#i think he’d give them back their sight because he misses the discussion

[needleanddead]

I know Percy's awful, but, I just love books so much that I can't help but imagine a reader who wants to keep talking about books with him lately.

Because what else are they going to do, kept in a room and tortured day after day by someone they thought was their loving, equally-book-loving boyfriend??

It takes their mind off things, after he's had a feeding session, to curl up in his arms and read together if they've been granted a book, or ease into a discussion about a book they've both read, or talk about book pet peeves, or anything at all book related.

It's calming, in a way.... to go back, even for just an hour or two or however long Percy feels like being sweet, to how it used to be, when they'd get into long discussions over books.

Sure, now instead of being at a cozy cafe they're captive in a single room, their body is dripping with sweat from the exertion of fear and sometimes they're convinced Percy is giving them books with scenes that creep them out on purpose... But you gotta take what you can get in a situation like that.

This is pretty much what would be going on with me, I fear.

And he encourages it! An interest in something shows a will to live, after all; proof that he can keep coming back to them and can keep drinking them in, because there’s enough fight left in them to still enjoy something.

(There’s still something he can tear from them).

And he does love books himself. And there is something pleasant for him about the feel of them relying on him, clinging to him, whispering thoughts and perhaps even bringing a new one to the table he hasn’t discovered! He’s almost proud of them; of course he chose himself a clever little thing to keep captive, he’s just that smart himself—

And oh, how frightened they’ll be if they wake up one day and cannot see to read.

[solrabi]

Play fighting with Boxer!Sukuna

Note: Reader is referred to as girlfriend at one point.

Masterlist

“Babe.”

“Not right now.”

“Babe.”

“Sukuna, I promise I’ll be done with this book soon.”

He huffed and fell back onto the couch. He had been trying to get your attention for the past 30 minutes but you were adamant on finishing your book. This is all the fault of that damn community book club your coworker recommended you join. Now whenever, you’re off work and Sukuna doesn’t have to train, you’re reading. Usually the two of you spent almost all your spare time together but now you spent half of it reading your newest book for your weekly discussion. You always did your best to spoil him with kisses and cuddles but it was never enough.

Book club be damned, he needed you to be superglued to his side every single second.

“My girlfriend has a side man and he’s made of paper,” he huffed to himself as he watched you intently read. What was so great about your book anyway? Was it worth ignoring your gorgeous (and shirtless) boyfriend? He even had a tattoo of your name on his left pec and you were still choosing to smother a book with your attention.

Sukuna’s wallowing turned him creative- he stood in front of you, trying to make sure your guard was down. You didn’t look up which meant that you were still engrossed in your book. His hand swooped in and swiftly snatched the book from you. “Sukuna,” you groaned. “Give it back, I was at a good part.” You got up to grab it from him but he raised it above his head. “Kiss me.” You glared at him and gave him a quick peck on his lips. “Done, now give it.”

“No,” he nonchalantly replied. “But I kissed you.” You wondered why he was being particularly irritating today.

“That was me begging for a morsel of your attention. Now cuddle me if you want it,” he said and cheekily smirked.

You ignored him and hopped trying to get your book. Sukuna simply dodged your sad attempts and laughed every time you missed. “I don’t even know why you’re trying.” You gave him a pointed look at his comment.

“Okay, fine, you can have your book if you beat me in a fight.”

“What? That makes no sense.” You couldn’t believe this man. “It seems like a fair challenge to me,” he said as he walked to a particularly high shelf and placed your book on top of it. “You know I can just use my stepping stool for that, right?” you said before scoffing at him.

“Then it’s a good thing I hid it.” His sarcastic smile was now pissing you off. “But you literally fight for a living. You have the upper hand.”

“I’m in love with you. Use that as a distraction. Come on, let’s go to the ring.” You were speechless as he dragged you to the fighting “ring” (also known as your bedroom).

Since you had a smaller frame than him, he agreed to let you have the first hit. You sighed and braced yourself. You didn’t have much of a strategy except for charging at him with such a high speed that he’d fall on the bed and would accept defeat.

But as soon as you were in close distance, he caught both your arms, turned you around and threw you on the bed. He didn’t give you a second to get up before he straddled you. “Haha!” he exclaimed. Seeing you all riled up underneath him was a sight he was used to but it never failed to awe him.

“Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” he asked as he began to lower himself to face you. “This is so unfair! You’re like 200 pounds, I can’t even move you,” you said as you tried to push him off. Sukuna grabbed your hands that were fighting him and he playfully wrestled them. Who knows what would’ve happened if he used his real strength.

Thank goodness for your quick thinking because you remembered that Sukuna was extremely ticklish so you pulled your hand out of his grasp with all the strength you could muster up and started poking his sides. “Babe!” he yelled before toppling over to his side.

It was your turn to straddle him and before you could pin his arms beside his head, he caught yours and pulled you down to him. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. Your cheeks were mushed against the very tattoo of your name.

You were literally stuck in one position. The more you tried to move the tighter he’d hold you. “Sukuna, you cheater. Why do I always do this to myself?” You sighed, accepting defeat.

Sukuna kissed your forehead and laid you both on your sides, still not letting you go. “Sweet, sweet victory,” he whispered to himself.

-•-

I need to be (lovingly) smothered by a beefy nerd. Someone like Clark Kent.

[mariasont]

Sugar, Spice, Spencer's Advice - S.R

everyone expects spencer reid to fall for purely intellectual types, but what they don't know is your ability to remember his rambling lessons and your diligent googled research makes him feel irrationally turned on

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader warnings: established relationship, some suggestive content, brief mention of food-play (non-graphic, discussion only), spencer being protective, fluff af, spencer's negative outlook on sugar/food (super brief), teasing/banter, flustered spence wc: 1.4k request: here!

You’re happily licking at your ice cream cone, eyes soft with uncomplicated happiness, and Spencer thinks he’s becoming entirely too familiar with this feeling. It’s habitual. To observe you is like revisiting his favorite passage in a beloved book, each time discovering nuances he’s missed before.

He’d given in the instant your expression had turned imploring — big, pleading eyes, soft pout — your most effective weapon. Spencer has abandoned all pretense that he can resist your nightly sugar-driven rituals.

He’d pondered briefly the psychological undercurrents of your craving, but each theory usually ends up dissolving when he’s confronted by the smile you give him when he caves.

His attention drifts back just as your feet land on the dashboard. Spencer half-smiles at the sight of those slip-ons, your comfy choice through the entire day of painfully predictable romance movies. He was pretty sure he lost the plot somewhere around hour two — another mistaken identity plot twist, seriously? — but keeping track of said plot wasn’t really the point anyway. 

He’d watch paint dry if it meant hearing you laugh like that, but thankfully you usually pick slightly better entertainment. Usually.

Spencer reaches over instinctively, his hand finding its place on your thigh, patting twice for good measure.

“Hey, feet off the dash, please,” he says. “Airbags deploy faster than you think, and personally, I’m pretty attached to the current arrangement of your features.”

His mind trips over the calculation against the embarrassment of sounding like an overbearing parent. He’s not even your husband yet. Yet.

But you immediately drop your feet without complaint, settling into a position that looks decidedly safer. Spencer breathes a little easier. He gives your thigh a grateful squeeze, his thumb brushing back and forth just once in a wordless thank you.

You tuck your legs beneath you, body angled toward him, elbow planted on the center console, cheek resting in your palm. 

“My face appreciates you looking out for it,” you tease gently. “Always looking out for me actually. Is there anything else I do that’s, like, secretly super dangerous?”

Spencer’s eyes catch yours, and he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting his hand from your thigh to sweep his thumb along the edge of your mouth, collecting the vanilla ice cream that’s smeared there. “As far as dangerous decisions go, I’d say your habit of leaving candles burning unattended ranks pretty high. One of these days you’re going to burn the whole place down, sweetheart.”

“But you said most fires from candles happen because of flammable stuff near them, not just leaving them burning,” you remind him sweetly, nose wrinkling with affection. “So really, as long as I keep things away from my candles, I’m totally safe. And I always listen to you about that.”

His heart flutters with messy pride and affection that makes him feel embarrassingly sentimental. Sure, conversations about Marcel Proust or string theory aren’t exactly your cup of tea (he’s pretty sure you’d turn your nose up at the mere thought), but there’s this distinctly genuine and wonderful way you navigate the world. 

You absorb everything he says — half-formed ideas, scattered facts, fleeting memories — in a way that weirdly puts eidetic memories to shame. 

It’s dizzying, actually, the way you’re smiling at him right now, effortlessly beautiful and clearly unaware that he’s suddenly acutely conscious of how his pulse is pounding. 

He loves you, he knows he does, deeply, and apparently by the way his face flushes hot and his breathing quickens, he’s more turned on by your quiet brilliance than he ever expected.

“Okay, so candles are covered,” he says with mock seriousness, “but what about all my advice on not talking to strangers or, I don’t know, not accepting free candy from mysterious vans? Are those making the cut too?”

“Come on, Spencer, you taught me better than that,” you say proudly. “I know all about risk assessment now, if someone seems sketchy or pushes too hard, it’s probably a danger sign. And,” you add with a satisfied smile, “that’s why you’re the only one allowed to take me for sweets. Want a bite?”

Spencer eyes the melting ice cream warily, the overly sweet scent doing nothing to tempt him, it’s essentially frozen sugar, after all, objectively terrible for him. The mental list of reasons to politely decline is endless.

But the knowledge that your lips have just been there sets off a chain reaction, desire eclipsing logic. Suddenly, he’s more than willing to abandon nutritional morals for the vague promise of an indirect kiss. Though, admittedly, he would much rather prefer the direct approach. But he’s fairly certain that running into a telephone pole would rank even higher risk wise than unattended candles or dashboard hazards. 

So, instead, he ducks his head, taking a careful bite, instantly regretting it when the sticky sweet cold paints his cheek.

Your giggles ripple, making him smile sheepishly as you shift closer. He expects your thumb, mirroring his earlier gesture, but then your lips brush against his cheek, your tongue catching the vanilla drip. Every ounce of rationality deserts him into one helplessly smitten mess.

“You know, saliva actually cleans better than wiping,” you announce thoughtfully. “So, you’re welcome, Spence.”

He’s half certain he’s never mentioned anything about saliva enzymes, but then again, he’s so thoroughly distracted by you most of the time he might’ve. It sounds exactly the kind of oddly specific detail he’d share.

“Okay,” he manages, unable to suppress a smile. “Where exactly did you learn that one?”

“I googled it.” You tilt your head. “Like, I thought food-play might be fun to try with you?” You shrug lightly, expression utterly innocent as if discussing something far less suggestive. “But then all these articles said it can get kinda gross and messy, and honestly, Spencer, I realized you’d probably just stress about germs and clean-up, and there’s no way I’d enjoy it if you weren’t totally relaxed and happy.”

Of all the things he anticipated you might say tonight, casually mentioning food play research was not on the list. It lands like a dropped grenade, exploding into fragments of thoughts he cannot possibly hope to piece together.

His cheeks burn hot as images — sticky and indecent images — flood his mind without permission. Vanilla dripping slowly down your collarbone, lips parted in invitation, eyes sparkling with that innocent curiosity he adores.

But beneath this sudden rush of desire lies something even softer because he can almost see it — your earnest expression as you scroll through webpages, considering all the possible complications, all the ways he might react. 

Spencer’s chest aches in a way he can’t pinpoint, a vulnerability spreading through him that he rarely allows himself to feel. He’s not used to people taking such gentle care of his anxieties, treating his quirks as something precious rather than burdensome. A small, quiet part of him wonders if he deserves this kind of thoughtfulness, this careful, intentional love you offer without hesitation. He wants to believe it, wants to let himself trust it completely, but the tender astonishment that grips him right now makes it hard to think straight.

“You know, angel, next time just come straight to me, okay? I promise my answers are better, and less traumatizing, than whatever you’ll find online.”

“Well, don’t blame me when you start getting texts at two a.m. about my random questions.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we both know that if my phone goes off at two a.m., you’re probably not looking for statistics.”

You smile at that.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” you concede. “But honestly, Spence, I did read this thing about late-night dopamine spikes or whatever and —,”

He doesn’t think. He can’t think. The moment the car is in park, his body moves on its own, leaning across the console, hands gently cupping your face as he silences your adorable scientific ramble. He’s never felt such urgency, such an intense, overwhelming need to kiss someone as he does right now. It’s impulsive, reckless, completely out of character, and yet he feels no regret. Only relief. Only you.

For once in his analytical life, Spencer lets instinct win, savoring your lips and the small, surprised sound you make against him. He hopes you hear in his kiss everything he can’t yet put into words.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[slutoru1207]

Invincible!Mark x Variants!reader imagine

As requested <33333

It had been a few months since the Invincible War, and Mark was finally starting to feel like things were settling down. The nightmares had lessened, the world was slowly recovering, and for once, he felt like he could breathe. That peace, however, was short-lived.

Because now, he had a whole new problem. You. Well, multiple yous.

The first one had shown up out of nowhere, confused and disoriented but seemingly harmless. The second had arrived only a few hours later. Then the third. By the time the GDA realized what was happening, there were six variants of you, all from different dimensions, all equally shocked to be here. And, worst of all? They only wanted to stay with Mark.

It wasn’t even up for discussion. The GDA had tried separating them, offering different accommodations, but every single one had the same response:

“No thanks, I’ll stay with Mark.”

Mark was losing his mind.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the multiple versions of his girlfriend sitting comfortably in the GDA containment facility.

One of them grinned. “Aw, babe, don’t sound so upset.”

“I—I’m not your babe!” Mark spluttered, pointing an accusing finger at her. He turned to you, his actual girlfriend, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, watching this unfold with barely contained amusement. “Can you say something here?”

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re me, Mark. I think it’s sweet that they like you so much.”

One of the variants—the one wearing a slightly different outfit than yours—sighed dramatically. “Like? Like is an understatement, sweetheart.” She turned to Mark, propping her chin in her hands. “Have you seen yourself? If I was thrown into a different universe and you were here, I’d stick to you like glue too.”

Another variant nodded. “Same. No way I’m letting this prime piece of Viltrumite ass out of my sight.”

Mark choked.

You bit your lip, hard, trying to suppress a laugh.

“You—you can’t just say things like that!” Mark spluttered, his face turning a deep shade of red.

One of the variants smirked. “Why not? I mean, it’s true. Have you looked in a mirror?”

“I—That’s not the point!”

From that moment on, Mark knew he was doomed.

The GDA eventually gave up on trying to separate them. Until they found a way to send them back to their respective dimensions, they were on lockdown, and Mark—along with you—had been assigned to keep an eye on them.

Which was easier said than done.

Because Mark couldn’t catch a break.

Everywhere he went, they followed. And worse? They flirted relentlessly.

“Mark, honey, you look so tense.” One of them leaned against his shoulder, tracing a finger down his arm. “I could give you a massage if you want~.”

He jumped away like he’d been burned. “NO.”

Another giggled. “You don’t have to be so shy. We’re all technically the same person—so really, it’s not that weird.”

“It is absolutely that weird!”

You? Oh, you were having the time of your life watching him suffer.

Sitting on the couch, you rested your chin in your palm, eyes twinkling as Mark shot you a helpless look.

“You could help me, you know,” he grumbled, arms crossed as he tried to keep some distance between him and his rapidly growing harem of you.

You shrugged, barely holding in your laughter. “And miss this? No way.”

The variants giggled, and Mark swore he could feel his soul leaving his body.

Things only got worse as the days passed.

The variants knew he was flustered by their attention, and they leaned into it hard.

One whispered in his ear, voice dripping with mischief, “You know, if you ever wanted to see what it’s like to have two of me at once—”

Mark walked out of the room immediately.

You cried laughing.

Every day was like this. Every day, Mark suffered through compliments, teasing, and not-so-subtle attempts at seduction, all while you sat back and watched the chaos unfold.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he was kind of getting used to it.

The variants, despite their relentless flirting, were still you. They were kind, funny, and weirdly protective over him—if anyone so much as looked at Mark wrong, they’d be ready to throw hands, much to his horror.

But they never stopped teasing him.

And honestly? You weren’t sure if Mark would survive until the GDA found a way to send them home.

[marauder-misprint]

Hello!! I’m your new follower and honestly your fics are so good 🥺 I love the “these damn stairs” one and I wonder if u could write part 2 because shy reader and gentle super friendly Remus trope is the best heh.

Thank youuu for following ❤︎

Here is part 2 to 'These damn stairs' and there will be a part 3 because I can't just let it end here :) Might be a few days before I'm able to post part 3 because I got some really good requests in my inbox that I want to get to! (part 3 is here)

'It's a date'

Remus Lupin x reader

2.2k words

cw: fluff

Talking to Remus still felt like you had the eyes of the school on you. This meant that it was Remus who talked first. You would give him a small smile or a wave when you passed him on your way to a different class, but it was always him who came up to your desk before or after a class you had together. It was him who still came to sit with you at lunch; your friends warmed up to him quickly and proceeded to tease you about him when he was gone. 

You continued to study with him too. He’d wait for you outside the library before walking with you back to the small table from that first study session. With every passing day, you slowly began to be more comfortable in his presence. You were able to hold a conversation with him. It was a slow growing friendship, but it was growing. 

“You’re sure you don’t mind studying with just me?” you had asked once, worrying that he missed all of the attention that he used to get in the library because he was smart and nice. 

He just smiled at you, leaning toward you to say, “I really don’t mind. I’d rather work with you over anyone else.” 

That left you blushing for the rest of your time in the library that evening. Remus always knew what to say to get that blush to reappear. More often than not, you would leave your encounters with Remus with a pink face and racing heart. 

You were thrown off when you showed up to study with Remus on Saturday and he wasn’t waiting for you outside the library. You considered waiting for him to show up but decided to check inside just in case. You found him sitting at a larger table with his friends. There were open chairs on either side of him with the other three boys on the opposite side of the table. The sight sent your mind spinning as you tried to remember the conversation when you discussed studying today. You didn’t recall him mentioning the rest of the Marauders would be there. Plans must’ve changed. 

You headed toward a different table, your usual before you started sitting with Remus. You didn’t want to interrupt their “Marauders Study Session.” 

However, as soon as he saw you, Remus called you over.

“You know James, Peter, Sirius, yeah? Hope you don’t mind they came today. I’m afraid they need the extra push to get stuff done.”

You do mind but god forbid you say something and make a scene. So you nodded and sat down next to Remus. You attempted to keep your things more consolidated than you usually do. You didn’t want to encroach on Peter’s or Sirius’ space. It took you longer to fall into your studying groove with the entirety of the Marauders at the same table as you; you’re positive that anyone and everyone passing by is confused by it. You felt like an outsider intruding on something sacred. It didn’t help that every time you looked up, you swore at least one of them was looking at you or Remus. You’re a bit uncomfortable. It’s not like you’ve ever really talked to any of them. 

“So, erm, how long has this been a thing?” Peter asked after you caught your eye from across the table. 

A thing? What on earth did that boy mean?

“Excuse me?” 

“We’ve been studying together for a little over two weeks,” Remus said, shooting you a quick smile.

Oh That’s all.

Remus’ answer made the question make more sense. You supposed it was a thing that Remus was studying with one person rather than a herd of girls and essentially playing teacher. You berated yourself for thinking that Peter had meant something more. 

“Right, studying,” Sirius said with a smirk. 

Nope. What?

You pursed your lips together and train your eyes on your assignment. That is what you had been doing with Remus. That’s all you’ve been doing.

“Shut it, Padfoot,” Remus warned. 

He glared at his friends. He had warned them ahead of time to be nice to you, to try not to scare you off. He knows you are shy and more reserved. He didn’t want to cancel studying with you so that his nimrod friends didn’t fall behind on their own assignments. But now, he was beginning to regret inviting them. 

Remus reached for a small scrap of parchment and scribbled on it, “Don’t worry about them” before sliding it into your view. You took notice of it and nodded. He lowered his head to get into your view as well. He raised his eyebrows as if asking that you’re okay. You drew a simple smiley face on the parchment. He nodded and returned to his own assignment. With both of your heads bowed in focus, you missed the shared look between the other three boys. You were able to get some work done. The lingering feeling of eyes on you was impossible to shake. You tried to think of a reason why they would be so interested in you, but you kept coming up short. Well, not completely. You had ideas, but each seemed more ridiculous than the last and one was just downright hopeful. 

“Is it true you started talking because you got your foot stuck in that damn step?” James asked as he closed a book he was using for his Herbology assignment.

“Prongs!” Remus hissed as your face turned beet red. 

“Uh, I guess?” you said meekly. 

You tried not to think about that embarrassing day, even if it did lead to your first real interaction with Remus. It wasn’t a moment you wanted to relive. 

“Must’ve been some fall though,” James continued, despite the glared daggers from Remus. “Certainly got our boy’s attention.”

Remus’ face was beginning to turn red as well at this point. He really, really wanted James to stop talking; it was at the point where he was debating Silencio. 

“Oh? What… what do you mean?” you asked, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Sirius snorted a laugh. “Sweetheart, you should hear how much he talks about you.” 

Your eyes went wide. You weren’t sure what you had expected but it wasn’t that. It took a second for the words to fully sink in. Remus talked… about you? Often? With enough frequency that his friends made note of it? Is that why it felt like they kept staring at you? They were just trying to figure out what Remus found so intriguing about you? 

You turned to see Remus holding his head in his hands. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Remus?” 

A horrible thought crossed your mind: What if this was all just a prank on you and Remus was collateral? What if he didn’t actually talk about you and now he’d have to admit that? 

He ran his hands through his hair before looking at you. His face was bright red, highlighting each scar that ran across his nose and cheeks brilliantly. 

“Can we talk privately? Before I murder these gits?” he asked you in a low voice with pleading eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” you breathed, standing up and waiting to follow Remus through the shelves.

He led you further than you would’ve expected from the table. You assumed that he really didn’t want the boys overhearing whatever you were going to talk about. With each step, you felt your heart rate increase. Maybe he thought you were going to cry at what he was going to say and didn’t want to do that near them. 

“I think we’re far enough. No hearing extension charm they’re capable of reaches this far,” he said, leaning back against the wall with some kind of effortless allure. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. 

You stood a few steps away from him. If something was going to go down, you wanted to have some space between you. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m fine,” he said as he watched you with cautious eyes. “Usually their teasing doesn’t get to me this bad.” He let out an awkward chuckle. 

“Are they teasing you about being friends with me?” you asked, your chest filling with dread. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself to brace for the worst. Remus was popular. He was so well-liked. He was so good with people. And you liked to stay out of the spotlight. Some people thought you were a little standoffish, but so be it. You could see where his friends were coming from. 

Suddenly, you felt hands on your shoulders. And you looked up to see Remus’ warm eyes. 

“They are teasing me about being just friends with you,” he said softly. 

You rolled your lips against each other. What did he mean by that? Just friends? 

“Because I do talk about you a lot. I practically only study with you. I go out of my way to cross paths with you so I can see your smile. I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I stare at you from across the Great Hall when I don’t sit next to you.” He paused for a moment to see if you had any reaction yet. “And this is going to sound mean, but I’m so glad you fell on those stairs. It brought you into my life.” He waited again. “Please say something, love.” 

“Okay,” you said as your cheeks tinged pink. “So they aren’t making fun of me? This isn’t some kind of prank?” 

“No. It’s not a prank. The only one being made fun of is me because I wanted to wait longer.”

“Wait longer for what?” 

“Listen. I meant it when I said you are pretty. I meant it when I said I don’t want to study with anyone else. I mean it when I say I can’t get you out of my head. I just wanted to wait longer to be sure… sure that you’d say yes. Sure that you like me.” 

You tilted your head.

“Of course I like you, Remus.”

“But as more than friends? Would you be willing to go on a date with me?”

Your breath hitched. Had Remus just said a bunch of sweet things about you? Yes, and it made your face feel hot. But it was the question that really sealed the deal. He wanted to be sure that you’d say yes. 

“I’d really like that.” You broke into a wide smile. “You thought I wouldn’t say yes?” 

Remus let out the breath he was holding and mirrored your smile. He pulled you into a tight hug before answering. 

“I’ve wanted to ask you out since the first time we studied together. I didn’t want to move too fast. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to jump you or something.” 

You laughed into his chest and he slowly let you go. 

“So all of that back there, that was them being tired of listening to you pine?” you asked.

“Seems like it. I told them to be nice to you, but I guess I didn’t tell them to be nice to me.”

“I mean, I’d say it was pretty nice of them to get you a date,” you said teasingly.

“I’m still the one who asked!” he tried to defend himself.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, but would you have asked if they weren’t here?”

“Not today, no. Maybe in another week or so. I told you, I was waiting to be sure.”

“For a smart bloke, you really should’ve known that if you asked me out on the stairs, I would’ve said yes.”

“Wait, what?” He looked down at you in surprise. 

“Merlin, I’ve had a crush on you for a while. It’s part of what made falling into the stair so mortifying.”

“Those damn stairs, right?” he chuckled as you started walking back to the table. Then he cleared his throat. “So, Hogsmeade next weekend?”

“It’s a date.” 

The three boys were working when you returned. When they looked up, they had matching looks of anticipation on their faces. Neither of you said anything as you sat down and started to work. Without speaking, you seemed to agree that you weren’t going to say anything unless they asked. 

“So?” Peter asked. “Did Remus grow a pair?” 

“Always had a pair, Peter,” Remus said dryly. 

“Moony,” he whined before turning his attention to you. “Did he… you know?”

“Well, she might not know. Because if he didn’t, how would she know?” Sirius said. 

You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head. 

“What if he did and she said no? That’d be something,” James mused. “Although I don’t think they’d be so… content? Peaceful? Somber? Pleased-looking?”

“But wouldn’t they both look much happier if he asked and she said yes?” Peter asked.

“Oi! We are right here,” Remus interjected. “I asked. She said yes. You are to stay away from us in Hogsmeade. Now, work. I want to see finished essays.”

“Our boy became a man!” Sirius said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Padfoot. Essay. Now,” Remus commanded before shooting you a wide grin. 

You could tell that he was pretty proud of himself too. 

tags: @allformoony, @oursweetmoony, @moonyswifee

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

could you please write a Hannibal one-shot, where fem!reader is from Europe and one of Alana‘s best friends.She meets Hannibal accidentaly at Alana‘s house and over months they bond over literature/culture, as she dearly misses her home. They often try to recreate a scene from a book, except this time the scene is partially sexual in the end.The reader thinks Hannibal would stop before the scene, but he just goes on (smut?)

Hannibal X Reader: Words on paper

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), Handjob, kissing, mutual pinning, female reader, no use of y/n.

Word count: 1,9K

When you first arrived you were worried you wouldn’t fit in. Alana had gone above and beyond to assure you that everything would be just fine. The two of you had met when Alana spent a small time in Europe for a college course and from the moment you met you’d become fast friends. When you told her you’d be going to America for some time she was quick to invite you to stay at her house, assuring you she had the space and that you wouldn’t be a bother at all. As the days went on you found yourself growing more and more comfortable. The two of you would go out at night, after Alana was finished with work, and she would introduce you to the most interesting people. But by far the person who most caught your eye was Hannibal. 

Your meeting wasn’t planned. Quite the contrary in fact. Hannibal had come over to Alana to discuss something about Will, one of his patients, who you also knew happened to be Alana's friend. As luck would have it you had been laying on the couch reading when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!”

You placed your book on the table and padded your way over to the door. You opened the door, immediately being greeted by the sight of a man in a suit. You gave him a small smile.

“Hello. How can I help?”

“Oh Hello. I'm Looking for Alana Bloom.”

“I’m here.”

Alana peeked out from behind you, calling Hannibal's attention to her. You stepped to the side allowing Alana to move forward. She whispered a small thanks to you as she leaned against the door.

“Everything okay?”

“I came to talk about Will he- Sorry who is that?”

Alana turned to look at you as you walked deeper into the house.

“Oh she’s a friend from Europe. She’s staying with me for a while.”

She stopped to think for a moment. 

“Actually I think the two would get along great. Just a sec.”

You heard Alana call your name causing you to stop where you were and turn around.  She motioned you over with her hand. You made your way back to the two of them. Alana introduced you to Hannibal who placed his hand out to you. You took it, giving it a good shake.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

The rest is history. 

You’d nagged Alana to give you Hannibals number and pretty soon the two of you were seeing each other everyday. You still made sure you had time to hang out with Alana but whenever you weren't with her you were with Hannibal. The two of you shared a passion for art and literature. Hannibal became a connection to your home. The two of you spent hours pouring over the most ancient works known to man. He’d help you with your English and you let him practice his Italian on you. Things between you seemed to click with such ease it was like you had been made for each other.

You and Hannibal had a designated activity for each day of the week. On Mondays you discussed his FBI work, because your view of things helped him quite a lot. Tuesdays were for talking about art and Wensdays were home cooked dinner at Hannibal's house. Thursdays were for Noir films and Fridays you saved for your Girls night out with Alana. But of all the days your favorite was saturday. On Saturdays you’d go over to Hannibal's house and the two of you would act out a scene from the book one of you was currently reading. Neither of you knew what the scene would entail. You found out as you acted it out. 

In all honesty you should have expected the scene to take the turn that it did. There had been signs from the beginning that this was the road you were heading down. It was a romance novel after all. The more you read the more your body is filled with an anxious feeling. You knew Hannibal would stop before things went too far. He’d done it before with other books so you expected him to do it again.

You were wrong.

 You had just begun reading the new paragraph, fully committed to your character.

“He gazed at her, his eyes boring into hers. She watched him take a step forward….”

You stopped, your eyes moving over the next words. In the book the male character, Hannibal, was supposed to kiss the female character, you. You looked up at Hannibal unsure of what to do.

“Keep reading.”         

“O-okay. Uhm. His hand wound around her waist.”

You felt Hannibal's hand against your body. Your breath quickened at the action. You glanced at the page, realizing your character had a line.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“It's forbidden. You know what my father will say.”

“Since when do you care about what your father says?”

Hannibal's gaze never left his book but his delivery of his lines seemed so real you couldn't help but get lost in your little fantasy. You turned your page and began to read again.

“Before she was able to response he silenced her with-muff”

He silenced her with a kiss. That was what was written. And that is exactly what Hannibal did. Your book nearly fell from your hand at the surprise you felt as Hannibal's lips met yours. You managed to keep your grip on it as your other hand moved to hold onto Hannibal's neck. Once he pulled away he gazed at your flustered expression for a moment before turning his attention back to the book. He started to read the next passage, his actions mimicking what he read.

“He leaned down to kiss her neck. Hands grabbing desperately at her body as the desire for her grew inside him.”

You gasped as you felt Hannibal suck on your skin, his free hand squishing the flesh of your hip.  

“He wanted to taste her. He wanted to see her squirm beneath him.”

“Hannibal.”

He was fully committed to the story. He would have read through the rest of the chapter if you’d let him. But the whine of his name coming out of your mouth made him break character. He looked at your blush stained cheeks and the dilated state of your pupils. You wanted this just as much as he did. 

Screw the book. 

You two would write your own scene.

Your books crashed to the floor as both of you moved to tug at each other's clothes. You tugged at Hannibal's shirt, removing it from his pants. He continued to assault your neck, his tongue lapping at the skin as he struggled with your zipper. You tangled into each other, moving across the room without any particular destination. You bumped into his harpsichord, wincing at the contact. Hannibal stopped moving at the sound, his head moving to look at you.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

The two of you broke into laughter as you finally took in the situation you found yourself in.

“Gosh you make me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

“I know the feeling. When I'm around you I feel like a teenager. Everything you do excites me.”

You give him a playful shove causing him to smile. You grin up at him, moving to place a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Would you mind if we moved this to the bedroom?”

“Not at all. Lead the way.”

Hannibal had been griping at you so fiercely you thought for a moment he didn’t know how to be gentle. 

He proved you wrong. 

Your hands curled into his hair as he buried his face into your cunt. His hands held onto your thighs, keeping you from squirming from him. A moan escaped your lips as he sucked on your clit. You were sure the way you were clawing at his skull must hurt but Hannibal didn’t seem to mind. He was fully content in lapping at your cunt for the rest of the night if it meant you’d continue to moan the way you were. Your vision was starting to become blurry as your eyes continually rolled to the back of your head. You gasped as Hannibal's fingers moved inside you, helping his tongue bring you to your peek. His name spilled from your mouth like a prayer. You spasmed beneath him, causing Hannibal to tighten his grip on your body. He lapped up your cum, feeling your body sag into the bed as you came down from your high. 

You moved your hand off his head, a sharp pain shooting through your arm. You hadn’t realized how hard you’d been holding onto him until your body relaxed. Hannibal kissed your thigh making you look down at him. You watched him make his way up your body, stopping to suck on your breasts for a moment before coming face to face with you. You gave him a lazy grin which he returned with a toothy smile. He leaned down, placing a kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring your body to his. 

As much as Hannibal wanted to fuck you he could tell you were tired. He pushed himself off you, laying beside you in the bed. You turned to lay on your side so you could watch him. His hand moved to his dick, wrapping around it. You inched yourself closer to his body, lips moving to kiss his neck. Hannibal's hand began to pump his dick, eye closing as he did so. You kissed his jawline, your hand moving over his chest. Hannibal let out small grunts as his pace quickened. You body was completely spent but you managed to lay on Hannibal's chest, your hand moving closer to where he was. The feeling of your palm on his hand made Hannibal's eyes snap open. He saw the top of your head, his gaze moving to where your hand was. You wrapped your hand over his. He called out your name causing you to lift your head from his chest.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you out.”

“You don;t have too. I know you're tired.”

“Shh, relax. I want to.”

Hannibal released his hand from his dick, allowing your hand to take his place. Your thumb moved over the head, gathering the pre cum that was there. Hannibal gasped as your hand began to move, stroking his dick at a slow pace. His hips bucked up, searching for his release. You continued to pump him, your head moving so that you could place kisses on his chest. Your teeth scraped at his neck as you began moving up his body. Hannibal's hand wound into your hair as you kissed him, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth. His dick twitched against your hand, causing you to speed up your movements. Hannibal moaned out your name as his seed spilled into your hands. 

You relaxed into Hannibal's chest, arm moving to wrap around his waist. Hannibal nuzzled his face into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo. Your eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion started to creep up on you. Hannibal noticed the shift in your breathing, realizing you were beginning to fall asleep. He tugged the sheets over both of your bodies, making sure to cover your bare skin from the cold. He let out a sigh relaxing into the bed as sleep washed over him.

[koishiro]

# - 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

masterlist | genshin masterlist | upcoming anon asks

Diluc

Okay I’m sorry but he’ll flat out ignore you at first,

Or at least he tries to considering he can’t stop thinking about you which will make him confused for a while on why his heart “aches” when you’re around. He doesn’t realise it but when you’re around or generally anywhere near him, he’ll subtly scuffle closer towards you and I can imagine Diluc trying his best to be in your line of sight as much as he can because that’s his way of infiltrating your mind. Every time you visit Angel’s Share don’t expect to pay for anything, it’s conveniently on the house. I can imagine he’d also want a form of validation from you (and only you) after he gives his opinion in a discussion, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Fancy seeing you here Y/n, the usual? What are you doing? There’s no need to spend your mora on such wasteful things”

Zhongli

…I hope you like tea,

Because you better expect to be invited to the funeral parlor “for tea” at least 3 days a week. If you’re ever walking through Liue and compliment something at a passing stall, he’ll buy it for you without a second thought because let’s be real (and these are his words exactly): - “mora has no value if it’s not spent on something worthwhile” …this man - he doesn’t realise how much of a flirt he is and is always confused if he catches your red face. He’ll also subtly court you without making it too obvious, like he’d appear at your place of work quite often with the excuse;

“the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is running quite slow today, I wondered if you’d like to take a stroll around the town with me, possibly have a look at the stalls”

Kaeya

This flirtatious bastard,

He’ll always think of ways to make you malfunction. You’re a regular at Angel’s Share as well?: “Ah so this is where all the pretty ladies are kept hm?”, followed by a drink he bought you. Any time he sees you walking though the streets of Mondstadt he’ll jog up to you and say: “Going somewhere m’lady? I could escort you if you’d like, maybe you’d care for a drink at the tavern?”. I can imagine Klee giggling to herself when she sees you as if she knows something you don’t…

“Sorry miss Y/n, Klee was told she can’t say anything, Kaeya made Klee promise - oh, you won’t tell Kaeya will you miss Y/n?”

Al haitham

This withdrawn boy…

He’d quite literally just stare at you from across the room until someone (Kaveh) nudges his shoulder, telling him he’ll scare you off if he continues. If you’re already aquatinted with each other he’ll most likely try and impress you by giving you book recommendations or talk about his findings at the Akademiya while you zone out and stare at his face for the next few hours. If you’re not aquatinted, he’ll saddle up to you and still give you recommendations:

“If I could just interject, herbal tea would be best whilst chamomile shall just make you drowsy, if you’d like I could show you how to make your own”

Childe

Ah yes, the cocky ginger,

I imagine he’d act like Kaeya, if he saw you strolling through Liue, Childe would stride up to you and ask if he could escort you to where you need to be with the excuse; “you can never be too careful” and this would become a habit to the point of meeting you once your shift ends to walk you back home. He’d also 100% spend his money on you no doubt, like Zhongli his excuse would be

“what’s the point of mora if I can’t spend it on a pretty girl hm?”

Itto

I hope you’re a dog person,

Because this is at your beck and call. One of the ways he shows his interest towards you is gift giving; you need a certain herb? Wait here while he goes and hunts it down for you, or maybe you need some meet? Don’t worry, he’ll quickly chase down a boar for you. And if you thank him a big smile when he delivers them? His tail could cause a tornado with how powerful his tail is wagging. Another way he shows his interest is physical affection; you’re sitting down reading a book? He’s there with his head on your shoulder, you’re both walking through town? He’s got a firm grasp on either your hand or your arm,

“what? I can’t let you wander off and get yourself lost, what would I do then? Who would hive me head pats?”

Kaveh

You wouldn’t even know he has a crush on you,

Instead thinking he’s just this friendly with everyone. Being an architect, no less from Sumeru, he would show and explain his ideas to you and ask for advice on what you think about them, sometimes he’ll deliver miniature structures to you that he made, for example: he once made you a wooden mobile (like a baby cot mobile) to hang wherever you please that plays music because he knew you had trouble sleeping or another time, he made you a glass wind-chime that would reflect the sun and cause rainbow rays to spread across your porch because you spend so much time in your garden. He’ll either make these as a thank you, a just cause, or he’ll make up a white lie and say it’s an experiment he’d like you to test run, always delivered with an excuse he made beforehand:

“Ah Y/n, glad I ran into you! I noticed the other day that you were struggling to keep on top of watering all of your plants so I made an automatic watering system! If it all goes well, I might start a batch of them”

—

－𝘬𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

[avelera]

Thinking about the lovely “New Inn Through the Ages” post by @virgo-dream in terms of alternatives to the popular “Hob built the New Inn for Dream after the missed 1989 meeting” headcanon.

- Quick disclaimer, this headcanon always mildly (and irrationally, this is fandom after all) irked me because to my pedantic, archaeology-obsessed ass, the New Inn was obviously visually at least 200 years old just based on the brick work so “built” never really worked, at most Hob could have purchased or renovated it if it was in response to 1989. To some that’s splitting hairs but what can I say, I never pretended to be rational about dumb history stuff.

- THAT SAID, it would be kind of interesting if Hob does own the New Inn but not necessarily since 1989, but even earlier. It could even be interesting for him to have built the New Inn in truth but back in the 1700s when the building was actually built.

- Hob appears not just comfortable at the White Horse in its 1889 but at the very least a regular. He recognizes Lou on sight and names her immediately, he knows her nickname at the establishment. This familiarity doesn’t track if this is his first time at the White Horse since 1789.

- After 1689, Hob appears to have opted to buy out a private room for them for their discussion, perhaps in response to his return in fortunes but also perhaps based on the memory of being nearly thrown out in 1689 and interrupted by Shaxberd in 1589. The guy is learning how to better manage their encounters. So it stands to reason that after they were interrupted by Constantine in 1789 as a result of her paying off the proprietor, that Hob would simply buy out the inn for 1889.

- Hob owning the White Horse in 1889 actually rather tracks with his familiarity with Lushing Lou and the fact that he’s so at ease there and clearly arrived well before Dream. He speaks to Lou with authority and is dressed with signs of at least middle class prosperity. Being the owner of the White Horse tracks with that level of prosperity shown, nothing flashy, after all it’s in a bad part of town these days.

- Thing is, Hob has a mind for business as we see in numerous instances at the centennial meetings. As a result, to me, it wholly tracks that he wouldn’t stop at buying the White Horse, he’d also purchase a few neighboring taverns and inns once he got a hang of the business. (Consolidation of neighborhood pubs under mega corporation ownership in the 1990s is its own interesting side note on this because again, I’m a history nerd.) The New Inn is presented as so close to the White Horse that a graffiti arrow is enough to point it out. That’s very close indeed.

- SO, I think from this it’s reasonable to say that Hob could very well have owned the New Inn as part of one of his business ventures since the 19th century or earlier, perhaps even as a result of the 1789 meeting and “Finding another pub”, perhaps even building the New Inn then in truth either before or after the meeting as an alternative in case another lunatic Constantine shows up. It’s so close by he might have hoped he could persuade Dream with its proximity.

- Right then, if that’s true, why can’t Hob save the White Horse?

- Perhaps after 1889 he simply sold his ownership stake in it. Heartbroken and angry at himself, especially if he’d provided all these contingencies like the New Inn in case of interruptions or other disasters, he might have just felt as much like a fool as in 1589 when he tried to provide a fine meal. Probably best to just give up and stop trying to control matters, since look where that got him.

- So he sells the White Horse. But the other inns don’t have the same emotional stake and business is business, so he sets those up with a “family trust” to keep running, lending the building out to different managers, etc. and simply carries on.

- Cue his look of devastation in 1989 upon learning the White Horse is going to shut down. If he once owned it, it might be a particular gut punch to know he could have prevented this if he hadn’t let his bitterness get the better of him. Despite his best efforts, he can’t prevent it from being condemned.

- LUCKILY he still had his own business interests nearby in the form of those pubs he built or bought centuries ago. He dusts off his paperwork around the New Inn and reassumes direct management (or at least, his nephew does in a few years). The 1789 ��nearby pub” contingency might just pay off in the 21st century, who knows? And it worked!

And there you have it. My take on how Hob could have built the New Inn starting from its actual original construction. Very fun to consider too when you check out Virgo’s post and discover that a Mr. Hobert did indeed own it at one point ;)

[rainbow-nerdss]

2024 fic roundup!

I was tagged by @exhuastedpigeon and @chronicowboy to share my roundup, so here goes!

I posted 20 fics and 247k words this year! I may have posted more fics some years, but this is for sure my highest word count! (and even though some of what I posted this year was written in 2023, there's even more in my google docs just waiting to be finished, so the numbers just about balance out!)

I have to say, looking at some of these, I can't believe it's only been a year!

So, here's what I wrote:

January:

In a fix, E, 3k

He didn’t know how it happened, but about three steps down he heard a creak, then a crunch, and the next thing he knew the stair was giving way from under him. One leg fell straight through the stairs while the other bent behind him at a strange angle. “Ow,” he groaned, moments before the realization of the severity of the situation hit him. Or; Buck gets himself into a bit of a sticky situation, and Eddie helps him out.

A Minor Delay, M, 43k

Eddie looks back at Buck with an uncertain expression. “You wanna grab some breakfast before you go home? I’m starved.” “Sure,” Buck agrees. He doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s shoulders relax, something like relief in his expression which quickly fades into a tired smile. Eddie thought he would say no, Buck thinks. And then: He asked anyway. *** Almost a year after the bridge collapse, a lot has changed. The team are scattered—Bobby and Athena on their Honeymoon, Hen on adoptive parent's leave, and Buck and Eddie... They may still work together, still have movie nights with Chris whenever they can, but things have changed. With Maddie and Chimney's wedding around the corner, Buck tries to make it perfect. And maybe, along the way, he might figure out why everything still feels... wrong.

March

Lime Jell-O, T, 3k

Eddie Diaz didn't panic. Or, well... Maybe he did. Sometimes. But he was working on it.

Fight Through it, G, 3k

"Bobby and Athena's cruise ship is missing." Buck’s entire body went numb. No. Eddie reached out, brushing his knuckles against Buck's. Buck wanted to tangle their fingers together, hold Eddie's hand in a vice grip and never let go. But he couldn't, not without giving themselves away. He clenched his own fingers into a fist instead.

April

Makes me dizzy, E, 29k

Buck watches Tommy walk away and he feels… Huh. He’s not sure exactly how he feels, honestly. Happy? Relieved? His lips still tingle with the memory of it, the pressure left by Tommy’s kiss. He’s frozen on the spot, right where Tommy left him. He laughs, the quiet sound echoing through his empty apartment. He knows Tommy had to go, had to work, but Buck stands there, watching the spot where he’d just walked out, and he wishes he’d reached for him. Pulled him back in for another kiss, more than just a faint brush of lips, more than a question. He wants to wrap his arms around Tommy’s shoulders, pull him close, lick into his mouth. Shit, the things he wants to do. And it’s all new, it’s strange and different and wonderful, because when Tommy kissed him, he felt stubble scratch against his own, and Tommy’s fingers tilted his face up, not down, and even though Buck hadn’t quite managed to set his hand down, hovering it over Tommy’s shoulder in his surprise, he knows what he’d find there—broad shoulders, muscled back, so unlike anything Buck’s known before. But he’d wanted it. He wants it.

May (Here we have the start of @911actions fics!)

'cause I've waited my whole life, 2k, T

Buck fell into making videos on tiktok by accident, really, but he loves it—almost as much as his followers love catching sight of his boyfriend in the background. Not even close to how much he loves Eddie, though. The videos just help them out, along the way.

June

no getting away now, T, 5k

He enjoyed talking to her on his breaks, as much as he could enjoy anything at that point in his life. He enjoyed discussing the merits of different coffee creamers, enjoyed complaining about the printers and gossipping about co-workers, enjoyed word of the day calendars with May and donuts in the break room, but he’d assumed that was all there was to it. He’d figured once he left, they’d forget he was ever there in the first place. or; 3 times Eddie met up with his friends from Dispatch after returning to the 118, and 1 time he goes to visit them

July

I mustache you a question, T, 4k

Eddie's life is in shambles. He grows a mustache. It, somehow, fixes everything.

Fever, T, 3k

Buck sits on the edge of the bed, reaches out to put a hand on Eddie’s head—he’s warm. Too warm. Now that Buck’s awake and paying attention, now his eyes are adjusted to the darkness, he can see the flush of Eddie’s cheeks and hear the snuffly sound of his breaths. *** Or: Eddie gets sick. Buck looks after him.

August

Where there's smoke, T, 37k

His eyelids are heavy. His lungs ache. The smoke is dense and thick, slowly suffocating him. Eddie feels himself drift as Buck’s voice penetrates the smoke, cuts through the fog in his brain. “Eddie, stay with me. Stay with me, Eds.” Eddie wants to stay. He wants to open his eyes and see Buck. He doesn’t want to leave. But he’s so tired, and sleep is calling him. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe his dreams will be sweet. Maybe there’ll be peace, there. And maybe, if he just rests for a little while, he’ll be able to find his way back.

September (A busy month!!)

don't dream it, be it, T, 4k

When Eddie hears Hen's plans for the weekend, he's immediately on board. Fun costumes, singing along, and time with the people he loves sounds like exactly what he needs to help Buck get back to his old self. or: The firehouse gang goes to see Rocky Horror

on my way to believing, T, 4k

It was a regular day, nothing special about it, really. Buck fell asleep on the couch while they were watching a movie after a long shift, and he woke up to a blanket covering him and the sound of Eddie humming quietly from the kitchen. When Buck walked out to him, he saw him dancing along to music playing through headphones, doing the dishes. He was happy, practically glowing. He hates headphones, but he’d put them on to avoid waking Buck, and that was it. Buck stood there in the doorway and told Eddie everything. How he felt, how he’d been waiting until the time was right, how he didn’t expect Eddie to feel the same but he just had to put it out there, couldn’t keep this a secret between them. And Eddie might have been surprised at first, but he felt the same. He feels the same. And today, finally, after so long, they’re going on a date. Their first date. His last first date, if Buck has any say in the matter.

I didn't know (that it could be good), E, 27k

They're friends, that's all there is to it. Until Eddie lets himself into Buck's apartment unannounced, and finds him in a compromising position. That should be nothing, just something to laugh about down the line, except afterwards, it's like a switch has flipped, and neither of them can get it out of their minds. The solution? They need to get it out of their systems. Just one time, and things will go back to normal. But one time turns to two, which turns to more nights spent together than apart, and still, they haven't actually spoken about what any of this means for them. They're still just friends, right?

Keep it down, T, 6k

Ravi doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired. He’s less than a week into his probational year, only two full shifts under his belt with the 118, but he already knows firefighting was the right choice. He feels fulfilled, like he’s really helping people, even if he hasn’t been allowed out on more than a handful of basic calls so far. But he’s also, as previously mentioned, fucking exhausted. And his new neighbor will not keep the fucking noise down.

October

touching me, touching you, E, 7k

After dinner, Buck wedges himself on the couch between Hen and Eddie. Maybe, if he’s squeezed between them, he won’t be able to feel that weird creeping sensation over his skin anymore. He drums his fingers on his knee, trying to focus on the TV. Eddie jolts next to him. “Sorry, did I bump you?” Buck asks. Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, sorry. Just..” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and Buck feels it again—that pressure, running over his nose and his cheeks and— Eddie drops his hand and the feeling stops. Wait. Or, Buck and Eddie wake up one morning able to feel each other's touch. They make the most of it.

never believe it's not so, T, 6k

Maddie Buckley never expected to enjoy hanging out with her little brother's best friend. She just didn't think they could have all that much in common. Turns out they've got more in common than she could have expected. And she can't tell Buck. In which Maddie has magic. And so does Buck. And so does Eddie. And she can't tell either of them. Or: 5 times Maddie has to listen to Buck and Eddie talk about each other without spilling their secrets, and one time they actually talk to each other.

November

just soothes the soul, M, 2k

It’s quiet, apart from the music still playing over the speakers, Old Time Rock and Roll fading out, another equally upbeat song starting right after. The contrast of it is what gets to Buck. Whatever Eddie had been doing when Buck showed up, he’d seemed… different, than he’s been lately. Buck turns his head to look at Eddie properly. "You shaved."

Jee-Yun's Big Day, G, 5k

“So, Jee,” Mommy says. “You remember how we visited Daddy at work before?” Jee-Yun nods. “Captain Bobby says you can come to work with me for a whole day!” Daddy looks excited, and Jee thinks about it. Daddy’s work is pretty fun, she thinks. Captain Bobby cooked some really yummy pasta, and Uncle Buck is always there, and so are Aunt Hen and Uncle Eddie. “Will I be like a real firefighter?” she asks. “Like Uncle Buck?” Mommy laughs, and Daddy looks a little bit annoyed. “You know, you could be! Or you could be a paramedic, like me and Aunt Hen, right?” Jee-Yun thinks about it. She chews a piece of cold carrot, then swallows it. “I think I want to be a firefighter. Parmemedic is too hard to say.”

December

Wherever you find love (make it last all year), M, 12k

Buck first met Eddie on Christmas. This is the story of seven Christmases they spend together.

and finally, I just posted the final chapter of:

Somebody to Someone, E, 32k

Buck wasn't really thinking when he applied to be on the reality dating show Love Island, beyond the fact that he was tired of being alone. Now, he's out of the villa, trying to find some stable ground beneath his feet, but things keep getting in the way. His relationship with Taylor falls apart, he doesn't know what he wants to do with his newfound fame, and then, his tires are slashed by what looks like a stalker. The answer to the last problem, at least as far as Bobby is concerned, is Eddie Diaz — a bodyguard. Buck's not convinced.

Thank you so much to everyone who read even one of these fics, I probably wouldn't have gotten through this year without you, and I mean that!

Tagging some lovely people 🥰🥰

@epicbuddieficrecs @slowlyfoggydestiny @diazsdimples @diazheartsbuckley @speaknowbuckley

@buddieboos @dangerpronebuddie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @disasterbuck @spotsandsocks

@theotherbuckley @your-catfish-friend @steadfastsaturnsrings @aspecbuddie @daddy-kinard

@inell @darkrose6578 @elvensorceress @ladydorian05 @lovelettertothewise

[bullet-prooflove]

Random words for Jalen Shaw: Sneezing, YouTube, Choir.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @storiesofsvu @telepathay @smoothdogsgirl @21bruhs

Companion piece to:

Officer Down - Jalen waits for a call after officer down goes out over the radio.

Too Damn Close - Jalen thinks about what almost happened.

Stubborn - Jalen and your father discuss your relationship.

Insomnia - Jalen tries to talk about your situation.

You’re watching Youtube in church. A video of a kitten sneezing to be exact. Jalen can see your phone over your shoulder as he sits in the pew behind you listening to the choir as it reaches it’s peak.

He hasn’t seen you since the night he’d walked out. He’s tried calling, tried texting but you haven’t responded. He tries to tell himself that you’re busy, but he knows the truth. You’re avoiding him because you don’t want to face the reality of your situation, you don’t want him to see how twisted up you really are inside.

“I’m dragging her to church on Sunday.” Your father had told him when they met for their weekly chess game. “I’m hoping the Lord can work some magic on her, because I am running out of ideas.”

Jalen is too.

He heard from a couple of buddies out in your precinct that you’ve been spending a lot of time in O’Malley’s since he left. He’s worried about where that’s leading, if you’re using alcohol as a way of coping now that he’s not on the scene.

“Lainey.” He hisses, leaning in close and you don’t acknowledge him, you’re too focused on that silly little video so he puts his hand on your shoulder and your reaction…

He suddenly understands why you’re watching the video. It’s the only thing staving off the panic attack that’s been looming over the past couple of minutes. Your breath catches, your phone clattering to the floor and the sound, it’s like a gunshot, the one that had been meant for you that day.

You bolt from the pew, hurtling towards the doors and Jalen he takes off after you because he knows you aren’t here in church with them anymore, you’re back there on the steps of the court house, someone else’s blood staining your hands.

You pause when you get outside, flinching at the sudden rush of noise from the traffic and it sends you even further down the rabbit hole. It’s all too overwhelming, the sights, the sounds, the smells. It chokes you, expelling the air from your lungs.  You can’t draw a breath. Your knees they quake before giving out completely. Before you can hit the concrete, strong arms wrap around you, pulling you up, holding you close, supporting you.

Jalen.

The scent of his cologne floods your senses as he draws you back against his chest, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through his chest as he whispers.

“I got you Lainey, it’s alright. I got you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[woooyeahbaby]

not even the laundry is safe

in which the obey me brothers are caught sniffing mc’s underwear?! also idk if i’d say this idea is necessarily stolen but i think about this like daily.

warnings: panty sniffing.. obviously, which obviously leads into the boys being pervs, maybe ooc for some of them, i’m unable to sleep and it’s 5am so there may be errors, belphie is definitely ooc okay yeah wow i can’t write for him i’m so sorry, leviathan’s part is a little longer than the others’ because of favouritism, reader is heavily implied to be fem, i’m extremely embarrassed about this especially now that i realize i did really badly on belphie’s part, TO MY FRIENDS PLEASE DON’T READ PLEASE THAT INCLUDES MY BF I’M SORRY!!!, no smut but still sexual implications so like 16+, okay my eyes hurt goodnight

Lucifer

it was lucifer’s day to do laundry, and you needed to talk to him. mammon had been stealing some valuables, and you knew he wouldn’t listen you directly, so lucifer was the next best thing. when you couldn’t find the eldest anywhere else, you knew he’d probably be doing the laundry.

of course you expected to see him doing laundry, what else would he be doing in the laundry room? well, you certainly didn’t expect to see him with your underwear pressed against his nose. it took you a moment to even realize what he was doing.

“hey lucifer, can i—” before you could get the rest of your sentence out, you processed what he was up to.

lucifer had been caught off guard as well, not expecting you to catch him in the act. but, being the avatar of pride, he can’t exactly show embarrassment here, no matter how bad it may seem.

“ah, mc.” lucifer puts the piece of clothing into the washing machine, clearing his throat. “i was just curious.”

“well then. um…” you can’t help but wonder how he can be so calm about this. “that was a sight to see.”

“my apologies. i will say, i have never done that before. i enjoyed it. now, did you have something to discuss with me?” he questions, casually tossing more items of clothing into the washing machine.

you want to ask if he’s serious, you want to show how baffled you are, but you realize he just wants to change the topic. not wanting to anger him or embarrass him any further, you decide to tell him what you truly came to talk to him about.

Mammon

your wallet had gone missing, and after searching your room, you thought the next best place to check was mammon. where else could it have gone, anyway? when you remembered what day it was, you knew it’d be useless checking his room and made a beeline for the laundry room.

you’re just about to speak when you see mammon with a pair of your panties shoved in his face. not only that, but a few others were shoved in his pockets.

“mammon?!” you blurt in surprise.

“wah! oh, hah! mc!” mammon tosses the underwear aside, looking at you with wide eyes. “i was, ah, tryin’ to tell who’s they were.”

“mammon… not only were they in my basket, but i don’t think anybody else in this house wears those.” you argue. “i’m not exactly mad, but.. what are you doing?”

“i was just seein’ if they.. okay, i got no excuse. what’re you gonna do, arrest me? what are ya doin’ here anyway?!” he’s getting very defensive. it’s almost cute, if not for the context.

“i’ll give you 1,000 grimm if you apologize. and if you give the rest back, i see them hanging out of your pockets.” you cross your arms.

“i’m so so so sorry! i’ll never do it again!” he exclaims, tugging the others out of his pockets and tossing them away.

“okay, first you have to give my wallet back.”

Leviathan

(sorry side note, this man is the biggest fucking panty sniffing perv, alr alr i’ll let you get on with it now)

you thought i’d say it was leviathan’s laundry day? not only does this man not do laundry, but it doesn’t even have to be his laundry day for him to get a hold of your panties.

you were out for the day, shopping with asmo. you just happened to come back at the worst time. you were parting ways with asmo in the hall, about to enter your room so you could find a spot to put all of your new items. you heard movement in your room, and at first, you thought it was mammon stealing things.

“mammon!” you shout through the door as you twist the handle, swinging the door open. “i told you this yester— oh. oh.”

the realization sets in as you and levi stare at each other, both having the same surprised expression. except he still had your underwear pressed against his nose.

“um. levi, buddy?” you say in a soft, yet shocked tone. “what uh.. what’re you doing?”

he needs a few seconds to collect his words, but he still has to reply. of course, still keeping your panties against his face.

“i-it’s my laundry day, i was seeing if these were clean.” his voice is quiet and muffled, but you can still make out the words.

“levi, honey.. we both know you don’t do laundry. and that isn’t even true, it’s belphie’s day…” you shut the door behind you, approaching the poor, terrified demon.

“i-i’m really sorry, okay?! i’m j-just a gross otaku! i’m sorry! please forgive me!” he nearly shouts, his self deprecating talk continuing on and on until you can’t take it anymore.

“leviathan! hey!” you yell to interrupt him, your voice being raised finally catching his attention. “it’s.. it’s okay. i mean, not really, but.. i’m not really mad. you’re not gross, you’re just.. having fun, let’s say.”

leviathan stares at you blankly, his eyes just as wide as they were when you first stepped in. he seemed so upset and embarrassed, yet he still had your damn underwear up to his face!

“levi, can you put those down and then we can talk about this a little more?”

Satan

your d.d.d wasn’t allowing you to send images, and you scrolled upon the cutest picture of a cat. and who loves cats? satan! you remembered he decided to do his laundry duties, so you knew where to look. you were so excited to see his reaction, knowing his soft spot for cats.

after passing a couple of the brothers in the hall, you reached the laundry room. you open the door, a wide smile on your face. until you saw what he was doing.

“sa—! ..tan?”

“mc! what are you doing in here? it’s not your day, silly!” satan swiftly throws the underwear into the washing machine, acting like he wasn’t doing anything in the first place.

“i was gonna show you this cat.. but…” you’re unable to word what you just saw.

“ah, you caught me being interested in another form of pussy, i see.” he clasps his hands together, smiling. you can’t help but choke on air as he says this.

“satan, what?” you find yourself laughing instead of being angry or upset about his actions.

of course, he takes this chance to avoid the awkward conversation about what you just caught him doing. that was his intention with the joke in the first place. why is he so sly…

“anyway, a cat photo?” he raises an eyebrow, eager to see what you found on your d.d.d.

once your laughter dies down, you take a deep breath.

“i’ll show you after you explain what the hell you were just doing.” you smile.

“i told you. and i’m sure you know what i was doing. i.. read it in a book once and thought i should try it. i apologize.” he seems disappointed in himself, his head hanging low.

“it’s alright, kinda.. i’m not mad. just very, very confused.”

Asmodeus

see, asmo is kind of like levi. however.. he isn’t ashamed of it, and in fact.. does it right in front of you.

you invited asmo to your room in hopes he could help with your fashion choice of the day. as soon as he stepped in, it was like he made a beeline for your laundry basket.

“ooh, mc’s laundry?” asmo has a devilish smirk on his face as he roots through it, as if he was searching for something specific.

“hey! asmo, what are you doing?!” you shout, clearly embarrassed. especially because you knew what he’d find in there.

“these are cute, mc!” he holds up a pair of your underwear, giggling.

you thought he was only teasing and making a joke until he brought them to his face, taking a deep, loud inhale. your jaw dropped as you watched him do this. what else were you to do?

“very sweet! i’m glad you’re eating well!” he places them back into the basket as if he didn’t just.. do that.

“wh.. asmo?!” you can’t help but laugh slightly. “what was that?”

“hm? oh, when you eat well—”

“no, not that, why did you smell them?” you interrupt the demon, baffled by his action.

“sorry, it’s just instinct, i guess!” asmo merely giggles and takes a seat on your bed. “now, you had outfits to ask me about?”

Beelzebub

you and beel decided to have a little sleepover in your room, but made sure to only text about it so none of the others knew. it would’ve been a pain if they barged in on you and beel’s bonding time.

of course, you two shared the bed, and beel was being the big spoon. his strong arms were wrapped around your waist, until he suddenly woke up in a need for a little midnight snack.

in his defense.. he thought it was food. he really did. beel was half asleep, too tired to go to the kitchen, and smelled something he deemed delicious. i guess it didn’t cross his mind that he was going through your dirty clothes. it also didn’t cross his mind that he may have woken you up with all the movement.

“beel?” you mumble, turning the bedside lamp on to have better sight of what he was doing. “hey, get those out of your mouth!”

“mm?” beel hums, seeming to finally wake up properly. once he realizes, he spits them out. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know!”

“what does that even mean— y’know what, it’s fine. i’m not mad, i’m just tired.” you groan, placing a hand over your eyes. you turn off the lamp.

“it’s fine? okay.” there’s a second that passes where you don’t process what he meant, but you notice the sound of him picking something up.

you don’t fully understand until you hear his lips smacking.

“beel! that isn’t what i meant by it’s fine!”

Belphegor

it was breakfast time, and you noticed belphie was going to miss out on all the food if he didn’t wake up soon. so, you excuse yourself from the table, heading up to get him.

you knock before entering, but since it’s belphie, you hear nothing. you don’t bother to knock again and instead just enter. you move closer and closer, about to wake him up gently until you recognize a fabric belphie fell asleep with in his hand, close to his face.

“is that my underwear?!” you only meant to think that, but it came out as a shout. your voice managed to wake him up.

“hmm?” belphie hums groggily. “oh, yes. your scent helps me sleep. if you want them back, you can’t have them.”

“i can’t have them back?! belphegor, they’re mine!” you were somewhat okay with the previous words, until he said you couldn’t have them back.

“mine now. anyway, why did you wake me up? did you want to cuddle?” he raises the blanket, making room for you.

“no, i came to tell you breakfast is getting cold.” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“well now you’re here to cuddle. come on.”

[thotsofintrusion]

i’ve been sick these past few days so here’s a bit based off of that

warning: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), overall this is pretty soft

bf!minhee who comes home to you laid out in bed, covers half off your body and your shirt pushed up under your chest, shorts having risen to meet the junction of your legs and torso. there’s an open tissue box next to you, cold medicine on the bedside table, and netflix open on your laptop, paused on the are you still watching screen. minhee feels your forehead and finds that you’re quite warm, but not so warm that he’s worried. he goes about cleaning up around you, collecting any used tissues he finds and moving your laptop elsewhere. when he goes to cover you up, minhee once again takes a look at your body, and can’t help his thoughts wandering.

with your shirt and shorts pushed up he can see the bruises he left the last time he had you, and he wonders when he’ll be able to make more. you shiver, and minhee is reminded of the way you tremble when you cum under him and shake when he teases you. he unconsciously begins to rub his hands up and down your thighs, and he can feel you relax underneath him. you turn to face away from him, and minhee is greeted by the sight of your shorts having ridden up so high that the lower half of your ass cheeks are exposed, as well as the edge of the hand print he left just under a week ago.

seeing your ass only serves to rile minhee up further and before he can stop himself he’s grabbing your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze over your shorts, causing you to let out a quiet whimper that goes straight to his cock. minhee is lost on what to do; he knows this problem won’t go away on its own any time soon but he hates getting off using his hand or a fleshlight, but he would also hate to wake you when you’re sick. but he has to do something.

then he remembers a conversation the two of you had just a few weeks ago. minhee had been asking if there was anything you’d like to try in bed and after thinking for a bit you said somnophilia. at the time, minhee had no idea what that was but, after you explained it to him and discussed it a bit more, he said he’d think about it and get back to you. since that conversation, minhee had been true to his word and thought about it, but he couldn’t decide if he wanted that or not.

until now.

seeing you like this - weak, vulnerable, exposed - minhee couldn’t help but want to take what he needed from you, regardless of what you would think about it. so he decides, he will. he opens his pants and pulls them and his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out. he moves you onto your stomach and pulls your shorts aside, rubbing at your clit while he strokes his cock, getting the two of you ready. once he’s at full mast, minhee leans over to the top bedside drawer and pulls out the lube. you haven’t gotten quite as wet as he’d like, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer, so he lubes his cock and your hole, slipping a finger in to spread it around a bit. and when you’re nice and slick, he starts.

minhee places the head of his cock at your hole, and slowly pushes in, feeling your cunt stretch to accommodate him, and himself relaxing into you, just a little. he stays there for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your walls around him. he whispers a soft “i missed you” into your ear and kisses your temple before beginning to thrust slowly into your heat. he doesn’t want to wake you, so minhee keeps his pace slow and soft, despite every inch of his being telling him to speed up and take what he wants.

but what he really wants is for you to be healthy. sure at the moment he wants to get off, but in the long run he’d rather torture himself with slow thrusts than wake you up from your well deserved nap and possibly delay your healing. so he doesn’t speed up. he doesn’t go any harder. and it doesn’t matter. because even though the stimulation was slow moving and soft, and he was missing your pussy clenching around him, it still works. after quite a few minutes of thrusting slowly and leaving light kisses on the back of your neck, minhee cums into your unprotected hole. it’s nothing big, no more than a few harsh breaths leaving his mouth, but it’s enough to satisfy him for the time being. and so after ensuring that his load has filled you up nicely, he pulls out and moves your shorts back over your cunt, covering you with the blankets and leaving to order some soup for you.

[enchxanting]

our love is god [ethan landry x reader] pt. 8

read part seven here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: angst then fluff then angst again i'm gonna give you whiplash, emetophobia warning (not graphic just implied), discussion of suicide

a/n: next chapter is gonna be crazy... just fyi so stay tuned i lowkey can't believe i've kept up with this through 8 chapters but i'm glad i did because it's been super fun interacting with you guys and a rlly good writing exercise. enjoy this short chapter!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Diary,

Funerals blow. I suppose they blow more when you were the one to accidentally kill the person, but I think they still blow in general. I tried saying something to Tara when we were all throwing roses into the grave (I know, how trite), but I ended up talking to God instead. I said something dumb, like “Technically, I did not kill Tara, but, hey, who am I trying to kid, right?”

I’ve started coping with humor.

No one ever feels much like celebrating at a teenager’s funeral. Sam was a wreck; barely even talked. I started a conversation, but she just stared through me. Mindy and Chad kept trying to get my attention, but I’m still kind of avoiding them. It’s easier this way, just to be with Ethan.

Speaking of, he didn’t show. Of course, no one was expecting him to– except me. I don’t know, I thought he’d want to be here.

I should probably go. I’ve been away too long, it’s getting suspicious.

Y/N

I close my diary in my lap and shove it into my bag. I’ve been writing in one of the bathroom stalls for the last ten minutes. Trying to kick the hand-washing habit. It’s hard to do much of anything with chapped fingers. Even though Dr. Stone’s writing therapy feels useless, it keeps my hands busy.

Making my way out of the women’s room, I spot my parents in the far corner of the church lobby. My mom has her head down, and her glassy eyes tell me that she’s reading some Times article that we’ll discuss on the car ride home instead of my best friend’s tragic suicide. My dad has the same vacant stare, too, but he’s not absorbed in anything– just staring out a window on the opposite wall.

For some reason, the sight makes me sick– I can’t spend another minute watching it. I storm out of the doors, chest heaving. 

Crossing the street, I end up on a small patch of grass by the parking lot. I double over, short of breath, and everything comes up. I’d be mortified if I didn’t feel like shit.

As I finish retching, I feel a hand on my back. I stiffen and turn to look.

“Fuck, Y/N, are you okay?” It’s Chad, with Mindy close behind.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Sorry. Just overwhelmed.”

His eyes soften. “I get it.”

I can’t lie: it’s good to see the two of them. After avoiding everyone but Ethan for so long, the relief I feel at being with them outweighs my grief and guilt for the first time in days.

“Are you guys holding up any better than me?” I ask.

Chad laughs softly. “To be honest, no. I try not to think about it. I’ll get sucked into the cesspool of grief.”

“Yeah.” I nod in agreement. “I get that. What about you, Minds?”

She sighs. “Thinking too much, I guess.”

“Mm.”

There’s a long pause between all of us, but I don’t mind. I appreciate the quiet after the service.

Chad clears his throat. “So, um, we get that you’ve been MIA recently, and that’s cool because grieving is personal and all, but we miss you. A lot, actually. So will you please, please, please come have dinner with us tonight? At our place? Our parents are going out, so we can break into their wine cellar like we used to, I will cook, and Mindy will let you choose the movie for once.”

“I don’t know about that last bit,” Mindy intervenes, and Chad gives her a playful shove. “But, yeah. Please?”

I should probably say no, but, fuck, I miss them. “Okay.”

“Yes!” Chad hugs me tight, and pulls away, grinning. “We missed you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger right now. We’re a team– you, me, Mindy, and Anika.”

Mindy groans. “Save your pep talks for your actual team. Season hasn’t even started yet, dork!”

“Yeah, whatever. We’ll see you tonight, okay?”

I roll my eyes at them as they walk away. “See you then.”

For the first time since Tara died, I let a big smile creep onto my face. Maybe this will all be okay.

That is, until I catch a glimpse of a dark jacket and curly hair in my peripheral vision. Turning sharply, I see Ethan, parked in his car across the street. He’s staring at Chad as he and Mindy walk towards their car.

Then he turns and looks at me, and my blood runs cold. His eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. There’s no hint of that softness I’ve become used to, but they’re not wild like last night in his car. His eyes are dark and stony, perfectly calculating.

Against my better judgment, I start towards his car, but his engine roars to life. He drops his gaze, and I stop before I reach the curb. 

Ethan speeds away without looking back.

taglist: @miawastakens dm or reply to be added!

[yanderechuu]

do any of the teachers ever notice the things happening to y/n? (i headcannon Mic and Midnight as yanderes that would give advice to 1A lol)

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[2.1K]

Summary: Aizawa is the first one you approached in regards to your certain predicament.

Warning: nonconsensual recording

│

Aizawa suspected something wasn’t quite right by the moment he saw you entering the class a minute before the bell rang, all haggard and teary-eyed, though you tried your best to obscure your disposition. He always knew you to often be in a state of discomfort whenever you were compelled to socialize, especially with your classmates, but now - you looked as if you reached your limit of holding the weight of the world on your shoulders, crashing down all at once as depicted on your crestfallen expression. 

And when you showed up in front of the faculty room, timidly soliciting his presence, his suspicions were only further verified. Even with a pending question regarding subject matters in your mind, you weren’t one to approach a teacher to inquire about it, and if you did it was because the teacher was the one who would ask your attendance; never the other way around.

Present Mic was the first one to acknowledge you. He stood up from his office chair, waving at you comically. “Yo, (l/n)! Having trouble with English again?”

You never had a problem with his subject; he only insisted that you’d come to him in regards to that. “N-no, not really. May I speak to Aizawa-sensei?”

“Talk with me instead!” He enthusiastically spoke and headed over to you. “Come on, what’s the matter?”

“It isn’t your place to ask that when I’m here.” Aizawa interceded, clearly unimpressed by Mic’s antics. He failed to see the latter’s displeased countenance. “(L/n), what is it?”

You avoided eye contact with him, averting your view to the ground - that was alright. You were always like this, and he didn’t mind. Nothing out of place except for the fact that it looked as if you were about to cry any moment now.

“Can we- can we, um, talk somewhere more private?” You asked quietly.

His brows raised in wonder at your request. Nevertheless, he didn’t decline you, only nodding lackadaisically before heading towards the teacher’s lounge, where you followed him suit. He flicked the door tag to ‘occupied’ and entered the room after you, when he told you sit on the three-person sofa situated not quite on the farthest left of the space. Then, he settled himself on the chair across you.

“Well?” He asked, expectantly.

But you had once again your head above a thick cloud of anxiety. You knew that after the event with Momo in the girls’ locker room - where you had injured her against your will because she had been violating your personal space - your homeroom teacher kept a cautious eye on you in case you’d re-enact that incident. And it wasn’t just that incident that made him look at you like you were a criminal on the loose, either. Your classmates found and did a lot of ways to place you in Aizawa’s naughty list just so you wouldn’t snitch on their abusive (they’d call it affectionate) behavior on you.

That didn’t erase the fact that you were nevertheless his student; he cared for you no less than he cared for his other pupils, yet you were just too ignorant in figuring that out. All that mattered to you was that you’d voice out your current concern to him, but with your insecurities holding you down it seemed it would be more difficult than you had primarily foreseen it to be.

“I-I,” you stammered out, fiddling with something inside your pocket, “u-um, you see, t-there’s this, I mean, I can’t-”

He grew increasingly frustrated with your constant stuttering, and although he did understand your shy nature which largely affected your conversational habits, he only had so much patience to deal with it.

“I don’t have all day.” He stated, glowering at your form in mild irritation. “If you’re going to keep doing that, talk to the wall.”

You abruptly halted in speaking after that, only looking down on your lap, staring wide-eyed, grief-stricken at the revelation that perhaps he really did not want to heed any of your words because you were just that bad of a student that he had decided you were not worth much the effort to concern himself with. And maybe he was right - that your words didn’t matter because you didn’t matter; that there were more affairs he better be tending to than yours; that you were only making a big deal out of this when it truthfully wasn’t.

Oh god, you felt like vomiting. Self-deprecation was getting the better of you.

He stood up and sauntered to the exit, not bothering to spare you a glance. “Come back to me when you actually know what you want to say.”

It was a matter of seconds when you ran to him, pulling him back rather harshly by the grip you had on his sleeve. He turned around due to the force to see your head still hung low, avoiding his gaze as always - only, your shoulders were quivering sporadically, and occasional sniffs were heard from your person.

“P-please, sensei...” you voiced out, shaken and horrifyingly delicate. “I-I’m so scared. Please.”

While he looked at you with contracted irises, countenance now alert from your unexpected disposition, you pulled your trembling hand out of your skirt pocket, nervously disclosing to him from your palm a small, black device with a tiny yet prominent lens.

“M-my room,” you heaved, “I-I saw this i-in my room, m-my closet, while- while I was dressing up, and I don’t know how long it had been in there but it probably already caught me bare and-”

You broke down in a flurry misery and shame, allowing yourself to fall to the ground but you didn’t - Aizawa seized you in his arms, his gentle, fatherly arms that could only do so much to console you from the horror of your reality. And he held your head as you cried on his chest, one little thing he could do after ignoring your situation and letting you think that your significance was less than the rest of his other students. At that moment, you were just so little, so fragile, so naïve he’d keep you in his pocket if he could. Why would someone do something as debauched as illegally recording your innocent self?

“I’m sor-sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m really telling the truth, p-please-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t doubt you.” He reassured. Why were you apologizing? Were you that insecure of being a nuisance? No, no, you never were. Not to him. He reached for your hand to take the cursed device. “Since when did you find out?”

“J-just this morning.” You responded.

“Alright. Do you want to rest? This must have taken a huge toll on you.”

But you still had classes ongoing. Then again, you didn’t feel like looking at the faces of the prime suspects who possibly did you dirty, even when you knew that you’d have to eventually interact with them to get notes of your missed lessons. You were so tired from summoning the lot of your courage to confront your teacher regarding your problem, so you probably wouldn’t have the energy to listen to class discussion. Aizawa finalized your decision by pulling you up and guiding you towards the office of Recovery Girl who, after being briefed of your predicament by your homeroom teacher, welcomed you with a warm smile, telling you to make yourself comfortable in one of the beds in the infirmary.

He then made his way to 1A classroom, a newfound swelling of rage and disappointment in his chest, both forwarded to his class and to himself because only now did he realize that perhaps you were often so restless and apprehensive in the presence of your classmates because they did things that made you bury yourself in the deepest parts of your shell as a last attempt to revel in a sense of safety. Your timidity was not entirely derived from your own nature; it was also due to the maltreatment you were receiving from your classmates. Halting his steps by the classroom door, he looked through the glass window, seeing the class focusing on Midnight’s lecture.

Well, not quite. He could tell that your classmates were visibly affected by the lack of your presence, glancing at your desk from time to time as quiz papers were being passed behind - so they were in the middle of a test, he guessed. But that wasn’t his concern.

In impudent manner, he walked in amid Midnight’s talking, disregarding her face’s sudden morphing into vexation as the students gave him a look of confusion.

“Eraser, what are you-” she was rudely interrupted as Aizawa took the test reference papers from her hands. Something about Modern Hero Art History, he read. He faced his class with disdain, stating,

“Until someone confesses their crime of hiding a spy camera on (l/n)’s dorm room, all of you are receiving failing marks on this test.”

Quite suddenly, the class burst into violent upheaval, gasping, perking, some allowing the dreadful news of your situation to sink in, others letting out noises of complaint before actually taking consideration to the main point of Aizawa’s statement. Midnight stared at him in disbelief, but did nothing to stop his measures.

Momo abruptly stood. “I-is (y/n) okay? We should go check on her!”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Aizawa said. “All of you are suspects. You’ve no right to see her.”

“She probably just made that up get back on us for whatever fucking reason!” Yelled Bakugou.

“Yeah?” The male pro-hero disingenuously mused. He then picked up the spy camera and held it for everyone to see, before setting it down the teacher’s podium. “This was found on her closet. Would she risk recording herself naked just to prove that point?”

Noise died down thereafter, setting their sights solemnly at the device, the class collectively having the same thought in regards to the spy camera.

(Why hadn’t they thought of that? It could have been easier to check on you that way, since you almost always confined yourself in the privacy of your own room.)

“So? No one wants to speak up?” Aizawa asked, though expected the silence.

“Aizawa, have them approach you after classes. It’s embarrassing this way.” Midnight intervened.

“Well that’s the point. Get them exposed to the entire class, so everyone could realize how much of a perverted bastard one of these to-be heroes are. Good values, my ass.” He replied, not bothering to filter rather colorful vocabulary. “Where’s your dignity?”

He let a minute or two pass for the perpetrator to reveal themselves, but soon it became apparent that whomever they were refused to admit to their crime, willing to sacrifice the grades of the class for the sake of anonymity. That would be deemed useless, anyway, because Aizawa was already set on figuring out whom they were, no matter the extent he’d go to in order for that to happen. He’d expel them at once.

But he didn’t have the power to expel someone outside of his class.

“I guess that’s it for your test.” He sighed, disgruntled, picking up the small camera and sauntering his way out of the classroom after giving Midnight a look that he was dead serious with marking all of them a failing score. She stared at him in uncertainty, nonetheless abided by his decisions, albeit hesitantly.

Upon ascertaining his absence, Midnight turned to Class 1A, amusement and humor dancing on her seductive countenance.

“Naïve, hormonal teenagers,” she mused, “the closet, really? Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere less conspicuous?”

None of them bothered to tell her that they were truthfully unaware of the incident.

===

Hagakure Toru, stealth hero, entered your room silently in the nude, the only proof of her movements being a tinier, different spy camera she’d brought along with her. No, not the closet, you might find it again. It looked so painfully obvious on the desk, too, and neither in the bathroom due to its pale white interior. 

But on the pencil holder situated atop your nightstand would do. You barely moved it, anyway, only having its purpose served as a decoration; something to fill the vacancy of the bedside table. After a few adjustments in camouflaging the device with the environment and making sure the lens displayed the area of your space, Hagakure checked its concealment one more time, before mechanically heading outside and back to her own dorm. 

Her body collided almost violently with her room’s door, snapping her out of her trance. 

“H-huh!? Weird... how’d I end up in my room?” She asked, receiving no answer from particularly anyone.

But Shinso Hitoshi could provide her one, if only he weren’t outside, staring at your terrace from five stories down your room, a gratifying smirk donned on his features. Now, the only thing he had to do was dismantle and relocate the gadgets wirelessly connected with the camera Aizawa had confiscated.

[questforgalas]

March on the Temple pt 2.

Summary: While reflecting on memories of the 501st, Echo receives some disturbing news

Word Count: 4.6K

On AO3

Notes: WOOOO BABY DID THIS ONE GET AWAY FROM ME. This made me cry while writing it multiple times, so strap in for a lot of fond brotherly feels as well as post order 66 angst. Echo needs 8000 hugs, and Hunter is a good brother. Italics indicate flashbacks, all from Echo's POV. This chapter is all Echo's POV. I'm wicked proud of this one and feeling more comfortable in my writing, so I hope you all enjoy too!

Warnings: we be angsty babes. angst with a happy ending, post order 66, fond memories of the 501st, Rex is dogpiled by younglings, Ahsoka, Kix, Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, Appo, and Denal all make appearances, Hunter is there for his big brother

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

“Echo, what does the reg manual say about loth wolves?”

Letting loose his sixth exasperated sigh since this conversation started, Echo closed his eyes with the false hope that he could block out Fives’ increasingly worrying questions.

“No animals of any kind are allowed in the barracks, Fives. Not tookas. Not loth wolves. Not eeopie. And definitely not rancor, before you even ask.”

“But hear me out,” Hardcase starts. “What if we get the general to ‘sign off’ on them? You know he barely looks at the reports before he signs them, always racing off once we land on Coruscant. No way he’d notice a petition for permission to bring a tooka on board.”

“Rex would love a tooka. He just doesn’t know it yet,” Jesse added.

The thing about the 501st, especially Hardcase, Fives, and Jesse, is that their boredom-induced plans were usually harmless. Echo could say that with 87% certainty. But that other 13% … well, the idea of bringing on a “mascot of the 501st” was being discussed longer than Echo was comfortable with.

“Fives, we’ve only been in hyperspace for a rotation. It’s too soon for you to give Rex a headache.”

“Oh come on Echo. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t ….”

The other thing about the 501st is that no matter how many times they made Echo groan, they made him smile twice as often. 

Staring into the bright jungle of Saleucami, Echo found his mind wandering to his brothers and thinking of the trouble they would get into here. Hardcase alone would run Kix out of bandages no doubt thanks to the brightly colored fauna. Echo loosed a sigh and leaned his head back against the side of Su and Cut’s house. Since they fled Kamino, he’s caught himself thinking of his old squad more often than usual.Maybe it was the memories of familiarity while now in a galaxy of uncertainty that brought him comfort. Or maybe because any memories of his newest squad involved one missing member, and the betrayal Echo felt ran deeper than he wanted to acknowledge at the moment.

Fighting hard to not let his mind conjure up images of clones shooting at a Jedi padawan or, worse, a black chamber with the sounds of machines beeping out of sight, Echo reached for memories painted blue.

“Do you think they’ll let us eat in their mess hall? I heard the temple food is some of the best on Coruscant,” Kix hadn’t stopped rambling since they got the orders to meet Commander Tano at the Jedi Temple. Echo didn’t blame him. It wasn’t often non-command clones were summoned to the temple, and even though Fives and Echo walked the halls a few times before, this was Kix’s first visit. So, his energy was nothing but amusing to the other two.

“Is it even called a mess hall here? That doesn’t sound very Jedi. It’s probably called something like ‘The Nourishing Hall’ or ‘Meals of Enlightenment’,” Fives joked. “Yeah, that sounds right. ‘The Nourishing Hall – double your midi-chlorians with every meal’,” he emphasized the title with a streak of his hand through the air like he was displaying a holoboard.

“Sorry Fives, no midi-chlorian doubling meals here. And hate to break it to ya, but it’s just the cafeteria.” Commander Tano’s voice sounding next to them made all three troopers jump at the same time. They looked to their left to find the young Togruta chuckling to herself, clearly amused with her stealthy stunt. Echo whipped his head around wondering where in the Maker she came from. “Jedi stealth must be a nice trick to have,” he muttered to himself.

Once they made it to the top of the stairs, the three troopers stopped to face Ahsoka, awaiting an explanation as to why they were here, but first, she waved over a blue skinned Twi’lek waiting by the entrance. The Jedi, or Echo assumed they were a Jedi, had kind eyes and an even kinder smile – not uncommon amongst the force wielders.

“Echo and Fives, you’ll follow me as I bring you to the briefing room. But first, Kix, I’d like you to meet Jedi Master Vokara Che. She’s the head healer here at the temple,” Ahsoka explained.

Echo looked over and used every moment of his ARC training to refrain from bursting out laughing once he saw the look on Kix’s face. The 501st medic stood there with eyes wide and mouth agape, processing the presence coming toward them. Echo wasn’t familiar with the Jedi Master, but based on Kix’s reaction, he certainly was.

“Hello medic Kix. I’ve heard about the remarkable work you do on the field for your battalion, and, if you’ll allow, I’d like for you to spend time in the healing halls here over the next few rotations. I think we can learn a great deal from each other,” Jedi Master Che spoke with a sing-song voice.

Hands clasped together, the Jedi healer stood patiently as she waited to hear Kix’s response, which, to everyone’s amusement, never came as he was stuck with the same wide eyes and open mouth that formed when the healer joined them. Master Che’s smile quirked up at the corners in amusement. Not able to let their brother make a fool of himself any longer, Fives softly punched Kix’s shoulder to jolt him out of his stupor.

“Don’t mind him, ma’am. We’re still adjusting back to Coruscant time from our most recent mission, but I can speak for Kix when I say he’d be honored to learn from you,” Echo supplied for the medic.

With a bashful smile, Kix finally spoke up, “Echo’s right. It would be an honor, ma’am. Please, show me the way.”

As he was walking away, Kix gave one quick glance back at Echo and Fives with a face that only said “Can you kriffing believe this?” Echo and Fives finally let loose their amused chuckles, and with two casual salutes, the ARCs bid their brother farewell and turned to their Jedi.

“So, Commander, what do the generals have for us this time?” Fives asked.

“Rex hand picked you two for this one. It’s as big as it gets boys. You’re breaking into the Citadel,” Ahsoka informed them with a gleam in her eyes.

Echo jolted off the side of the house, breath coming in pants, needing to put his head in his hand. That was one of his favorite memories, but Echo forgot what it led up to. The gleam in Ahsoka’s eyes. Echo’s excited gasp. Fives confident smirk. Maker, if only they knew what 12 hours later was going to bring them. Was going to bring him.

Recalling the breathing exercises Tech taught him, Echo focused on bringing his heartbeat down and making the ringing in his ears stop. As he gradually recovered, he heard the footsteps of someone approaching from around the house. Based on the soft footfall, Echo knew it was Hunter. He was the softest footed of his brothers next to Crosshair, and sure enough, the sergeant rounded the corner to find Echo slumped at the waist with his elbows on his knees.

“Panic attack?” Hunter simply asked.

“Flashback. Nothing direct. I’m almost back.” Echo rattled off like it was a mission report.

“Mind some company?” Echo looked up and gave his permission with a curt nod. Hunter slotted himself in between the ARC and some feed crates which Echo assumed was to try and give him space as he brought himself back to here and now. Yet, even through the haze of his flashback, Echo didn’t could pick up on the nervous energy coming off of his sergeant. Sure, Omega was almost eaten by a nexu not an hour ago, but he didn’t think it would still contribute to Hunter being this on edge.

“Memories of your old squad usually help, don’t they?” Hunter’s gruff voice broke through Echo’s thoughts, and he looked up with a confused look that had the sergeant chuckling, subtly tapping his ear as if to say, “Enhanced senses, remember?”

“I’d hear you sometimes during your recovery sessions with Tech. Especially during the tougher ones. You’d resort to telling stories of the 501st. I think Tech realized this too. He started to prompt you when he noticed you having a tough time,” Hunter explained. Echo wanted to be surprised, but all Hunter’s observation did was wash a calm wave over his frayed nerves. Typical of his brothers to distract him from the horrors of war even when they weren’t on the same planet – or alive.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as his heart beat finally calmed to a steady beat. Soft rays from the late afternoon sun started creeping around the corner of the house and draped the two in a warm haze. Echo was starting to relax from his episode, but he noticed that Hunter was as stiff as if they were standing at attention on Kamino. Unable to handle the anxiety any longer, Echo spoke up, “Something on your mind, Hunter?”

Echo was expecting Hunter to blink out of his stupor. Maybe jolt his head in Echo’s direction as if he had been lost in thought and forgot the trooper was next to him. What he didn’t expect was for Hunter to let out a deep sigh and close his eyes as if he was struggling to find his next words. Quiet settled over them as Echo waited for him to choose when he was ready to speak. With one more drawn out breath, Hunter finally spoke.

“Have you seen any of the reports coming out of Coruscant?”

Echo’s eyebrows furrowed at the random nature of Hunter’s question.

“We haven’t exactly had a lot of time to take a Holonews break, Hunter.”

“Humor me.”

“No, I haven’t sought out any reports. If I’m being honest, I figured Tech would take on that responsibility and report anything of note,” Echo answered. Seeing Hunter continue to be wound tight caused Echo himself to stiffen. He’d never seen Hunter like this, even with everything that just occurred.

“What’s going on Hunter? Why should I care about imperial reports?”

At last, Hunter’s eyes met his. “Tech was scanning through records and reports during the trip here when he stumbled across something.” Hunter reached across his body, and that’s when Echo noticed a datapad dangling from his belt. Unclipping it, Hunter brought it in front of him and activated it. “It’s an imperial article detailing the attack on the Jedi temple. Would uh, would you like to read it?” He grimaced when he asked. If this exchange wasn’t clouded with nervous energy, Echo probably would have laughed at the sergeant’s attempts to be casual about something that was clearly the opposite.

“Hunter.” The sergeant grimaced again. “Just tell me what’s going on before you make yourself implode.” That earned Echo an amused huff.

“Turns out, the clones didn’t just turn on the Jedi in the field. A clone battalion marched on the temple in Coruscant and wiped the place clean. Tech theorizes that the number of Jedi scattered across fronts at the time was deliberate so the temple was vulnerable. According to Tech, the majority of those in the temple at the time were…”

“Younglings,” Echo finished for him. As he was taking in Hunter’s words, he cast his eyes to the ground finding the Saleucami dirt comforting.

“Yeah, younglings,” Hunter confirmed. Echo felt him angle his body against the house facing him now.

“Why are you telling me this? You’ve sought me out, made sure we’re alone and out of earshot. Why isn’t this something the squad is being briefed on? And why are you grimacing more and more with each of my questions? Hunter, what the kriff are you trying to tell me?”

Echo’s voice started low and puzzled, but it rose with each statement. He managed to keep it to a harsh whisper since clearly Hunter wanted to make sure they had privacy, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to puzzle together what could possibly warrant this serious of a conversation. Thankfully, Hunter didn’t make him wait long.

“Echo, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. The clone battalion that marched on the temple? It was the 501st.”

Echo went still. He saw Hunter keep talking, but his ears were static as he processed the last sentence. “It was the 501st.”

When Echo watched the clones shoot down General Billaba, he’d accepted right then and there that he was going to have to process a lot of things that didn’t make sense to him in the coming future. He was proven right as he listened to the new emperor’s speech, as he saw Tarkin oversee clone evaluations, and as he saw Crosshair wearing all black armor. All of that he saw, he processed, and he adapted. It’s what ARC troopers did. But this? “It was the 501st”.

That one statement kept ringing in his head, refusing to be processed.

“Echo? Echo! Talk to me here,” Hunter’s worried voice broke through the static. Looking around him, Echo realized he’d gone from leaning against Cut and Su’s house to sitting on the ground with his knees in his chest, head held in his one hand. He didn’t remember sliding down nor Hunter coming down with him, putting an arm around his shoulder and giving it soft pats attempting to ground him.

Still feeling like he didn’t have complete control back in his limbs, Echo turned his head to look at Hunter. “That’s not possible, Hunter. Of all the battalions, no. It’s not possible.”

Hunter’s face softened as he took in Echo’s desperate eyes. He knew the look well – it was the same look he wore when he watched Crosshair walk into the hangar on Kamino. Desperate that what his eyes were seeing was a sick trick his exhausted mind was playing on him. He saw Echo struggling the same way as he let the news sink in.

“I know Echo, I know. I’m sorry.” It was all Hunter could come up with for now.

“They – they were there for the rescue. When the Chancellor was taken by Dooku. I spoke with Rex on the way to Kaller. He explained he, Jesse, and half the 501st were going to Mandalore while the other half stayed with Skywalker to go to Coruscant. I remember being envious he was getting to go fight with real mandalorians.” An amused huff passed Echo’s lips.

“The other battalions – they – there were on the fronts. It would’ve left just the Corrie Guard and the 501st.” His head thumped against the side of the house again. “But Hunter, Rex and Jesse were both on Mandalore. Who led the attack on the temple?” There was no one else left to lead. Everyone who would’ve been in command were sent with Rex. Even Commander Tano’s short return sent her to the warrior planet, and Echo admittedly wasn’t entirely up to date on the latest command structure of the 501st, but he was sure no one was left on Coruscant to…

Echo’s head snapped up, and he fought with everything he had to not hurl his lunch right there between his legs. “Hunter. Who led the attack? Who led the battalion into the temple?” Echo asked the questions so quietly that Hunter had to rely on his enhanced hearing to hear them.

“I think you know, Echo.”

“Say it.”

Echo felt more than heard the deep sigh Hunter let loose. “The article says the troops were led by General Skywalker,” Hunter finally admitted.

In war, you go through a lot of breaking points. They can be random, patterned, frequent, or rare. But every trooper has at least one story of when they finally felt it all cave in – the taxing missions, the losses, the anti-clone idealists, the deaths. The clones’ engineered adaptability could usually keep these episodes short, but that didn’t erase the mental scarring each one left. As an ARC trooper, Echo received additional mental simulations since it was assumed they’d see more gruesome realities. But right now, all of the mental simulations and breathing exercises in the galaxy couldn’t keep Echo upright.

It happened in slow motion. Hunter watched as Echo processed this last piece. First, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion like Hunter just spoke Huttese. Then, his eyes widened in shock when the words took meaning. Next, his pupils flared with anger like this was a tasteless prank Hunter was trying to pull. But when Hunter didn’t flinch and kept his face passive, Echo’s eyes showed a half second of acceptance before pooling with tears. In one last attempt to keep his emotions in check, Echo closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breaths. And then he crumbled.

The mental and physical exhaustion of the last 48 hours settled in, and Echo let this final hit tip him over the mental brink he’d been teetering over. The tears sprang quickly, and it didn’t take long for his body to be wracked with heavy sobs. As the world turned blurry, Echo found himself thinking one thing, “Thank the Maker Rex wasn’t there. Thank the Maker he doesn’t have to live with that nightmare on his conscience.”

The hangar of the Resolute was bustling as troopers loaded the last of the supplies. This was going to be one of their quicker relief missions, and the offload should only take an hour, tops. As the last troopers were loading into the LAAT/is ready to head down to the surface, Echo hopped up next to Rex.

“Fives make it on?” Rex asked him.

“And miss the opportunity to be revered like a hero? You know better than that, Rex,” Echo smirked at the captain as he gave an eye roll before putting his helmet on. Rex tried, but he was terrible at hiding his soft spot for the rambunctious ARC trooper.

“Listen up troopers, this is a simple offload and base rebuild. We’ll set the survivors up with basic medical, food, and communication capabilities. If time allows, we’ll assist with rebuilds of the school and main housing sector. Denal, you’ll take R2 and make sure their mainframe is online. Kix, you’ll head the medical setup. I’ll dole out the rest of duties on the ground. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir,” answered in unison. Instead of relaxing though, all of the troopers on their ship, including Echo, remained at attention. Rex smirked to himself knowing what they were waiting for.

“Once your duties are complete, you have permission to free time,” he informed them. Soft whoops filled the LAAT/i. These types of relief missions were Echo’s favorites. Most of the time, they would unload the supplies, set up the required facilities, and then have to ship off to the next battle or war-torn zone. Occasionally though, they had a sliver of time where they could forget they were soldiers and just be.

2 hours later, Echo and Jesse had the common kitchen fully functioning, and they were now helping a group of clones and locals build shelter structures. The locals of this settlement on Haruun Kal were enthusiastic to receive the supplies and help from the clones. Pausing his hammering for a breather, Echo heard a commotion rise up behind him. Glancing in the direction of the noise, he found the source with ease.

Fives, Hardcase, and Appo were surrounded by a group of 12 younglings who were shouting questions at the clones. It didn’t take long for Echo to spot the holoball in Hardcase’s hand, and that answered nearly all of Echo’s questions. Gently, he nudges Jesse next to him.

“Looks like the boys are trying to get a holoball game going with the younglings. Wager on how quickly Fives gets knocked on his sheb?”

“Oh Maker no! They don’t think they’re playing without me!” Jesse exclaims before putting his hammer down and running over. Echo looked around and saw that the structure was complete, so he put his hammer back in the toolbox and wandered over to the group.

“What’s a holoball?”

“Do we have to run with it?”

“Does your armor give you super strength?”

“You’re twice as big as us! That’s not fair!”

“Can I hold your blaster?”

“Are you actually brothers?”

“Have you ever held a lightsaber?”

“Why do you have a tattoo on your face?”

“Ok ok! One question at a time. My brother here is going to explain the rules. Then, if you have any other questions about holoball, and holoball only, we’ll answer them before getting the game started!” Fives attempted to focus the younglings.

When more than 5 seconds of silence passed, Appo got started on explaining the game. Leaning against some crates off to the side, Echo felt a smile crossing his lips observing the younglings listening as if Appo was explaining how to obtain unlimited sweets. A moment later, he felt a presence come up beside him and settle on the crate next to him. Turning his head, Echo noticed Rex observing the scene.

“Holoball, huh? Nice touch. Hopefully, they know what they’re getting into,” Rex hummed. Echo noted Rex’s jaig eyes looking at him from his knee, and he appreciated that this is the most relaxed he thinks he’s ever seen his captain.

“Jesse and I think the younglings are going to run circles around Fives.”

Rex chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a second. Fives is a skilled trooper, but he’s not the most athletic.”

“Hey Echo, we’re down a player! Wanna hop in?” Hardcase interrupted them from the makeshift field.

"I'm good Hardcase, just want to watch.” Then Echo tilted his head to the side. “What about you Captain? Wanna show them how it’s done?”

Echo was sure the look Rex gave him would skewer a rancor.

“Oh please please please Mr. Captain sir! You can be on our team!” A little girl with curly brown hair and big brown eyes looked up at Rex begging him to join. Echo had to keep his laugh in as he witnessed the stoic captain of the 501st melt directly under the youngling’s gaze. It was a similar tactic Echo saw Commander Tano use against the captain, and it appeared Rex was defenseless against it no matter the being.

“Yeah, Captain! Do it for the younglings!” Fives added with a cheeky grin. Rex shot him a quick glare, but he immediately softened again when he looked back down at the little girl.

“Ok cyar’ika, I’ll play.” The younglings erupted as Rex walked over.

To Echo’s glee, and Fives, Hardcase, and Appo’s horror, Rex turned out to be one heck of a holoball player. His team of younglings stood with rapt attention every time Rex kneeled down to draw up their next play. It was clear Rex’s leadership skills weren’t only for the battlefield because every play the younglings executed flawlessly, and soon they were leaving the other team in the dust.

Eventually, Fives gave the order to take down Rex with any means possible. Next thing they knew, Rex has carrying the holoball down the field along with 3 younglings hanging onto his arms and legs trying to take him down. At the last second, Rex was able to pass off to a young girl, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop himself from being tackled to the ground. Instead of stopping the little girl, the rest of the younglings decided this was the perfect time to take the 501st captain out.

Echo couldn’t believe his eyes. 4 younglings were piled on top of Rex tickling him, and Rex was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Seeing the effective strategy, the other younglings turned on Appo, Fives, and Hardcase and managed to take 2 of the 3 down. So there in front of him was the captain of the 501st, an ARC trooper, and Hardcase on the ground being tickled by younglings. Echo looked over at Appo and Jesse, and after a couple shocked seconds, the three of them were doubled over in laughter. They soon found this to be a grave mistake though, because Rex had managed to gain control of the situation again and rallied the younglings to take down the remaining troopers.

Hours later, back in the mess hall of the Resolute, many were gathered around to hear the story of the great holoball tournament of Haruun Kal. Many parts of the story were going to go down in 501st history if Fives had anything to do with it, but the legend of Captain Rex crying from laughter under a pile of younglings was already Echo’s favorite.

A gentle arm circled around Echo’s shoulders, bringing him back to the present. He felt Hunter give him a gentle nudge in his direction. A simple gesture saying, “I’m here. You’re not going through this alone. Use me if you need to.” If Echo had the energy, he’d take Hunter up on his offer, but his body was exhausted and all he could manage was occasionally wiping the tears from his eyes as he huddled over his knees. Always the leader, Hunter remained at his side allowing Echo whatever space he needed to work through the news.

“Do the others know?” Echo managed to ask when his sobs started to quiet down.

“Only Tech. He came directly to me, but it’s your play going forward.”

After what felt like an hour but was more likely a few minutes, Echo was able to even his breathing and lift his head up from his hand. Tilting his head up to the late evening sun, he let the final tendrils of shock and sorrow work their way out of his system. At last, he felt like he could take a full breath again.

“Thanks Hunter. I imagine that wasn’t an easy one.”

“Certainly wasn’t one of our training simulations, that’s for sure,” Hunter chuckled under his breath. Even Echo found it in himself to crack a small smile.

“Well, thanks for telling me. And for staying with me. That w-that was a hard one to process. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to remain here a little longer while I finish collecting myself.”

“Of course, Echo. I know you’ve only been with us a couple months, and everything’s kind of flipped upside down right now, but you’re one of us and whatever you need, we’ll be right here to help you.” Hunter placed a gentle hand on Echo’s shoulder as he spoke, and when he was done, he gave him a soft squeeze before standing up and heading back inside the house.

The sun was making its final descent behind the horizon giving Echo a sense of relief that this day was done. With a slight wobble in his knees, he stood himself up using the side paneling as support. Process and adapt – that’s all he could do. Taking each day one at a time. Feeling his body relax as he accepted this new galaxy, Echo gave a final glance at the sky. A deep, familiar blue blanketed the quiet farm as if it was trying to reach and wrap around him. A thought from earlier popped into his mind – even when gone, the 501st were there to help him see the next day.

Sensing that the peace and quiet had lasted long enough, the galaxy jolted Echo back into reality when he heard the front door slam and Hunter’s voice following. “Tech! Getting our ship impounded is not my idea of a solution!”

Gifting himself one final moment of quiet, Echo readied himself for the next unforgettable memory his newest brothers have no doubt gotten themselves into.  

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Nine

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Thanks so much for the continued love on this fic <3

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Nothing specific for this chapter

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along

Read over on A03, or below the cut

July 2008

Emily yawns as she pours a cup of coffee, grimacing at the taste as she immediately takes a sip. 

“That bad, huh?” 

She turns to look at her boyfriend and smiles as she takes a step back to give him access to the coffee pot, “I’ve had worse.” 

Aaron pours himself some coffee before he turns to look at her. He glances around the room first and sees the others are distracted, affording them a rare second alone.

“How did you sleep?” 

She groans, “Terribly,” she admits, “Apparently I can’t sleep without your big giant body next to me.”

He smirks, taking another sip of his coffee, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

The team didn’t know about them yet, so they were careful when they were on cases and often slept apart. She missed him even though he was there with her, in sight but just out of reach. She knew he felt the same. Not just because he’d told her as much, but because she could sense his desperation whenever they got back after a case to one of their apartments. His grip on her hips tighter as he held her close, as if he would fall to pieces if he didn’t have her. 

“As you should,” she replies, hiding her smile behind her coffee.

“Prentiss, Hotch,” Derek calls over to them, getting their attention, “You guys ready?” 

They both nod, and Emily drains the rest of her coffee before putting the mug down and walking over to the rest of the team. Aaron ends up next to her, just far enough away that it would be deemed appropriate, his coffee still in his hand. She can smell him, his cologne lingering in the air along with something that was uniquely him. She loved to bury her face in his neck and inhale it, surrounded by him in every way, and she finds herself wanting to solve this case just so they can get home so she can do exactly that. 

He brought her comfort, making her feel relaxed despite where they were. A small police station in the middle of nowhere with Derek updating them on what they had so far. She isn’t listening, Derek’s voice fading out as she feels Aaron’s warmth even across the distance between them, and she considers how she might be able to sneak into his room tonight. 

“Prentiss?”

She looks up at Derek, and realises the whole team are looking at her, “Yes?” 

“The victim’s family? You interviewed them,” he says, clearly repeating himself, and she clears her throat, nodding in response.

“Yes, right,” she says, she grabs Aaron’s coffee from him and takes a sip as she walks towards the information board they’d set up, “The last time his family saw him was 3 days before his body was found, which is the same story from the other families.” She looks up and sees everyone staring at her, various stages of shock across their faces, “What?” 

“What was that?” JJ asks, pointing between Emily and Aaron, a smirk on her face. 

“What was what?” Emily asks, and then she looks down and realises what she’s done, the cup of coffee in her hand that was originally Aaron’s an accidental admittance she hadn’t intended to make. A shared coffee had quickly become a part of their morning routine in both of their homes. She went without the Splenda, because he hated the taste, purely to enjoy the simple pleasure of passing a cup back and forth between them as they got ready for the day. Something she had done without thinking here in front of the team. Lured into an all too brief sense of comfort and security by a lack of sleep and Aaron’s proximity. “Shit.” 

“I knew it,” Dave says, a wide smirk on his face as he leans back against the desk he was standing next to. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Aaron says, cutting over any further comments, “We have a case to solve.” 

“Oh, if you think we’re not discussing this you’re crazy,” Derek adds, his eyebrow raised, “How long has this been going on?” 

Emily looks at Aaron and he nods, his hands on his hips, “Since I drove him back from Ohio.”

“That was two months ago,” Spencer says, “Why did you keep it a secret?”

Any further conversation is cut off as the door opens, the lead detective leaning into the room as he explains another body had been found. A sign that the unsub was devolving, his timeline speeding up. 

“We’ll finish this later,” Aaron says sternly, leaving no room for argument as he gives instructions to the team. By the time it’s just him and Emily in the room he walks over to her, a soft smile on his face, “Can I have my coffee back?” 

She groans, handing it back to him, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he says, smiling at her, a glimpse of the man she loved peeking through from underneath her boss, “I’ll just make sure you have an endless supply of coffee next time.”

___

He was a terrible patient. 

It was something she already knew from when he’d been hurt before, but this was different. His injuries were much worse than anything he’d experienced before and his frustration with what he considered a slow recovery was clear. He was being short with her, trying to pick a fight in a way that she was usually guilty of, but she never rose to it. Knowing it was his fear, his worry about what could have been if things went differently was driving it. 

Emily leaves him at home, claiming she was going to go to his to grab some things for him. Her real reason was she needed a little space, something she felt awful for, before she said something she was sure she’d regret immediately. 

As she gets out of the car it feels like something she’d lived before as she pats her pocket to make sure her phone, and then rests her hand on her gun on her hip. She’d got it back after the investigation was complete and she had been found to do no wrongdoing. Even Strauss had gone relatively easy on her, something she hadn’t expected. Emily wondered if it was because she could see the strain Emily was feeling, if it was so evident that their boss who always seemed so blind to their struggles as a team could see it. 

Emily walks quickly into Aaron’s building, ignoring how the back of her neck gets warm. The feeling she couldn’t shake off that she was being watched even though she knew she wasn’t. The danger was gone. She’d gotten rid of it herself. Shot the man who would have torn them all apart given half the chance. She hoped this would fade eventually, that they could get back to some semblance of normal soon. 

Or whatever normal looked like going forward. 

She hesitates as she reaches out for the door handle, closing her eyes and blowing out a breath as she pushes away memories of the last time she was here. 

The blood.

The swish of the knife. 

Foyet’s voice as he taunted Aaron. 

She shakes her head, reaching for the door and pushing it open before she can talk herself out of going in. She closes the door behind her and turns to look around his apartment, she freezes as her eyes fall to the carpet. She’d prepared herself the whole way over. The night she’d killed Foyet she hadn’t paid much attention to the stains on the carpet, all of her focus on making sure Aaron was ok, on getting him out of there alive. Since then she’d seen the crime scene photos, against everyone’s advice, and they were etched into her memory. Blood that belonged to the man she loves and the man who had tried to take him from her merged into a grim pattern she could see with her eyes closed. 

She’d prepared herself to see it the whole way over, expecting the faint smell of copper to be in the air that usually smelt of something that was distinctly Aaron, but the carpet is clean. 

She frowns, confusion making her chest tight, and steps further into the apartment. There’s an envelope on the table that has Penelope’s familiar scrawl on the outside. She takes out the card, a smile flashing across her face at the cartoon of a cat on the front of it before she opens it. 

Bossman & Peaches, 

I had the carpet cleaned for you, they assured me they could get blood out of anything (I didn’t ask too many questions.) 

Pen x

She chuckles, shaking her head at her friend before she puts the card back in its envelope, slipping it into her purse. She pulls out her phone and sends Penelope a text thanking her, grateful that she hadn’t had to think about it herself. It reminds her of a story JJ told her about Aaron, how he’d cleaned Elle’s place for her after she was attacked. Wiping her blood from the wall as if he had smeared it there himself. She can almost picture it if she closed her eyes. How he would be careful to ensure he got it all, showing the same diligence he did with everything he’d ever done. Spurred on by the seeds of misplaced guilt scattered throughout his chest that Elle had only allowed to bloom with the way she later blamed him. 

He’d never spoken to her about it himself. Merely shrugging it off as if it was nothing, as if his kindness was a secret just between them, when she mentioned that JJ had told her. It was one of the many reasons she was in love with him, how he looked after the people he cared about without expecting anything in return. 

She knew how he’d react when she told him what Penelope had done. Claiming it was unnecessary, that he didn’t need help. As if he didn’t still need her to help him wash his hair in the shower, the pain in his abdomen was too much for him to hold his arms up long enough. 

Emily sighs and looks at all the boxes all around the apartment. Aaron and Jack’s belongings were all packed up and ready to be moved. It was something she was sure the team would help with. She’d bribe them with pizza and beer she knew they wouldn’t need to offer up their assistance. 

There were so many memories in every corner of this place. The first time she’d stayed over, both of them too desperate for each other to make it from the couch to the bed. The one, and only, time she’d made him pancakes when they got back from a case at 2 am, leading to her very awkward meeting with his neighbours as they all stood outside as the fire alarm went off for the whole building. Shared moments she’d always treasure, that were now marred by what had happened here. Permanent marks left behind like the scars on Aaron’s chest that still made her breath catch whenever she saw them. 

Her eyes drift back to the clean carpet, and she swears she can still see the outline of the blood even though she knows it isn’t there. She sighs and picks up the key for Aaron’s mailbox from the side, the only thing she’d come by for, and leaves as quickly as she can. 

___

She is next to Aaron on the couch as he goes through his mail. She wanted him to rest, to sleep off the exhaustion he always felt after he had physical therapy, but he refused. It wasn’t worth the argument so she let it slide, merely sitting next to him as he carefully opened each envelope as she drank a glass of wine. 

“We really need to change your address on the rest of your mail. Anything interesting?” She asks, watching him curiously. 

He groans, shaking his head, “Just a lot of medical bills,” he smiles tightly at her as he hands her one of the letters. She takes it from him and she raises her eyebrows at the value looking back at her. 

“And this is with your insurance?” She asks and he nods in response, “Fuck” she says before she hands the letter back, “Good thing we have my trust fund.” 

He freezes, slowly looking at her as she takes a sip of her wine, “What do you mean?” 

She shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if she isn’t saying she’ll write off hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical debt for him without even thinking twice. It made him feel useless, even more so than he already did. He hadn’t been able to protect himself, and wouldn’t have been able to protect her if things with Foyet had happened differently. It made him feel worthless, so this on top of it, the feeling that he couldn’t provide for his family, made it worse. He knew he couldn’t say it, that thinking it was ridiculous enough in itself. If he dared say it out loud she’d let him know exactly how stupid she thought he was being. 

“Aaron,” she sighs, already knowing what was coming, “It’s fine, the money is there for this kind of thing.” 

He tightens his hold on the piece of paper in his hands, scrunching it slightly, “Em-”

“No.” 

He furrows his brow at her, looking taken aback as she cuts across him, “What do you mean, no?” 

She briefly clenches her jaw, familiar irritation climbing up her spine. They’d argued about money before, Aaron’s pride getting in the way when he realised just how rich she was. It had all come up when they agreed he’d move into her place. She owned her apartment outright, although she was in process of getting him on the deeds, so there were no mortgage payments or rent he could contribute to. In the end, she’d agreed to let him pay the bills because he wasn’t going to accept anything less. 

He didn’t seem to understand that this was how she could show her love in a practical way. That she could use the money that came from the very thing that had meant she’d never had a home, her parent’s jobs, to build one of her own. To provide for her family and make them comfortable. To make sure they were safe. 

And she’d already failed him in that regard. 

“I mean, no you aren’t going to talk me out of this. I have the money,” she chuckles humourlessly, “No, we have the money. We’re building a life together Aaron. What’s mine is yours. And this is simple,” she clears her throat, “I can do this to help,” she sees that he’s still unsure, that he still wants to argue, and she sighs, “I paid Penelope’s bills when she got shot. So this isn’t just because you’re excellent in bed and that I think you’re handsome,” she says, smiling wryly, “I’d do it for anyone on the team.” 

It wasn’t entirely true, it was different. There would be more instances like this in future. Injuries from work that would hopefully never be this bad. New cars and a new home they’d eventually buy. The children they both wanted and all the associated costs. They were all things she could pay for without worrying in the slightest, but she knew it would be an uphill battle. 

One she’d take one step at a time. 

“You paid for Penelope’s bills?” He asks softly, and she nods, “You never told me that before.” 

She shrugs, “It’s never come up,” she reaches out for him and places her hand over his, linking their fingers together, “Aaron, I love you. Even though you’re the most stubborn man on this whole planet. Just let me do this.” 

He hesitates, but he nods, relenting on this occasion. He knows he’s done the right thing when he sees the relief on her face. It makes guilt cut through him, sharp and vicious in a way that felt achingly familiar. They hadn’t spoken in any depth about the detail of what happened that night, but he knows her well enough to understand she was blaming herself. That in some twisted way she thought she somehow should have stopped him from getting hurt. 

“Ok,” he says, squeezing her hand, and offering her a smile. 

“Thank you.” 

He laughs, “I think I should be thanking you.” 

Emily shifts closer and kisses him, placing her hand on his cheek to hold him in place as she rests her forehead against him. 

“I love you.” 

He lifts his arm, wincing slightly at the pull in his chest as he cups the back of her head. He kisses her forehead as he tangles his fingers in her hair. 

“I love you too,” he replies, grateful for a moment of tenderness, of them, in amongst everything they’d survived over the last couple of weeks. “I know this is a lot to ask,” he says, kissing her forehead again before pulling back to look at her, “Especially since you just agreed to pay off my medical bills-”

“I wouldn’t say agreed,” she says, mischief sparkling in her eyes, “More like gave you no other option than to let me do it.” 

He glares playfully at her, “What I was going to ask is can you help me with my hair again?” 

Emily bites her lip to stop herself from smiling. His hair didn’t need washing, not yet anyway, so she saw his offer for what it was. A quiet admission that he needed her, that he appreciated what she was doing. 

They weren’t out of the woods yet. Everything still felt close, stifling as she searched for fresh air. But she should see the light, the first signs that everything was going to be ok flickering over the horizon. 

-x-

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