absolute favourite at Hogwarts, as my father wouldn’t allow me to drink it at the Manor. Something about it not being actual tea. I smile at Potter as he passes it to me, our hands bumping for a second too long. As I take a sip, I allow the warm liquid to soothe a path from my mouth to my stomach. Granger absentmindedly hands him the parchment for him to look over as she turns the conversation away. It becomes happier things like Quidditch. Not that even Quidditch calms me down anymore. I now associate it with flying back from Skiddaw Mountain, and the ensuing torture that was the next week.

By the time we finish our tea, and Granger has drawn up the entire Manor, it’s grown dark outside and is starting to become light again. Muffling yawns, Potter says goodbye to his friend and she rushes out via the Floo. I have no idea where she is staying, but it’s not with the Weasley’s. Something about too many casualties if anything was to go wrong. And she isn’t with her parents either, as she removed all knowledge of herself from them. I can’t imagine how difficult that would’ve been for a lot of reasons. Mainly because I’ve never had a parent, or anyone for that matter, care enough. Sure, my mother cares, but not enough to let me switch worlds and become entangled with a war. No, mine made me.

“Alright, Malfoy?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

Potter smiles, a gentle lift of the corners of his soft-looking mouth. “Well, goodnight then. If you need potions to sleep there should be some in the bathroom.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” How did he know I would need potions? Then again, he might need them too, after the things we spoke about.

“Oh, and Malfoy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I have to keep calling you that?”

“Calling me what?”

“By your last name. Surely you don’t want to be associated with your father every day.”

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. “Call me Draco.”

***

A/N: I am beyond sorry for the long wait 😣. As I said last time, this break has been for my physical health. It has drastically improved though, and this should be back to a regular schedule 🥳. I hope you enjoyed this (belated) chapter! Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

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[queen-scribbles]

Curiosity Killed the Reek-Cat

...but satisfaction brought it back. 

Have roughly 3k of Brykar ft. Bry backstory. :)

---

It would come as a surprise to most people, but it was actually possible to get bored on Carrick Station. If you gave it enough time, or had no use for some--most--of the services on offer.

Both of which were currently true for Jonas Balkar. An unconventional extraction had left him stuck there until Trant could arrange acceptable transportation back to Coruscant. Jonas almost asked why he couldn’t just figure something out for himself, but there had already been a few clue this assignment was a bigger deal than it looked on the surface. So he nodded, and agreed to wait for whatever his boss considered “acceptable” transportation.

It was taking long enough he was most definitely starting to get bored. It might’ve helped if he was free to move between the ships--particularly the Gav Daragon; there was a whole museum there(granted, Jonas would likely be more interested in the people visiting the museum than the museum itself)--but Trant had told him to stay on the main station. None of the levels had anything particularly exciting aside from the cantina, and some were even closed off to non-essential personnel. 

Nine hours into waiting, Jonas got bored enough to take that restriction as a challenge. Slicing may not be one of his strengths, but charm was. Between that and his ability to appear unassuming and nondescript(”Not with those cheekbones,” Bry would tease if she were here. Of course, if she were here, he probably wouldn’t be bored in the first place), he found himself on the mission departure deck fairly easily.

Truth be told, he hadn’t really planned what he’d do when (if) he succeeded, so it was almost a relief when he caught a glimpse of a familiar red jacket in one of the ops coordination rooms; it gave him something to investigate. Even if it made him do a double-take. Thought Shan was on Corellia...

Clearly, he’d thought wrong. As he edged closer to the room it was very obvious one of the figures--the pacing one, of course--was Theron. The other, a soldier, from his armor, was bent over the holotable in the center of the room, studying the pale blue clusters of shuttles it projected. Both looked very intent and eager. Whatever they were overseeing, it must’ve been a big deal.

Curious as boredom had made him, Jonas knew better than to be caught snooping on something that had SIS and the military both salivating like a hungry nexu. He’d started to slowly make his way back toward the elevator when the soldier’s voice growled out and he froze in his tracks.

“Alright, Nerai, your turn for insertion, he said gruffly. “Be ready for a fight.”

Jonas’ brow furrowed. Bry’s already on an assignment, how’d they get her-

“Understood, Colonel.” That was not Bry’s voice over the comm in response. It was softer, mellifluous and gentle. “I am ready to defend myself, but hope to avoid undue violence.”

“Nerai, you are in their heart,” the colonel growled back. “All violence is due violence. You do what it takes to achieve the objective.”

Her image flickered on the holo and Jonas barely bit back an audible grunt of surprise as he eavesdropped. Definitely not Bry. Longer hair, different tattoos, but there was something familiar about her eyes and the curve of her jaw.

“I will not shirk from defending myself, Colonel,” she replied, poised in the face of his bristling. “Nor fail to complete what I promised. But neither will I go out of my way to inflict harm. That is not how I do things.”

“This is no time for Jedi morality-” the colonel started to snarl, but Theron held up a hand.

“Darok, she needs to concentrate if we want this to be a success,” he cut the other man off. His gaze drifted toward the doorway before he looked up at the holo. “Good luck, Master Jedi.”

She smiled--”Thank you, Agent Shan”--and her image flickered and faded.

Remembering his intention, Jonas turned and made for the elevator.at what he hoped was an inconspicuous pace. The hand that settled on his shoulder before he was halfway to his goal said it wasn’t. 

“What are you doing here?” Theron hissed even as he tugged Jonas off to the side so they wouldn’t be visible from the ops room.

“Just passing through,” Jonas replied with an innocent shrug. “Waiting for a ride.”

Theron arched a brow skeptically. “What, the shuttles running every hour on the hour not good enough for you?”

“For me, yeah.” Jonas shrugged again. “Not for our boss.”

He saw the three or four potential next sentences come to mind and be discarded in Theron’s eyes before he sighed and reiterated, “But what are you doing here? On this level?”

“Nothing. Wandering to stave off boredom. Even I can only stomach so long in the cantina before I need something else to do. Got curious what was on the other levels of this place.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that saying, goes something like ‘curiosity killed the reek-cat...?”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Jonas countered, lips twitching in a smirk at the attached memory. He kept talking before Theron had a chance to growl at him again. “What’re you doing here? Aside from meeting pretty Jedi, I mean.” Who bear a startling resemblance to my fiancee.... “What’s the story there?”

If it was anyone else from their entire office, Jonas would’ve sworn Theron’s ears went just a little red at the insinuation. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he shot back, glancing toward the ops room. “She’s helping with our mission, which is classified, so you’re damn lucky I’m the one who spotted you, not Darok. Man’s jumpier than a Kowakian monkey lizard about this op. Might wanna make yourself scarce before he has you arrested for espionage or something.”

“My job, you mean?” Jonas deadpanned, but Theron didn’t so much as roll his eyes. This op must be a really big deal.

“I’m serious, Balkar.” Theron let go of his arm with a small shove toward the elevator. “Get lost before you get caught. And-”

“Keep my mouth shut, I know,” Jonas cut him off. “I know how discretion works, Shan.” A really big deal.

Theron just nodded curtly, no smart remark in return, and headed back to the ops room.  Jonas did as he’d suggested and made his way back up to the main level of the station, now with much more to keep him busy until his ride got here.

                                                          ---

When the shuttle finally showed up, it was an uneventful ride back to Coruscant. Gave him a chance to start figuring out how to begin the conversation he was now very interested in having for Bry. Questions about hidden family members were tricky to broach, even if they were fueled by curiosity rather than hurt. He assumed. He’d never had to do this before.

He wound up with a couple more days to mull it over before Bry got back from her assignment, and no closer to an appropriately delicate opener to that conversation.

You could just leave it alone. If it was important, she’d have brought it up by now, his thoughts pointed out. Or snoop her records, find out without bothering her.

Neither of those sound like me, Jonas retorted. He was pretty close to just leaving it alone through sheer lack of a good way to start, though.

All the internal debate was rendered moot when Bry got back, flopped on his couch with her legs--as always--across his lap, and asked. “So, do anything fun while I was gone?”

Jonas laughed and ran one hand through his hair. “Funny you should ask...” He rubbed her shin as he gave her the sanitized version of how he’d wound up on Carrick Station and what lengths boredom and curiosity had driven him to, then hesitated, hand going still against her leg as he gambled. “Bry...any particular reason you’ve never mentioned having a sister?”

She stiffened ever so slightly. “B’cause there’s about half a frangin’ ton of baggage involved I didn’t wanna drop on you,” she said glibly after a long pause.

“Bry.” So that had been her sister. Not a cousin or some more distant relation.

She looked at him, let out a long sigh, and swung her legs down to sit up and sidle closer to him on the couch. “Alright. First off, it’s not any reason about you that kept me from sayin’ something. It’s not a trust issue or dirty secret or anything. I just... never mention her to anyone.”

It was clear from her expression and the way her gaze stayed fixed on their knees that this was a serious, difficult subject for her. Still he couldn’t help himself. “Why wouldn’t you mention a sister?”

Bry looked him dead in the eye. “Because it never felt like I had one.” His confusion must have shown, because she sighed again and briefly buried her face in her hands. “Okay, starting at the beginning.... You know I don’t really talk to my parents.”

It wasn’t a question, but Jonas still nodded. “Yeah.”He reached for her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. 

In fact, she seemed to appreciate the gesture. “Vica’s why. She’s four years older than me, was found to be Force-sensitive and taken in by the Jedi Order when she was three. My- our parents decided that given we never met, it made perfect sense to never tell me about her. Easier to pretend I was an only child than inevitably wind up explaining to a four year old why her big sister didn’t live at home and we couldn’t visit her.”

Jonas winced at the hurt and sarcasm under the words. For once he held his tongue and simply squeezed her hand in support.

“So they didn’t,” Bry continued, shooting him a faintly grateful smile. “Never breathed a word. Told me I was it, and they were happy that way. I was seventeen when I found the one memento they couldn’t bring themselves to give up--isn’t that how it always goes?--the first family holo from when Vica was born.” She gave a sharp laugh. “That’s what tipped me off; I came almost two weeks early. Dad was off-planet for work and missed my arrival. They’d told me the story a dozen times, so I knew that baby couldn’t be me. When I confronted them about it, they told me the truth easily enough. Said they did it to protect me. To keep me from feeling hurt I lost out on the sister I’d always pestered them for because the Jedi took her before I was born.” Bry pulled her hand free, ran both through her hair, and tipped her head back against the couch. “Stars, I need a drink.”

“Coming right up.” Jonas squeezed her knee as he pushed off the couch. It only took a minute to pour two whiskeys and return to sit next to her.

“Thanks. Bry slugged back half of the one he handed her in a single swallow, winced, and wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist.”This is a good one, sure you wanna waste it-”

“If you need a drink, it’s not a waste,” Jonas cut her off. “Especially since you need it ‘cause of me in the first place.”

She snorted, swirled the remaining liquor. “Always knew you’d drive me to drink,” she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Just didn’t figure it would be like this.” She sighed, ran her hand through her hair again, then leaned forward to brace her elbows against her knees.”Let’s get this over with..... So. Seventeen, just found out my parents had been hiding a Jedi big sister from me my whole damn life. I was pissed. Didn’t talk to them for weeks. Only reason I didn’t just leave is Sayna pleadin’ their case. That was part of why I joined the military soon as I graduated,” she admitted. “The recruiter had already been sweet-talking me an’ a couple other kids pretty hard. I might’ve done it anyway, but getting away from people who’d lied to me for near on two decades was the final nudge that made it too good a deal to pass up.”

“You ever talk to her?” Jonas asked, mimicking her posture.

Bry shook her head and snorted a bitter laugh. “Jedi aren’t allowed attachments like that, remember?”

I feel like I’ve had this conversation before... Jonas thought wryly. Theron was markedly less bitter about it than her--unless he was really drunk--but the general tone was familiar. “Right.”

She raised a brow at the no-frills reply. “You’re being awfully... taciturn. For you,” she commented, draining her glass. 

He shrugged and swapped her empty tumbler with the full one he held. “I don’t know enough to really comment, beyond saying that while I see where they were coming from, I absolutely disagree with how your parents handled things.”

Bry bumped her shoulder against his as thanks for round two and scoffed. “Oh, I see where they were coming from, too. I get it. I may wonder time to time if it was more for themselves--not having to explain or deal with the questions I would have asked, but I get it. Getting it doesn’t make it hurt any less that they lied to me for seventeen years, Jonas. Every time I asked why I didn’t have any siblings, every time I grumbled about being an only child.... They could have told me, and they didn’t, and that stings like hell.”

“I’ll bet,” he nodded.

Bry flashed an apologetic grimace as she sipped the second whiskey. “Sorry for ranting. I warned you it was a lot of baggage.”

“Eh, you’re entitled, I think.” Jonas rubbed her back.

She relaxed slightly and her grimace turned to a relieved, genuine smile. “And you’re sweet.” She raised one hand to curl around the side of his neck, just below his ear, back towards the nape, and pulled him in for a whiskey-flavored kiss.

“I signed up for the whole ride,” he murmured against her lips, “not just the smooth sailing. It not being official yet doesn’t make me mean it any less-”

Bry kissed him again and he chuckled as he obliged, leaning into it.

“You’re sweet,” she reiterated when they parted. She sat back and handed over the whiskey. “We can share.”

“Or I could get another, if I wasn’t being lazy,” he pointed out as he accepted the tumbler and took a sip. Bry chuckled softly, and they sat in comfortable silence for a handful of seconds, shoulders pressed together, before Jonas spoke again. “Not to keep digging at the wound, Bry, but did you ever try...?”

“Getting in touch despite knowing it;s a long shot?” Bry finished with an almost derisive snort. “Yeah. Once. Just before I went to Ord Mantell.” She slouched enough to put her feet up on the low table in front of the couch. “Got some clearly rehearsed apology that the individual I sought was off-planet and unavailable, but they could pass along a message. Didn’t bother; felt wrong for that to be how she learned I exist. After that... I dunno, I was busy. Lost my nerve, I guess. Or convinced myself it wasn’t that important we get to talk. At least enough to kill my curiosity.”

“Speaking of curiosity...” Jonas turned sideways on the couch, one foot still braced against the floor. “I’d like to apologize for mine making you dig up memories that hurt.”

Bry chuckled dryly and reached up to grab a handful of the front of his shirt. “Eh, you’re cute so I’ll forgive you.”

Jonas laughed and didn’t resist when she pulled him down for another kiss.  “One of my favorite sentences,” he teased.

“Dare I ask what the others are?” She arched a brow and maintained a loose grip on his shirt when he straightened.

“Drinks are on me for one. Hey there, handsome...” he grinned at the look on her face. “You asked.”

“Teach me to be curious...”

“There is one more recent addition,” he said with faux-innocence. “I love you.” He wrapped his hand around hers grasping his shirt, rubbed his thumb over the diamond and chevron tattoo on the back of one finger. “But only when exchanged with one very specific gorgeous blue-eyed badass who currently has her feet on my table.”

“What, that’s not why it’s there?” Bry said playfully, tugging on his shirt. “I love you, too. Even if you are a nosy bastard sometimes.”

“Can’t help it,” Jonas smirked, leaning down to kiss her again. “You’re just so fascinating I want to learn everything about you.”

“Charmer,” she laughed just before their lips met.

“Yep,” he replied, stealing another kiss before shifting to sit in a similar position to hers, though he didn’t put his feet on the table. “Thanks for satisfying my curiosity, gorgeous.”

Bry nodded. “Welcome, handsome. I prob’ly would have told you eventually, might as well be now.” She wriggled closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Now that that’s done”--she raised an inquiring brow and he nodded--”what should we do to relax?”

“Did you get to do anything fun while you were gone?” Jonas joked, balancing the whiskey on the arm of the couch.

“Freeze my ass off,” she said glibly. “Deal with stuff that got way more complicated than it should’ve.” 

“Doesn’t it always?”

“Heh, point. It’s behind me now, and I’d rather leave it there. Do something else.”

“Fair.” Jonas had a suspicion this most recent mission was not all she meant. “In that case...” He trailed his fingers lightly up the inside of her forearm and grinned when she bit her lip. “I might have a few suggestions...”

“By all means,” Bry matched his grin as her hand drifted toward the inside of his knee. “Satisfy my curiosity.”

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

It’s been my headcanon for a while that in the Nerai Sisters canon Vica’s The Outlander(TM), so she does all the Shadow of Revan etc stuff since she, y’know, romanced Theron and needs to interact with him. BUT since even the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order can’t do EVERYTHING, while Vica was running the Assault on Korriban/reclaiming the Jedi Temple Bry was doing Ilum. 

Also: since Bry A) is not a jewelry person and B) can’t really wear it with her job, she gets a tattoo on the back of her left ring finger when she and Jonas get engaged, and then adds to i(a LOT; my girl is not subtle at all) when they actually get married. :D