#i work up the ranks at my intern job and gain the trust of my boss who finally gives me a promotion

[i-love-tubbs-the-cat]

going to clean my house and try to exterminate the various bugs living here now 💁‍♀️ wish me the best of luck i'm scared out of my mind

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 4: Bihotza

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader

word count: 3.5k

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“I still don’t understand why you had to call me here specifically. You know my doctors are more than capable of a few stitches, Crocodile,” you said, glaring at the man you were currently sewing up. If there was any one person that irritated you upon seeing him, it was this man. Mostly because his visits always came with a purpose, and not just a medical one.

The man shrugged. “But you’re the one I trust the most.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “If it was one of my men, it’d be different, but since I’m the one needing the work done, I need only the best doctor.” He looked at you with an unamused expression that he wore often.

You just looked at him with a blank expression, shaking your head. You weren’t in the mood for this. “You always want something. What is it?” 

“Is just wanting you to stitch me up not enough?”

“Crocodile, so help me, I will undo all this stitching and let you just bleed out all over my hospital floor.” You stopped moving your hands, glaring at him and he chuckled. “My, my. All temper today. Did I interrupt something important?”

“You did, actually. I was trying to treat my interns and new nurses to a nice lunch but now I can’t fucking join them because someone thinks they’re so important.” 

The man under your needle scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“If you’re here to try and recruit me to your family again, you should already know by now my answer is no. I’m neutral through and through. If I’m not going to join my own father, what makes you think I’ll join you?”

“Well, your father is losing his power and I’m gaining up on the two most powerful families.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. You laughed, rolling your eyes. Compared to your family and Rosinante’s, the both of your families had been around the longest, so your connections run the deepest around. Most people don’t know the true extent of your power and influence. Crocodile is a relatively new family as he’s the first of his family to rise through the ranks and make a name for himself - an organization, for himself.

Crocodile narrowed his eyes at you. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You sighed, finishing up the stitching and beginning the clean up process. “My family has been around for generations as has the Donquixote family, I don’t think you realize just how much power and influence they have. My father has never been one to flex his power or abuse his connections. He’s a man that works quietly in the shadows. Quite the opposite of Doflamingo who is rather ostentatious with his movements.”

You shook your head, washing your hands as you finished up everything. “We’re old money and old power. You’re new money and new power. It’s a different kind of influence, but don’t think for one moment you’re anywhere near what they are in power. They can squash you like a bug.” 

Crocodile just looked at you, shaking his head. “I still don’t understand how you couldn’t want all that power and influence. Think about what it could do for your hospital.”

“My hospital is doing just fine as you can see. Now, next time, I would appreciate it if you didn’t disturb me for a minor injury that my doctors are more than capable of handling. I have no problems making sure that your family starts and ends with you.” You mustered up the deadliest glare that you could. There was nothing you hated more than people wasting your time with petty bullshit.

“You think my family would crumble just because I’m dead? I have pl-”

“I plan on staying this way until I die. Which, honestly? Shouldn’t be that much longer. Not with this lifestyle and the position I’m in. So I’m going to do what I do and make the most of it.” You shrugged, looking at him as you finished putting everything away.

“Yes. Your connections are too new, too fragile. You’ve been doing this, what? A couple of decades now? Don’t get me wrong, you’ve done an impressive job thus far, but if you think things will carry on if you die without having a proper successor.” You snorted, shaking your head. “You have another thing coming.”

“How long do you plan on staying neutral? Everyone wants you on their side, surely one offer will be tempting enough to sway your decision one day.”

“Now, I’m leaving. Don’t bother me with this shit again.” With that, you left.

--

“He said what?” Marco laughed, shaking his head. “This is, what, the third time?”

You nodded, currently digging into your cold food that you didn’t get to enjoy earlier because of the ‘emergency’. “It’s so fucking stupid. I wish they’d leave me alone and let me do my thing.” Crocodile has been trying to get you to ‘join his side’ for a while now and every time you said no. You didn’t care about wealth or fame or power, you just wanted to help people. You were doing just fine on your own. 

Besides, if you had wanted all that, you wouldn’t have left your own family in the first place. Their power was immeasurable to most, their wealth was astronomical. Technically, a lot of it was still yours. Your father would still give you whatever you wanted, but you didn’t take it. You wanted to make your own name for yourself and stay neutral through and through. You’d feel like you were cheating otherwise.

“You’re too powerful in your own right and they want that - of course they are going to try to recruit you.”

“Which is so wild to me. Like, if I’m joining anyone, it would be with my dad. Not someone else?” The both of you laughed, after all, this isn’t the first time someone has tried to get you to join ‘their side’. It never ended well for anyone.

“Some people still try to bring pops back into the scene too. The man is old and he got out of that a long time ago, let the man be,” Marco said, making you snort. 

“You never truly leave,” you mused in a silly voice, shaking your head with a small sigh. “Speaking of pops, he texted me this morning.” When you had left your family, you had moved in with Marco and his father, Edward Newgate. The man had pretty much taken you in as his own and you even considered him your father as well. You just had two dads now. You still talked to your own, yes, but it was much harder. He was constantly busy and also wanted to respect your wishes of being out of the lifestyle that he was so heavily involved in. 

Marco tensed as you mentioned pops texting you. “Oh? W-What did he say?”

“Just asking how things were going. You know, the typical weekly check in text.” The man before you visibly relaxed. “Oh, makes sense.”

You looked over at him, narrowing your eyes at him. “Also asked me how my love life was going.” 

Marco’s eyes widened as he looked at you. “Oh?” He offered a sheepish grin. “Seems like he just wants you to-”

“What did you tell him, Marco?”

“I don’t know what-”

Your chopstick flew past his head and impaled itself on the wall next to him. He yelped, flinching. His eyes were wide as he looked from the piece of wood sticking out of the wall over to you. You offered him a smile as you tapped your other chopstick on the table idly. “Try again?”

He put up his hands with a sigh. “Fine. Fine. I told him not to say anything, but he was asking about you do naturally I told him. You know I can’t lie to pops.”

“But you didn’t have to tell him about everything! You could’ve just said…I don’t know…anything else! Lie by omission!” 

You shook your head. “Not even that it’s really a lie because nothing is happening!” you hissed at him, pointing your chopstick at him. 

“You and I both know that’s bullshit! You can’t possibly think-”

“Doctor y/n. We have an issue in the lobby. Come as quickly as possible.” The intercom interrupted the two of you and you looked at Marco. “What the hell do they need me for?” You were grumbling as you stood up.

You looked at your best friend, glaring at him. “This conversation is over. And don’t tell your father anything else! I don’t need pops on my ass about my dating life again. He had just finally stopped asking if I was seeing anyone.” He just grinned at you, waving as you left.

--

As you approached the lobby, you heard a voice scolding someone. Was that Law? Who was he yelling at? Was this the issue? Did he take it too far with a patient? 

“Your clumsy ass is going to get me in trouble!” Oh, shit. You quickened your pace.

“Oh come on, Law! I didn’t mean to! And it’s not like I’m going to press charges or anything. We all know it’s my own clumsiness, not-”

“What’s going on here?” You rounded the corner, pausing as you saw the scene before you. One of your large potted plants - your favorite one -  was now knocked to the ground, the vase shattered - dirt and plants all over the place. One of the tables were also broken. Your eyes trailed the path of destruction to a familiar face currently sitting in one of the chairs looking an absolute mess was, of course, Rosinante. He had a large cut on his face and a bloody nose. It looked like there was a cut on his arm too. You couldn’t tell what was blood and what was just the red pattern on his shirt.

What was he even still doing here?

The pair of men before you looked at you with wide, terrified eyes. You could only be amused in his moment, but you kept your poker face. “Well?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips.

The two of them began to stutter and you sighed, shaking your head. You walked over, stepping over the isle of destruction, taking Rosinante’s chin in your hand and lifting his face so you could get a closer look at the damage. You watched as his face turned red once more just like last time. You looked at his arm, taking his hand in yours as you lifted it to examine it as well.

You looked at Law, noticing a devious glint in his eye as he looked at his father. Whatever that was, you didn’t have time for it right now. “Alright. Law, make sure no one gets hurt, I’ll have your father clean this later. And you,” you pointed at Rosinante. You realized that he never formally introduced himself, so you had to act like you still didn’t know him. “Come with me.”

Both of them nodded quickly, the taller of the two jumping up to follow you. Only to, naturally, get caught on something and start falling once again before you caught him before he could crash into anything else. You looked at him. “You seem even clumsier in enclosed spaces,” you commented before taking him by the arm and dragging him down the hallway with you.

You brought him into your office, Marco having already disappeared off somewhere. Your food was missing so you could only assume that he cleaned it up for you. Hopefully he didn’t eat it. You knew he wouldn’t throw it away, both of you weren’t ones to waste anything. But the bastard has stolen your food a time or two.

“Sit.” You started rummaging in your desk drawers for a moment as Rosinante did as you asked. He seemed incredibly tense. You supposed that your fake anger act was working out.

“There we are.” You pulled out a first aid kit, setting it on the desk and pulling out a few items.

“Well, I guess it makes sense why you had a small first aid kit when I ran into you that one time,” he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to ease the silence.

You looked at him for a moment before chuckling yourself, letting the mood lighten. You walked back over to him. “So, I’m assuming nothing happened except your own clumsiness?” you said as you started to clean up the blood on his cheek. 

He sighed, nodding. You paused, glaring at him slightly. “Don’t move your head.” He stiffened. “Uh, okay.” 

“I-I won’t press charges or anything since it’s my own fault I-”

“Oh, I know. Trust me, even if you did, they wouldn’t go through. One look at the video tapes and they’d know.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t be anything except a waste of time to the courts.”

“The receptionist was freaking out which is why she called you. She thought I was going to do that.” He pouted a little, but did his best not to move too much.

“Well, we’ve been sued for smaller reasons. They never win, but a lot of my time is wasted. Nothing irritates me more than when people waste my time.” You made a face as you thought of your impromptu meeting with Crocodile earlier. His stupid ‘emergency.’

Rosinante’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, I must be wasting yours then! I’m so sorry! You’re always patching me up and saving my ass. You must hate-”

You watched him with an incredulous expression. “Who said you were wasting my time?” He stopped, looking at you with surprise. “Well, you said-”

“I know what I said. Helping someone who injures themselves because they’re just accident prone is different than when someone is deliberately trying to waste my time or try and get something from me.” You let out a small sigh, shaking your head. 

You started to bandage up his cheek and he just stared at you with a look that you couldn’t quite place. You opened your mouth to ask what he was staring at you for when he finally spoke. “You’re so kind.”

You paused, blinking several times as you tried to process what he said. “Huh?” You looked at him as you finished up his bandage. “What are you on about?”

“Just an observation.”

A look of confusion crossed your features as you tried to process what he said and why. “I-I’m just doing my job,” you mumbled as you started to clean up the cut he had on his arm. 

“But you genuinely care - not a lot of people do.”

“You kind of have to in my-”

“I’ve met plenty that don’t.”

You just looked at him and he was looking at you with a soft expression that was making your heart race. A memory resurfaced. The one where he told you that they had went to countless doctors that didn’t seem to care about figuring out what was wrong with Law at all way back when. You supposed that he’d probably seen his fair share of shitty doctors. 

“You sure you didn’t hit your head? You’re spewing nonsense.” You turned to focus on your task at hand. “This is going to need stitches.”

You went back to your desk, rummaging around before pulling out a small suture kit. You rounded back to him, pulling over a chair and straddling the back of it. “Set your arm as straight as you can on the arm of your chair,” you said. He nodded, following your instruction.

As you were preparing the hook, he spoke up again. “You remind me of them.” You raised a brow, but not looking at him as you were focused on what you were doing. “Of who?”

“The one that saved my son.” His voice was soft again and you paused, tensing for a moment. Hold on, he just said you reminded him of them. Not that you were them. Take it easy. “Oh?” You continued what you were doing.

“How long have you been here, y/n?” You glanced at him for a moment before shrugging. “A long time.” You moved to start the process of stitching him up.

“How long is th-” He let out a loud hiss as you punctured him. 

“Focus on not moving.” He just let out a long breath, nodding. He let his head fall back and gripped the chair as you did your thing. You just didn’t want him asking any more questions. You could only lie so much before it started taking a toll on you. Lying about something like this was different than lying for another reason. You hated lying in general.

Luckily for him, you were phenomenal at your job. You had the whole process done in record time, so he didn’t even have to stress for too long. You cleaned up everything, noticing the pale look on his face. He was panting slightly from tensing and being in so much pain. You could’ve given him numbing cream, but that’s what he gets for breaking your favorite potted plant. And you knew he could take it. You walked over, washing your hands after cleaning everything up and removing your gloves.

You grabbed a water bottle from your minifridge, handing it to him. “Drink this. You need to stay hydrated.” He took it, thanking you and drinking it. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked, sitting in the chair behind your desk.

The man shrugged. “I mean, as good as you can when you’ve just been patched up.” He pouted slightly and you laughed.

“Well, if someone paid attention to where they were going, they might be able to not fall as often.” 

The man opened his mouth to retort but resulted in just puffing out his cheeks and pouting more. He folded his arms and slouched in his chair. Honestly, the whole look was comical considering his large stature. 

“Now that you’re all patched up, however.” You looked at him, leaning forward and clasping your hands together. “I think someone needs to clean up the mess they made.” You grinned at him.

His eyes widened and he stood up suddenly. Way too fast for someone who just lost a good amount of blood. You watched as his eyes rolled back and he started falling. You reacted quickly, basically vaulting over your desk as you caught him in your arms. “Dammit, Rosinante,” you grumbled.

He came back quickly, having only fainted for a moment. “W-what?” He looked at you, his face immediately turning red as he noticed you were still holding him like you were dipping him during the waltz. “I-I’m sorry!” He scrambled to stand only to smack foreheads with you. “Fucking-” You helped him stand before, pressing your hand to your head. Fuck, that hurt.

“I’m sorry!” He seemed frantic and you held up your hand, shaking your head. “It’s when you spaz out like this that accidents happen. You need to learn to take your time.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you started to feel a headache coming on. This man was absolutely a handful. Though, at this point, you were starting to accept that you were going to see him a lot more often. If Law was going to be doing his residency at your hospital, running into Rosinante was inevitable - and whatever games Fate was playing, you knew you would run into him more and more often as time went on.

“You fainted because you stood up too quickly. First of all, you shouldn’t move so rashly when you’ve lost a lot of blood. Two, you, of all people, shouldn’t be moving so rashly to begin with because that’s how things get destroyed. Three, I was teasing you. Yes, I’m still going to make you clean up your mess, but you don’t have to rush there and do it. It’s okay to take your time.” You smiled at him, gesturing for him to sit down. 

“Now, I’m going to grab you something to eat, okay? That’ll do well with the blood loss.” You stood up and he just stared at you. It was a look between amazement and bewilderment.

“I’m not asking you again, Rosinante. Sit.” His eyes widened and he did what you said, immediately sitting down as you headed for the door. “Stay and don’t move. I don’t need you breaking anything else or passing out in the middle of a hallway okay?” He just nodded, not speaking for whatever reason, but his face was almost as red as the heart printed on his shirt.

“Good. I’ll be back.” With that, you headed out.

[laura-de-milf]

I know we don't (yet?) have the full story for the Niles-vs-Laura situation, but so far I feel like there's a suspicious discrepancy between what we've been told vs what we've been shown about their early Bureau days and how that contributed to however their relationship left off. And I am dying for more insight into this.

We're told from the outset that Laura's the villain and the betrayer, and that Niles considers her a danger to the Doom Patrol. We're told that she's a "self-serving cancer to be excised". (And...we're meant to trust him? Because Niles is...good?)

What we're shown is two seasons of drip-fed backstory where Niles elects to stay on at the Bureau in what seems to be a very high-ranking position, despite his awareness of its dubious doings. I think, given his personal connection to the tundra expedition, we're meant to think that he's doing it for subversive reasons, but we're later shown that he initiated and conducted ongoing experiments on Metahumans using Bureau resources for his own personal gain. Sure, he eventually brought four of them to safety--but only after directly and intentionally causing them irreparable physical, psychological and emotional damage thus rendering them dysfunctional as people. We learn from Laura in 4x06 that most of Niles's projects ended up "unceremoniously nipped in the bud" for being "dangerous or foolhardy" (by an institution which considers breeding potentially-apocalyptic carnivorous butts a reasonable pursuit), so we can probably safely assume that Niles has been responsible for even more dangerous and/or harmful efforts which are conveniently not spoken about.

We're shown some moments of guilt from Niles--but given that his experiments eventually produced the desired outcome, and that this outcome directly relates to the safety of his daughter--he's exhibited no active remorse in having conducted them. Certainly nothing like the relentless self-loathing and personal destruction that Laura carries in the form of her own guilt, along with her multiple active attempts to go back (whether physically in time or by operating in the present) to fix her past actions.

Laura was an employee under oath to the bureau to fulfil a very specific--albeit also morally questionable--duty, yet still regularly broke that oath in order to rescue people whenever she could. Being a meta herself, she was putting her own safety and job at risk by doing so in an act of selflessness antithetical to Niles's selfish drive to preserve his own life. Laura was able to relate to those who would become the Sisterhood and did everything in her power to give them as much freedom as she could, given the circumstances, even if it meant distancing herself from these people who she'd come to love when tensions were mounting after WWII. Until, of course, it all went horribly wrong. (I'm still of the belief that the raid was done under coercion or began as a well-intentioned plan that went sideways for reasons beyond her control but that's an essay for a different time.) She absorbed the guilt and blame for this herself, both externally--allowing others the emotional satisfaction of directing their pain towards her in the form of anger--and internally--truly believing herself beyond forgiveness for her moral transgressions. Niles, on the other hand, lied to the Doom Patrol about his true actions and intentions in order to preserve their trust in him.

Further suspiciously, Niles's letter condemning Laura concludes, "For the good of our work [...] it is my strong recommendation that she be terminated immediately." We know objectively that the work the Bureau was doing was inhumane and that Laura has previously (secretly) opposed it. So what evidence could he possibly have had against her which would get her fired from the "good" work of an institution that actively exploits and kills people? Hm? Niles??

What we have so far is essentially a he-said-she-said between Laura and Niles about what really happened at the Bureau. It's Niles's memorandum and "evidence" which eventually got her fired, and for some reason it's Niles's narrative which prevailed--probably for the very simple reason that he was the longer-standing member, grandfathered in from the Bureau of Oddities*, and seemed to be in a more senior position. He gets to be the well-meaning-but-sadly-mistaken fatherly figure while Laura is painted as the villain, dangerous, and expressly instructed to "stay away from [Niles's] people".

But why? What really happened at the Bureau between these two? Because what we've been told from Niles isn't matching up to what we've seen of Niles and what we've been seeing so far from Laura's POV.

I so hope we're going to learn more about this in Part 2 because my brain is running in circles about this.

*Laura mentions in 1949 that she's been working for 35 years, which would have her joining the Bureau around 1914/the start of the war. Niles seems to have established himself during the pre-war Oddities era.

[elvenbeard]

18 and 34 for Vince on the OC ask h

game? 👀

Thanks so much for asking!! :D

18. Their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

He has done all ofthese and is doing all of them still more or less on the regular with his line of work.

Lying comes easier to him than he'd like to admit and in a way it's become a means for him to survive in a world that he doesn't feel like he fits in well. He is very confident in himself, his abilities, who he is as a person. But he doesn't trust easily, he doesn't like a lot of the people he's dependent on or has to deal with on a daily basis, and he's well aware he's not nearly as intimidating as he'd like to be. So he puts on a charming yet cunning mask and lies through his teeth if need be, to gain the trust of the people he needs to further his own goals, and to hide his own fears and weaknesses to avoid getting hurt or used himself. That leads to all kinds of fun guilty feelings where, if he's had to keep this facade up for a while, he wonders if he can really trust anyone at all anymore, if everyone all the time is lying and faking it as much as him, and if anyone or anything is truly still genuine, including himself. Does he really like being friends with Judy, River, Panam, Kerry, or is he just "automatically" befriending them for his personal gain? So yeah... he does not mind lying as such if it gets him where he needs to be, but it's a two-sided sword where he wishes it wasn't really necessary that he lied so much all the time (and thankfully, with the aforementioned and a few other close friends, his urge to lie subsides the better he gets to know them).

Stealing on the other hand he has a lot less complex feelings about. It's part of his job, he's good at it, no one else would bat an eye whether or not he'd be upset about getting stolen from, why should he? He never had to steal to survive, as in, steal food from a store. I think stealing data or information etc. he'd regard as no big deal and... to him it's the victims' own fault for not investing in better security measures. Cracking a code or breaching a system's security measures gives him a weird sense of accomplishment and he's good at this kind of stuff. Stealing physical things, well... Ask Jackie how that went that one time (although I'm gonna die on the hill that the Konpeki Heist failure was mostly Dex' fault, not V's, Jackie's, or T-Bug's XD)

Killing is something Vince actually does not enjoy, has never, will never. He tries to avoid physical altercations as best as he can, take out enemies in sneaky ways rather than with lethal force. He had to kill for Arasaka, traitors, spies, although as he rose in ranks he more and more would've delegated these tasks to subordinates (but then again, as Jenkins climbed the career ladder similarly, he delegated his own hitjobs to V instead...). If he can avoid it, he will avoid killing, because something about it just does not sit right with him, and I think if he's not in an extremely tight spot for money he'd also usually decline the Fixer's hitjobs or only take on those where there's a potential other solution to the clients' problems than death.

34. How would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

Tying this in a bit with my previous points on Vince's lying habits... this highly depends on who he's describing himself to. Potential new client? "I'm the best Night City has to offer, a professional with references, here's my list of amazing skills. Oh, all these problems you mention? They're no problems at all. Trust me. I will come up with a waterproof plan, I have the means, the connections, the equipment. You won't regrets this." (while internally he is cursing about how stupid of an idea this person's gig is, he knows he'll have to do this alone because no one else would be dumb enough, but on the other hand, the client could have [important piece of information or other thing] he despereately needs so, fuck it... he'll figure something out, he's good at that at least).

I think in general to people he doesn't know or wants something off of he would be over-confident and a little boastful, describe himself as competent etc etc even if not all of it is the case. What matter is that he gets what he wants in the end in these scenarios - money, a boost of reputation and streetcred, information, sex, drugs, whatever.

If he had to describe himself to someone he cares about or trusts... He'd focus more on what interest him, what he likes and dislikes, all still somewhat superficial though. He's confident and unashamed of his past and wishes, but yeah... Things like "I'm really scared of dying alone and being forgotten" wouldn't make it into a description of himself, he'd just omit all his insecurities and polish what he considers strengths. He'd probably describe himself as someone you can trust (but only if he trusts you or needs you, but he'd omit that), pretty down to earth (he's not, and Judy would call him out on it at every opportunity), level-headed (when in fact he can just hide and control his panic in tense moments very well) and yeah... something like that xD He'd be fine with being described as an opportunist, an optimistic realist, cause those two apply. He's sarcastic and creative, and not someone who can easily sit still, always needs something to do, a bit of a workaholic for sure.

[elstreem]

Here's angel Bedi for my demon Ritsuka x angel Bedi AU! (Internally calling it Circles of Sky because I can't help giving titles even "for funsies" AUs).

So, for Bedivere - as with his other lives, he's a trusted blade who serves others. In this case, he's a Guard in the Camelot Garden (Garden being a city for mostly angels). Guards perform many duties, but Bedivere especially trained for Phantasmal Suppression - as the name states, he takes down Phantasmals, rogue beasts that live in the wilds. Phantasmals are attracted to magical energy and so drift close to cities of demons and angels alike, so it's an important job to take them down before they can hurt people or damage living quarters. It's a dangerous post, and so only the most skilled of trained Guards take this duty.

Despite having lost an arm while in training, Bedivere did not let this hold him back, and took up learning the traditional angel arts of forming weapons, but reworking it so he can form an artificial arm with his own magic energy. Bedivere keeps his arm formed even during ordinary guard duties such as patrols and aiding civilians, but on the rare days he is totally off work, he does relax a bit and doesn't form a prosthetic unless needed.

Angels are born with wings, and said wings are capable of flight, so on average angels possess wings bigger than most demons. However, as angels grow and accumulate power, they form their own halos - and by accumulating strong magical energy, they gain additional wings of light. More on this in another AU lore drop post, but that's the gist of it.

So, Bedivere has two natural wings and his natural magical energy has given him four more wings of light, making him a six-winged Seraph rank.

Bedivere's wings are considered quite beautiful in angel society - which he is a tad uncomfortable with, since people have the tendency to touch his wings without asking him. It got to the point that he prefers to preen his wings by himself when it's normally something angels do for each other, just to feel more in control of the situation.

Despite this, however...he doesn't seem to mind letting Ritsuka snuggle under his wings. And, in fact, often offers a wing to wrap around her on cold days. But is such a highly respected Seraph of the Guard really spending time with a little imp?

(Yes they are, and they become more than friends as time goes.)

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Four

Chapter Four: A Trip To Jakku

Series Masterlist

Plot: One week after Poe and Reader’s evening together, they’re called into a meeting regarding the map to Luke Skywalker.

Warnings: Angst, angst galore and a tiny bit of language.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: PHEW. We’ve arrived at TFA and I’m so excited. Do any other writers ever spend so much time writing something that you’re simultaneously proud of and also hate? Cause that’s how I feel about this lol. We also get to spend some time with BB-8 and I decided to write dialogue for him because I’ve always wondered what droids are saying. I apologize for any typos, my hands are doing better at typing but they’re not perfect yet. ENJOY!!

——————

One week later

——————

Clearly the galaxy had taken pity on me and decided to throw me a bone. I had been buried in work for the past week leaving me very little time to dwell on my problems. Reports came flying in from various missions and I was in several meetings each day. Me, my mother and a few higher-ups even had to take a two day trip to Mon Calamari for a meeting with their monarchy. All in all, I was pleased to be back in the thick of my job.

Poe and I were as normal as we could be after the night we’d spent together. We hadn’t seen much of each other due to work, but when we were together there was very noticeable tension between us. I caught myself stealing glances at him when he was in the room, ducking my head quickly if he turned in my direction. He seemed to look at me with a newfound intensity in his dark brown eyes that would send a shiver down my spine. Whatever had changed that night seemed to be affecting both of us.

After a late meeting one day with Lieutenant Connix, I was able to escape the command center for a break. As I walked through the halls, I tugged at the collar of my dark green commander’s uniform. It was the most uncomfortable outfit anyone in the galaxy could have the misfortune of wearing. I’d never pulled the ‘General’s Daughter’ card to gain special privilege, but I’d tried to convince my mom several times to let me wear something different. I made a mental note to try asking her one more time...

Too busy scratching my neck, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and bumped into something. I looked down to see a familiar orange and white droid looking up at me,

“Bee, I’m so sorry! You okay?” I asked, kneeling to the ground.

I’m okay, don’t worry.

“Well, I’m still sorry. Where’re you headed?”

I was sent to come get you. The General needs to see you right away.

I furrowed my brows, “Okay, she didn’t say anything when I saw her this morning.”

She said it’s a new development.

“Oh, lead the way then!”

I rose from the ground and walked side by side with the droid, wondering why he was coming to get me when he was Poe’s droid. If my mother needed to see me, she usually sent 3PO.

We arrived quickly at one of the smaller meeting rooms and I knocked on the door softly.

“Come in.” I heard my mother’s voice call.

BB-8 and I both entered, me shutting the door behind us. I turned to see my mother sitting at the small table with Poe sitting across from her.

“Sit down, Commander,” my mother instructed, noticing the confused expression on my face.

I awkwardly sat down next to Poe, knowing it had been a few days since we’d talked. He gave me a smile and a wink, nonetheless and I relaxed into my seat.

“Commander Solo, Commander Dameron,” my mother began in her most serious tone of voice, “The information that I am about to tell you is beyond confidential. You are not to speak a word of this meeting to anyone else. The only people that are to know about what is said in this room are the three of us and BB-8.”

“Understood, General.” Poe and I replied in unison, BB-8 also letting out a beep of agreement.

She sighed, “We have made contact with Lor San Tekka and he has confirmed that he is in possession of the map we’ve been looking for.”

My jaw dropped slightly, this was it. It was happening. I looked over to Poe who gave me a toothy grin before looking back to my mother.

“That being said, we have very little time to move before the First Order inevitably learns of this also. I’m dispatching you both to Jakku to retrieve the map.”

Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was being sent. I was worried that my mother would see my going on this mission as an issue and-

“However, Commander Solo, your presence on this paticular mission is conditional.”

Spoke too soon.

“How so?”

Leia sighed and folded her hands together on the table, “Due to your personal attachment to the item in question, it is a possibility that your judgement could become clouded. It goes without saying that there is no room for mistake with this. Therefore,” she glanced over at Poe briefly, “even though you are both equally ranked, Commander Dameron will be leading this mission.”

I tilted my head slightly, opening my mouth to say something but never finding the words needed to express what I felt. Instead the only thing I could get out was,

”What?”

Leia looked down for a second before facing me, “In times like these, we cannot afford to take any risks and placing someone with a personal stake in a mission in charge is a risk. This is not an insult to you, Commander, you are a valuable asset to this mission.”

I could practically feel Poe tense up next to me, clearly he knew that I wasn’t going to take the news well. And how was I supposed to take it? What we were going to retrieve had to do with my family and I wasn’t even put in charge of it?

I folded my hands, matching my mother’s diplomatic position involuntarily, and forced a fake smile on my face,

“Well, to be frank, General, I don’t agree with the choice. I believe I’m perfecty capable of handling myself and keeping my emotions in check,” my voice was dripping with bitterness, “I would never let a personal interest get in the way of the Resistance’s goal. However, if you believe that Commander Dameron is more suited in leading the mission, then that is your decision. I will, of course, play any part I can in this operation.”

Poe had a hand to his temple by the end of my speech, while my mother simply kept her eyes locked with mine in a silent standoff.

“Is that all, Commander?” She finally asked, her tone firm, letting me know that the discussion was over.

I conceded, sitting back in my chair with my hands in my lap, “Yes, General.”

“Alright, the two of you leave in an hour. Because of the severity of this mission, there will not be any communications allowed so don’t bother packing them. Commander Solo, there will be a ship waiting for you to take. I will personally see the both of you off in the hanger.”

“Yes, General.” Poe answered, for the both of us as I stayed silent.

“Meeting adjourned,” Leia stated, the three of us standing and BB-8 rolling closer to join us. I left the room first, making a beeline for my quarters with no interest of speaking to anyone.

Once I got into my room, I let my tears flow freely as I leaned against the door. I was frustrated with my mother for not trusting me enough to be in charge of the mission. But more importantly, I was mad at myself because she was 100% right in making the call. My emotions couldn’t be kept in check when it came to my family and there was a considerable chance they would cloud my judgement. I would make some rash, impulsive decision and jeopardize the whole thing.

After a few minutes of crying into my hands, I wiped them on my uniform and dried my eyes. I had less than an hour to get into mission mode, to forget everything I was feeling and focus on what was at stake. I took a deep breath, knowing exactly what I needed to do to ensure I was present.

I walked to the center of the room, dropped to the floor and crossed my legs. My hands found my knees and gripped them gently, I closed my eyes and leaned into the familiar feeling. I focused on the Force, picturing it moving all around me and anchoring me to the ground. I pictured it flowing through me, into the deepest darkest parts of me that no one knew about. I pictured my anger, my sadness, my frustration, and allowed it to wrap around them like a tight embrace to keep someome from moving.

Just like that, I felt at peace.

Opening my eyes and taking a breath, I slowly rose from the ground and walked to my dresser. I grabbed a pair of tan pants, a white tee shirt, my dark brown leather jacket and a matching colored pair of combat boots. I changed quickly, knowing that my meditation had taken longer than I’d thought. I clipped a holster belt to my waist and placed my blaster inside the main holster.

Knowing that I’d regret not taking it, I reached over to my desk drawer and grasped my lightsaber. I hadn’t picked it up in a week since my last training session, too afraid of having another flashback. I had zero intention of using it today, and I probably wouldn’t need it, but I wanted extra protection should the worst happen. I’d long ago installed a holster clip inside each of my jackets to hold the lightsaber and I never went on a mission without it. I begrudgingly secured it and as soon as I felt it familiarly hit my side, I felt eased.

“Stupid....thing,” I grumbled, staring down at the inanimate object.

A knock at the door interrupted me from insulting any more of my weapons. It was too forceful to be my mother and I doubted she wanted to speak to me. I pressed the button to open the door and found Poe on the other side.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I gestured for him to come in and he entered. I closed the door and turned to Poe, who was standing in thee middle of the room with his hands on his hips. He wore a similar outfit to mine, though his shirt had a deeper neck line that showed off a peak of his toned chest. He’d tried to tame his curls best he could, but one or two still fell loose.

It was wildly unfair that someone could look so distractingly perfect all the time.

“Look,” he began, “I know it doesn’t help, but I didn’t know anything about any of this before the meeting.”

I shrugged, “It helps and it doesn’t help. But I am sorry that you had to see me act like such a child.”

“Y/n, I completely understand why you’d want to be in charge of this mission,” he said, his tone sincere, “But if we’re being honest you-“

”I could do something because it has to do with my family. Unfortunately, I agree.”

Poe’s lip curled up a little, “Well, I was gonna be a little nicer about it but yeah, that’s a possibility.”

I chuckled and took a few small steps towards him, crossing my arms, “No need to be nice, I was unreasonable. Sometimes I’m just so desperate to piece my family back together, I’d run headfirst into battle just for a shot at it.”

Poe simply listened, his brown eyes clouded with sadness, he knew all about the meaning of family. He’d lost his mother at such a young age, but she still meant he world to him.

“I’m not going to pretend like I’ve been in your shoes, Y/n, but I do know one thing. The passion and drive you have when it comes to your family,” he walked towards me and placed his hands on my arms, “They’re some of your best qualities, and they’re what make you such a good leader. Reel in your impulsiveness, but don’t be afraid to tap into that part of yourself.”

I smiled softly, placing my hands on top of his warm ones, before cocking my head to the side.

“I’m sorry, did I just hear you tell me to reel in my impulsiveness?

Poe rolled his eyes and took his hands off my arms, “Here we go...”

“The Poe Dameron,” I said between laughs, “Instructing someone not to be impulsive?”

“And I stand by what I said,” he replied, his hands going to his hips.

“And I think you’re full of shit.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is that any way to speak to your Commander?”

Smirking, and taking a step closer towards him, I decided to be exactly what he’d just told me not to be,

“I stand by what I said.” I said softly, watching his eyes darken as I stared him down.

Poe’s jaw clenched, and I could sense his entire body had just gone tense. I realized just how close I’d moved towards him, our bodies were practically touching. The tension I’d felt between us the past week was back, but this time it was electric. Rather than duck my head, like I usually would, I firmly held his gaze with no intention of breaking first.

“Something wrong, Commander?” I asked, innocent as could be. I’d never seen Poe as speechless as he was at the moment, and something inside me was happy that I had so much of an effect on him.

His pupils blown and his pink lips parted slightly, he gave a coy smile,

“None whatsoever, sweetheart.”

Was it normal in a friendship to want to press your friend up against a wall and kiss them senseless?

Because if not, I was completely screwed.

The only thing that prevented that from happening was the sudden banging at my door. Both Poe and I jumped slightly, the heated moment broken and the noise bringing us back to reality. Turning and pressing the button, the door opened to reaveal BB-8 waiting patiently.

“What’s up, buddy?” Poe asked from behind me,

The General’s in the hanger, it’s time to go.

“Right,” I nodded, “We’re right behind you.”

The droid beeped once in acknowledgement and I turned to Poe, who had come to stand next to me. He looked like he was shaking himself from the same stupor I was, coming back to focus on the issues at hand.

He exhaled loudly and clapped his hand on my shoulder,

“Jakku?”

I sighed, shifting my thoughts from these new feelings towards Poe and reminding myself we were heading back into war,

“Jakku.”

————————

Leia was waiting for us in the hanger, in between Poe’s X-Wing and a beat up A-Wing for me. BB-8 had sped ahead of us in the halls and was already loading himself into his spot in the X-Wing.

“General,” Poe greeted as we approached her, “Commander Solo and I are all set.”

“Good,” she replied, the mechanics are finishing flight checks on your ships.”

“All set, General,” the mechanics responded as if on cue.

I met my mother’s gaze, knowing I had to talk to her before we left. Poe sensed the mood and mumbled something about checking on BB-8. Standing in front of her with my head hung, I felt like a child remorseful for something they’d done.

“I may have an apology to make.”

”That’s entirely up to you. Just remember I have the power to demote you if you don’t,” she replied with a playful smile.

I laughed under my breath and took her hands in mine, “I’m sorry for how I acted, I still have a lot to learn.”

She placed both her hands on my cheeks and pulled me down to press our foreheads together. I clung to her arms and tried to soak in the moment, knowing there was a chance I wouldn’t see her again. It was a risk with every mission, but this one was different. This was more dangerous than anything the Resistance had ever pulled off before. And the whole thing rested on Poe and I.

My mother kissed my forehead before capturing me in a hug, I tried not to let any tears fall but failed. As she pulled away, I dried my eyes quickly and squeezed her hand, 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Smiling warmly, I broke contact with her and walked over to the ship I’d be using. I usually flew an A-Wing when on missions so I was familiar with the controls. I climbed into the cockpit and got adjusted in my seat before placing the pilot’s helmet on my head and looking over to Poe,

“You good, Dameron?”

“All good, Solo,” he confirmed, looking at me through his own helmet and giving me a thumbs up.

“Commanders,” my mother said before we powered up the ships, “May the Force be with you both.”

I smiled and saluted her before pressing the button and the ship coming alive. I flipped on the comms so me and Poe could communicate till we arrived at Jakku.

“Poe, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, sweetheart. Who’s leaving the hanger first?”

“You’re in charge, Commander. Make the call.”

“I’m making the call that I like it when you call me Commander.”

I rolled my eyes, “Poe, save the galaxy now, flirt later.”

He groaned jokingly, “Fine, I’m leaving first.”

“Right behind you,” I confirmed, Poe had programmed the coordinates into my ship while I’d said goodbye to my mother. I took the controls in my hands and lifted off the ground, seeing that Poe was already out of the hanger waiting for me above base. I left the building and flew up to meet him,

“Ready for lightspeed?” He asked over the comms.

“Ready when you are,” I answered.

We flew a little further from base and then just like that, we were off.

—————-

The flight wasn’t too long or harsh, and any trip we didn’t run into First Order patrol ships was a good one.

Poe and I didn’t end up speaking for the duration in case the First Order were scanning comms. If ever I needed to hear his voice, it was then. As we travelled, I’d begun to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I sensed that something terrible was coming our way, but I couldn’t determine what. I’d often had premonitions in the past few years, but they’d increased significantly recently and it was starting to worry me. It was like my powers were beginning to grow stronger.

“Alright, coming into the atmosphere.” Poe’s voice came on the comms, taking me away from my thoughts.

“Copy that,” I answered.

It was almost dawn on Jakku, but it was still dark. Sneaking in and out in the dark made the mission feel even more dangerous, my nerves only rose.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I mumbled to myself.

We were nearing the village, preparing to land outside of it. Poe and I flew side by side, zeroing in on a good spot and slowing down as we descended. There was something about the way Poe flew that even under the most dangerous of circumstances, he was completely at ease when flying. It was almost reassuring, almost.

We landed easily a few hundred yards from the village and I powered the A-Wing down. I removed my helmet and smoothed down my hair, blowing out a deep breath as my eyes scanned the quiet village. Whatever we were about to walk into, I hoped no harm came to the villagers. They didn’t ask for us coming into their homes and bringing the war with us.

I got out of the ship and met the sandy ground, turning to see Poe and BB-8 doing the same. BB-8 beeped something about liking the sand and for a few seconds, I simply enjoyed the sight of him rolling back and forth.

“Any idea what this guy looks like?” Poe asked, while closing the cockpit to the ship.

“Yeah, I met him once, it’s been a while though.” I replied, trying to steady my voice.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer to me, “You good?”

I sighed, turned to Poe and said “I will be, as soon as we get the map and get the hell home.”

Poe smiled and grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently before nodding his head towards our destination,

“Then let’s go. If we make it back in time, I’ll take you for another flight.”

I squeezed back before letting go hesitantly, “Deal.”

We headed into the village with BB-8 close behind us. There were a few villagers up this early, already starting their day. We walked up to one of them who was already walking towards us,

“May I help you?”

”Yes,” I began, “We’re looking for Lor San Tekka.”

The man nodded and gestured for us to follow him, he began leading us towards one of the many tents.

“BB-8, stay outside and keep watch.” Poe ordered as his droid beeped his confirmation. The villager pushed back the flap of the tent and Poe and I entered to be greeted by a white haired man,

“Commander, welcome.”

Poe shook his hand, “Sir, it’s an honor.”

Lor San Tekka turned to me and smiled, “Commander Solo, it is wonderful to see you again.”

He wrapped me in a warm hug, “It’s been too long, I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“Come,” he invited us, “Sit.”

Poe and I both took seats next to a firepit that was burning as Lor sat opposite us,

“We must be quick, time is a luxury that cannot be afforded dring war.”

He reached into his robes, pulled out a small leather sack and handed it to Poe. I breathed a visible sigh of relief, we’d actually gotten it. I could practically hear my mother’s sigh of relief as Poe and I handed the drive to her.

“This will begin to make things right,” Lor said, covering Poe’s hand with his other, “I've traveled too far, and seen too much, to ignore the despair in the galaxy. Without the Jedi, there can be no balance in the Force.”

I nodded solemnly, though the word ‘Jedi’ always made me tense up. As far as Force users went there were the Sith, there were the Jedi and then there was me. I didn’t fit either of those titles.

“Well, because of you now we have a chance. The General's been after this for a long time.” Poe replied, holding the sack up with a confident smile.

“‘The General.’” Lor repeated with a knowing grin, “To me, she's royalty.”

“That she is, sir. On behalf of her and the entire Resistance, thank you for helping us.” I stated.

Before any of us could open our mouths, BB-8 came bursting into the tent beeping frantically,

First Order, they’re coming!

I turned to Poe, the same worried expression on my face was mirrored on his. He looked to Lor San Tekka,

“We’ve got company.”

The three of us raced outside, Poe raising a pair of quadnoculars he had around his neck to the sky. He didn’t need them, I could see the lights of enemy ships approaching us.

“You have to hide.” Poe said to Lor, we turned to him in unison and I reached out to touch his arm,

“If the First Order finds out that it was you who gave us the map, unimaginable horrors await you.”

“Commander, I knew the risks when I got in contact with the General. You have to leave. Go!”

Poe looked to me, conflicted about leaving him there to probably die, but knowing what would happen if we didn’t get the drive back.

I nodded to Poe before turning to Lor, “Thank you.”

He pushed my hand off his arm and me, Poe and BB-8 ran like hell towards our ships. They were parked behind a few large rocks so we had a bit of covering, though not much. The transports were already landing in the village and I could hear blaster fire ringing through the air. The distant sounds of Stormtroopers calling orders out caused us to run faster.

“Come on, BB-8! Hurry!” Poe yelled as we made it to our ships.

“We gotta haul ass,” I exclaimed as I opened the cockpit and jumped in. I powered it up and looked over to Poe and BB -8 who were doing the same. My stomach was churning at the thought of not making it out alive with the drive in hand. That was not an option.

Suddenly, I felt a blast hit my ship and throw me forward a little. 

“Shit!”

I jumped out of the cockpit and kept low, running to the back of the ship and examining the damage.

It was completely fried.

“You too?” Poe yelled over, in the same position I was in. BB-8 had already gotten out of his spot in the X-Wing and was by Poe. A shot was fired in between us and two Stomtroopers came charging toward us. Poe and I raised our blasters and took them on with one fatal shot each.

“What do we do?” I asked, running different scenarios through my head as I could tell Poe was as well. “Poe, we have to get out of here!”

”No,” he replied, taking my hand and pressing the drive into it, “You have to.”

My eyes widened as I processed what he meant, “What?!”

”Take BB-8 and get out of here, someone needs to get that map back to base. I’m gonna stay and take out as many as I can.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you here. You’re coming with us!”

“Y/n, I can’t leave the village helpless like this,” Poe said, gesturing to the village that had now caught on fire. The villagers screams could be heard for miles, I had the same urge to stay and defend them.

“Then send BB-8, I’m staying with you!’ I pushed, panic rising in my body at the thought of leaving Poe behind.

“NO! I won’t let anything happen to you, and that means you getting as far away from here as possible!” Poe yelled, desperation flooding his voice.

Tears flooded my eyes, I knew I wouldn’t be able to argue with him. He wouldn’t let me, just like he wouldn’t let any harm come to me. I reached up to touch his cheek, he leaned into my touch, shutting his eyes at the contact. His lips brushed my palm, sending a chill down my spine. He pulled me in by the back of my neck to press his forehead against mine. We stood there only for a brief second, but I wished with everything in me we could have stayed like that forever. He pulled back and wiped a stray tear from my face,

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

I nodded with a small sob as he bent down to talk to BB-8,

“You keep her safe, you hear me? You keep her and the drive safe.”

BB-8 beeped an ‘I will’ and rolled himself to my side, looking up at me.

Poe turned to me and his mouth opened to say something, when another ship began to land near the other transports.

My blood went cold. My heart began to race. It was like the entire world froze.

My brother was here.

Poe knew only one person in the galaxy could make me freeze like that,

“Y/n, get out of here now!”

”No, Poe, if he’s here I can’t leave you! Don’t make me leave you!” I shouted, grabbing onto his arms and trying to pull him the direction BB-8 and I would head.

“Y/n,” he took hold of my arms, “Get out of here right now, that’s an order!”

I sobbed and knew he wasn’t going to back down now. I had no choice but to leave him behind. BB-8 beeped at me and I looked down at him, knowing that we needed to go now or else we didn’t stand a chance.

Meeting Poe’s chocolate brown eyes, filled with tears of his own, I hesitantly let go of him and took off running with BB-8. I couldn’t look back at him or else I knew I’d do the exact thing my mother had been afraid I’d do. All I could do was weep as we ran through the sand, clinging to the sack containing the only shred of hope I had in the moment.

I didn’t know how long we’d been running, or rolling, but it seemed like nobody was trailing us. At some point I stopped and took a minute to catch my breath. Sitting down in the sand, I began crying again. Not only had I left Poe on his own when I should have just told him to screw himself and stayed, but my brother had arrived. What would happen if Poe was caught? What if he was captured? I knew what the First Order could do, but worse, I knew what my brother was capable of.

BB-8 rolled next to me and hesitantly bumped against my leg,

Do you think Poe will be okay?

I put a hand on the droid’s body and drew him to my side,

”Yeah, he will. Somehow.”

After a moment of wallowing in my fears, I dried my eyes and stood up. Until Poe rejoined us, it was up to the two of us to get the map back to base safely, and I wasn’t going to let the Resistance down. I wasn’t going to let Poe down either.

“C’mon, Bee. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

—————

A/N: Don’t hate me for the angst 🙈 Unfortunately we won’t be seeing Poe for a while, but he’ll still be present between BB-8 and the Reader’s conversations.

As far as updates go, I’ll still try for one a week but a family member of mine has just been diagnosed with cancer. I’m having a hard time with it so I may a couple days late with updates. As always, let me know if you want to be tagged!

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes

[wendibird]

SPN 15X17 Observations

Well, watching this week went pretty smoothly (and I was actually able to get my little bluetooth keyboard thing to talk to my tablet so I was able to watch on my big TV screen and type up notes fairly easily. :) 

And just to clarify, sometimes my notes as I took them were VERY brief, and in some cases I’ve gone back and added in a few details or explanations to make clear what I meant by what at the time. 

I’ve also come to the conclusion that I don’t always remember to take notes, especially if Important Things are happening. (Do people even like the notes section? Or would you just prefer reading my odd takes on everything after the fact?) 

Anyway, here’s what I have for 15X17 “Unity”. Well, I do have more thoughts drifting around, but I’m always concerned that I’m going on too long as it is. *LOL*  (Under the cut for length and spoiler aversion)

Okay, going in I’ve heard rumors that this is a “Sam Heavy” episode, so we’ll see. *fingers crossed* 

- wow, is Chuck starting in on this world already?

- Silent treatment.

- I wonder if she’s guessed.

- fuck you Dean!

(but I’m not surprised. it just confirms what I’d already suspected about how Dean really feels about Jack.)

Commercial Thoughts:

Yeah, so, I’m firmly in Sam and Cas’ camp here. Jack may not be family to Dean, but he is to them. He’s their Son. 

I also think that though he hasn’t talked about it, Sam regrets his part in the Drama Coffin plan involving Jack last season. Think it’s one of those cases where he realized too late he was on the wrong side, and he doesn’t want to be there again.

As for Dean… I get that he wants to see the people he cares most about make it out of this. (Sam and Cas.) And I get he’s doing the tunnel vision thing. I think he knows that Sam’s right but he won’t let himself admit it.

- Wow….. The fanangels are kinda creepy.

- They’ve lost all their nuance with Chuck. Or my theory is right and Chuck has actually shifted darkside.

- Oh wow…. Amara is really going to bat here.

Commercial Thoughts:

Still not sure how much she’s (Amara) really guessed. She’s acting as though the whole “trapping him” idea is still a go, but what she’d said to Dean, as pointedly as she did, it seemed like maybe she suspected what was really going on and was still trying to give him the option to go a different way.

And even if this is Chuck having shifted dark, it could still be written with more nuance than this crappy villain schtick.

I mean, even in S11 when he’s all but given up on humanity and existence and was going to let Amara win, it was written with there being a depth to him about it.

- Don’t know if Dean’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care as deeply to make this easier or what.

- HOw is ADAM still alive?! And she’s an angel?

- Interesting behavior for an angel. *LOL*

- “Then he moved on to our sons.” Hints of Cain and Abel?

- Okay, so the angel kept him alive. (Sure, I can buy that.) 

- Pretty Crystals!

- He’s (Dean) heard those lines before. And Dean’s feeling uneasy about it.

- Amethyst! (Sorry, always had a thing for Amethyst and it’s my birthstone)

- (oh, okay, all of them)

- Ewww….. Open heart surgery

- Rib!

- Dean doesn’t like being rail-roaded.

- Talk time.

- I don’t like this…… (Jack using the rib and starting the suicide-bomb process.) 

Commercial Thoughts:

Okay, so, what Dean said, I’m glad he said it. And I have been getting hints of that feeling from him the whole season, about feeling disconnected because of what they found out about Chuck and their lives. I just… I still think he’s willfully blinding himself to what’s really going on. That even this version of “Free Will” is a script that he’s following. (Well, I think he’s starting to have misgivings about that.)

- Uh-oh! Ideas! 

- I love two researching nerds!

- Were we supposed to understand the Latin? *LOL* I caught “Mortem” in there a few times.

- Yey door!

- “your internal compass is functioning perfectly”

- I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

- Who dat?

- Dead someone or other

- W section.

- Reapers maybe?

- Who’s thinning the ranks?

- Empty!Meg!

- Sam is good! (At bluffing the hell out of an ancient cosmic being.) 

- IT’S A LITTLE LATE TO STOP IT!!!!

Commercial Thoughts:

*FREAKING OUT!!!*

Jack already started it! OG!Adam said that once started the reaction couldn’t be stopped.

Okay, deeper thoughts. Everyone’s playing chess. Still. The game is just bigger.

OG!Adam wants God dead because of stuff that happened. And Billy is following his plan? (Did I get that right?) The plan will make Billy the next God. (Not surprised there honestly.) Her world will be a lot more “orderly” no doubt.

The Empty just wants to sleep. (Honestly, can relate.) 

But everyone’s just using them all as gamepieces again. Dean’s getting that feel from things OG!Adam and Whatserfaceangel said. Sam knows now too. They’re still stuck in someone else’s story. They’re still not gaining true “Free Will”. I’m hoping that the route they take will actually get them off this train track.

- DUDE - WHAT (was in reference to Dean pulling a gun on Sam)

- Go Sam! He’s not letting this one go. (Referring to my feelings on Sam feeling bad about Jack and the Drama Coffin thing from way before, and him NOT settling for Dean’s plan this time, him sticking to his guns and saying what he feels and taking action.) 

- Chuck played her (Amara) too.

- Not again! (Oh Jack, will this forever be your fate?)

- FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

Holy shit! That episode!

Okay, it actually did a good job of wrapping up a lot of ideas. Like, big-picture ideas that have been themes throughout the run of the show. 

Also, apparently this was the only world where Cas and the Winchesters broke the mold? Didn’t play by their roles?

Also, minor point but it made me happy: Chuck pointed out how it’s Sam who needed to find things out. Sam who kept digging. I made mention of it last episode how Billy kept going to Dean, because he was easier for her to manipulate. But Sam asks more questions. I think part of it is what Cas said about his internal compass. I think another part is his experiences. He’s been the brunt of the cosmic plot-lines a LOT of the time. So he does keep asking questions because of all the times he hadn’t and things went badly. (Like end of S4 with killing Lilith.) 

And let me be clear, it’s not that I think Dean is dumb. He isn’t. And he and Sam both make decisions a lot based on their feelings. (Sometimes it’s all you have to go on.) But he’s shown a tendency in the past several years especially to be more likely to make them based on anger. And he doesn’t get called on it often. And I don’t know if this is TOO meta (is that even a thing with this show anymore? *LMAO*) but I feel like part of that is written into the script. Of their world. Even when Dean’s wrong he’s often proven “right” by the narrative. He very rarely is made to face up to his mistakes. (Not saying he never is. But it definitely doesn’t seem to happen as often.) And I’m wondering, is that because up till now, he was Chuck’s favorite? We saw that Chuck can manipulate a LOT of things. And events, and even some people. 

How often have we noticed and commented on how the Narrative backs Dean up so much of the time, even when he might be in the wrong? Or even just questionable? Or morally grey? How much of that is possibly now supposed to be due to Chuck’s meddling? Because I’ve also seen it mentioned (and have also noticed) that although Sam winds up the “wrong one” a lot via the narrative, he’s actually HAD to learn and grow because of that. But because Dean is rarely shown as wrong, he hasn’t had to, and his character has stagnated a lot in the last several seasons. Of course, in reality, that’s due to the writing/show-running/powers-that-be making those decisions, but in-show could it possibly be something to do with Chuck? Maybe at first because he liked Dean more? But as time grew on, and he kept trying to set up his Cain and Abel plot with them, maybe it was to reinforce Dean’s self-image that he’s Right? 

And also by contrast, we had the end of last season where so many of Sam’s decisions which had been made with best intentions and best information/resources at the time wound up blowing-up in his face. As if to say "Ha-HAH! That's what you get for thinking you could lead people! That's what you get for thinking you could save Jack! That's what you get for thinking someone like Nick could be redeemed! That's what you get for talking your brother out of the Drama-Coffin plan!" It felt like it was specifically intended to make him severely doubt his own judgement. And it worked. After all that shit went down, one thing after another, culminating with their mother's death, he didn't trust himself. He didn't believe in himself. So he put all his trust in Dean. And Dean was full of RAGE. (I don't blame him. His Mom has been a keystone of his life, even when she wasn't there.) But Sam didn't give the objections he normally would have to Dean's plan to box-up Jack. Even though it was CLEAR how much he didn't like it. How wrong it felt to him.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is, I think Chuck has been nudging and manipulating a LOT of things in order to get the Winchesters to behave how he wants them to. 

IDK. My head is hurting from some of these meta thoughts. *LOL*

SO! Back to what happened in the actual episode.

I thought the format was interesting, focusing in on the different POV characters for their spans of the story until it all came together. (Wondering if this is going to continue into the next episode…) 

I liked that we got a lot of reveals about what is (possibly) really going on, in regards to the grand schemas. Because there are several at play here. But now we're at least getting glimpses of them. 

Even though we didn't see Billy, I thought the reveal about her plans were interesting, but definitely fit with her character as established so far. I know a lot of people are saying she's gotten drunk with her power or she's "turning evil" but I don't think that's the case. It's true that she hasn't told them everything about her plans, but that's because she's also using them as pieces in her game. But her goal is the same as it's always been since we first met her. She has ALWAYS been about the Natural Order. She never liked how the Winchesters (or anyone else) flaunted death again and again. So once she's in charge? Everyone and everything goes where they belong. The demons stay in hell, the angels stay in heaven, souls go where they're meant to, people from other universes go back (even if there's no universe to go back TO. Tough shit, they'd be dead anyway according to her) and those who have already died and been resurrected? They go back to wherever they should be. (At least, I THINK that was the implication made, with Sam asking Dean if he'd be willing to trade HIM to take-out Chuck. Sam was definitely realizing a LOT when Empty!Meg told him what Billy's plan was.) 

This isn't her turning Evil like has been done with Chuck. It's more, her becoming a more extreme version of what she already was. When she got her promotion, she found out a LOT more things. Including this option of events for taking Chuck out and putting things back to how they belong. And it even started with Dean's aborted Drama Coffin plan. Which eventually fails, because Sam, but it then leads to Jack sacrificing his soul to take out AU Michael, which eventually leads to Mary's Death and Chuck's opportunity to manipulate things more and so on and so forth until we wind up here. 

(Also, just wanna say, absolutely LOVED Rachel as the Empty again!) 

And also, having just watched that scene again, can I just say again how awesome Sam is? He straight-up told the Empty that even if he WAS lying, their best bet is to let him go with the book. And it couldn't really argue with that because he was right! (Well, if it had killed him then and there, Dean probably wouldn't have known right away and probably would have been able to carry out the plan. So there is that. Buuuuut none of them knew that either at the time.) 

And in general, I love how Sam just would NOT give up. This is the Sam Winchester I've come to love. He could feel in his bones that this plan was wrong so he was doing everything he could to not only stop it, but to find some other way to get what they truly wanted. 

I also loved his and Cas' interactions. They were supportive of each other and both were trying to find a way to save their son. (Dean has officially forfeited his Dad-Card in my book. Hell, in his book too.) Also, I remember hearing someone from production, or who was maybe on set or something mentioning something about the Holy Grail in this episode? Well, in that scene where Sam and Cas are looking through those old crates and trunks and boxes, when Cas finds the key Sam is holding this really old looking chalice. Wonder if that's supposed to be what that is. *LOL* I mean, the Spear of Destiny (or at least, the head of the spear) was there in the Bunker, so why not I guess? *LOL*

We didn't get a lot of Sam and Jack interaction, but I liked what little we had. Sam made it clear to Jack that he wants to save him. (I'm really hoping we get SOMETHING more of them in the next episode or two but... yeah. Not a lot of time left.) 

I could go on for some length about my feelings on Dean and how he's been this season. But I don't want this to turn into a fully anti-Dean rant. I will say though that I'd definitely gotten the impression before this that Dean has different categories of people he cares about, and in his mind, he also has them ranked according to how expendable they are. And I'm not just talking about Jack here, though he is a major part of it. But at the end of the episode when he and Sam are having it out, Dean says he's basically willing to sacrifice EVERYONE to get what he wants. 

(I don't think he's actually willing to sacrifice Sam for it though. And yes, I know, he was waving a gun in Sam's face. But I don't believe for a moment he had any intention of killing his brother. Not when Sam asking point blanc if Dean is willing to trade him for killing Chuck, and that seems to be what causes Dean to start listening to what Sam's saying. Also, in the past, Dean hasn't been above threatening people to get what he wants. Like with Kaia. Also in S8's "Trail and Error" when he and Sam were talking about taking out the hellhound, Dean pretty much said if Sam even tries to get close to it, Dean would shoot him in the leg. Now, we never got to see if he actually would have or not, but regardless, it was a case of Dean being willing to hurt Sam a little in order to protect him from something he saw as a bigger threat. In that case it had been taking on the trials. In this case, it would have been to win their shot at freedom. At least in Dean's mind. Not saying I approve! Just, I think that's where his mindset was.) 

And this is a far cry from the Dean who, just a few years ago was willing to be a kamikaze bomb in order to save the world. And yes, Dean has mentioned "Saving the world" this season too. And I'm sure he means that too. But when he was at his most emotional, what he was talking about wasn't saving the world and everyone in it. It was freeing him and Sam from being Chuck's entertainment. And he's willing to sacrifice nearly anyone to accomplish that. At least, he was up til now. I hope that they're going to give him a change of heart before the end because I really REALLY would like the show to end with me not despising Dean and what he's become. Yes, I'm a Sam-girl, but I do care about Dean too. 

Also, I feel bad for Amara and what wound up happening with her. Like many other characters, she fell victim to Chuck's manipulations, and now I'm guessing he's even stronger than before. But also, Chuck wasn't the only one manipulating her. And maybe if they, (Dean especially, since she had a soft-spot for him) had actually been trying to find another way earlier, she wouldn't have fallen to despair when finding out the truth. 

Aaaaaanyway, I think I've rambled enough about this episode as it is. Thank you to whoever actually bothers to read all of this. *LOL*

[peachyteabuck]

enemy of my enemy is my lover

summary: you planned on just going to a meeting with an adversary, hoping to gain more territory in the process. you left with something much, much better. 

pairing: mobster!bucky barnes x mobster!reader

words: 3,226

trigger warnings: smut (oral - f recieving and vaginal sex), mob dynamics

notes/other: this was inspired by ask received by @bucky-plums-barnes a long, long time ago about a mobster!bucky headcanon that describes the plot to this fic. while i could not find the exact ask (trust me, i tried), i credit the anonymous genius & gen heavily for inspiring this. thank you both!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Each step you make is loud, sharp; the sound of heels clicking against the cold, cracked cement of New York City. It’s something, one of the things, that makes you powerful – sends this thick feeling of invulnerability through your veins, as if you’re some deity returning to her alter.

That feeling – one of untouchable power – has always been…sort of…hard for you to conjure. It’s not like you’re not not powerful in this world absent your fantasies. You run the second most powerful mob in the country! You’ve got a large pull in international trade! You’ve got major influence in congress and almost every state senate! You’ve got money, a smoking hot and super amazing boyfriend, and loyal coworkers. What else do you need?

Regardless of all that, roaming the streets at night never fails to send a special kind of shiver crawling across your skin. It’s a particular type of fear, one that makes you pull your steel grey coat closer to you as you roam the street, makes your hand cling tighter to the .45 in your deep, righthand pocket.

As you reach the alley where the deal you’re brokering is supposed to take place, your phone buzzes a few times in a row. You have an urge to check it, to make sure the man you love is okay, but letting your guard down now wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got to keep a keen mental sharpness about you to make sure no one kidnaps you (or worse) or fucks you over at your own deal, but still, the only person who would be texting you at this godforsaken hour is the man you left at home, and in this business you can never be too careful about the ones you care deeply about…

Your thoughts are interrupted (quite rudely, you might add), by the sound of a thick winter coat shuffling – as if someone were to be rolling their sleeves up. The noise of the fabric gets louder as the person – a man, you soon realize – steps closer. A man with sharp cheekbones and a dark beard and beautiful, pillowy lips.

His gaze, even under the dark baseball cap that lacks insignia, seems hauntingly familiar. You can’t place it, and it seems rude to ask if you’ve met before, given the circumstances. Still…something seems…recognizable about this mystery man.

You don’t realize it, though, until the man opens his mouth and asks about the new baby seal in the San Francisco zoo. It’s the right code, that’s not what throws you. Rather, it’s the gravely voice of the man you’ve been dating for years that stops you in your tracks.

“Bucky!?” you call out, completely confused and abandoning the correct coded response. “Why are you out here?”

Bucky, now meeting your eyes, seems just as bewildered as you are. “I, uh…I’m….what, what are you doing here?”

You have no idea how to respond, mind too baffled to form words. “Wh…what…”

You step closer, carefully – as if he was some rabid cat you found behind your apartment building. His beautiful baby blues are wide, eyes narrowed – you gasp when you get close enough to smell the cologne, his cologne, the exact scent you bought him for Christmas the year previous. “Are…are you…you’re…are you the White Wolf?”

Bucky visibly steps back at the mention of the street name – the street name of the guy who runs the mob that (similar to yours) is based in New York and works in black market goods. He tries to hide his shock, just in case what he thinks is happening definitely isn’t happening. In all honesty, Bucky can’t tell which one would be worse. “And, you’re uh. You’re…um…are you….are you She-Devil?”

If you were disoriented before, you have no word to describe how much your brain is short-circuiting at the thought that this man – the man you love, has secretly been running not only a mob, but a rival mob, this entire time.

“Do…wait,” you shake your head to try and collect your exceptionally scattered thoughts. “Are you the guy who wanted to negotiate territory with me?”

Bucky hesitates for a second, body tense and reluctant to say anything. You’re both still, not daring move a muscle and the both of you stare each other down. It feels like an eternity before he does anything, your surprise only growing as a massive, shit-eating grin spreads across his gorgeous, scruffy face.

It’s a look you know well, one you’ve come to both love and despise. It’s the same look he gave you when he told you he wanted to build (not pay someone else to build, build himself) a deck in a house you moved out of two months later, when he almost got a face tattoo, when he sold your house (you know, the one he wanted to build a deck for) to buy one three streets away. That’s the look he get when some grand idea that will probably turn out to be a disaster – the look that says “this may be a disaster, but the only way to see if it is will be to try it.”

In an instant, Bucky closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. As he arms wrap around you, you can feel him rub at the small of your back, just as he always does when he’s trying to keep you calm. “Yeah, babygirl. That’s me. I’m the White Wolf.”

You press your face in the warm embrace of his coat, muffling your speech. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky shrugs as he answers. “Didn’t want you to feel unsafe, I guess. Didn’t want you to worry about me.” He presses a kid to the top of your head. “Better question, why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, your small voice becoming even tinier. “I dunno…same reasons as you, I guess. Felt like I’d be dragging you into something you wouldn’t want to deal with.”

Bucky barks a laugh into the night, the sound reverberating off the tall buildings. “Seems reasonable.”

You pull away but refuse to make eye contact as tears well in your eyes and cloud your vision. For a mob leader, you’re very emotional. “Baby, are you sure? Like, are you sure this is okay? I mean, we kept this major part of our lives from each for literal years…like, does that say something about us as a couple? And we’re, like, rivals, we’re supposed to be competing against each other for money and goods and ports and clients and-“

Bucky cuts into your anxious ramblings by pulling you back into a tight bug. “Hey, hey! Baby, listen. This is a good thing! A great one, if you want it to be!”

You wipe at your nose with your hand. “Are you…what do you, are you sure? What do you mean?”

Bucky nods, eyes ablaze with excitement for the future. “Of course, baby, listen. Separate, our mobs are both powerful, right? We can agree on that. But together? With the territory, the influence, us...together, we could rule the fucking world.”

Technically, he isn’t wrong; with your strategy and Bucky’s brutal execution, your combined business could easily become the apex predator of the mob scene within the Western hemisphere. What Bucky had, you lacked, and vice versa. You’d studied his…business…for years (before you knew it was Bucky who ran the Pack, of course) as you climbed the ranks of your own mob. You know they have hands in several international black markets, have relationships with lots of lots of rich people who do lots and lots of bad things and pay lots and lots of money for those bad things.

Oh God, you’d never think being power-hungry and love drunk could feel so good. Your mind fogs over with all the things you could do if you had Bucky and his gang by your side, you could do anything. Simply by territory you’d be outgunning Hydra, let alone the combined wealth and human capital. You’ve never felt this exhilarated before in your life, the freezing night air electrifying your rib cage and-

Bucky and you grin madly. Wordlessly, you clasp hands and walk back to your shared apartment halfway across town. Both of you are silent until you’re safely inside your secured home. As you pull your hair up into a messy ponytail, Bucky began grabbing bowls for dinner.

“You know-” he said as he ladled soup out of the deep red Crock Pot. “Now that we aren’t desperately trying to hide our occupations from each other, we can move into a bigger house?’ Bucky says it like a question, but you know better.

Normally you’d tell him “no, of course we can’t do that, we can’t afford it.” But now that you both know that you’re each hiding hundreds of millions of dollars in offshore accounts, slush funds, and dummy corporations throughout the world…

“Sure,” you shrug. “Why not.”

Bucky grins like a child on Christmas. “If we’re gonna rule, we need the proper palace.”

You forego giving into Bucky’s terrible, awful joke to hang up your studded coat, to take off your business casual navy-blue pants and black button-up in, and change into a pair of workout shorts and some tie-dye hoodie you thrifted about ten years ago. Bucky calls them your “thinking clothes,” attire you wear specifically to center yourself, to clear your mind of everything except the task at hand.

During dinner, you and Bucky begin to plan how you can consolidate assets, personnel, jobs, and everything that comes with heading mobs. It’s a long talk, one that lasts long into the night and ends with hastily-drawn diagrams and maps strewn around your living room.

It takes hours and way too many pots of coffee, but eventually the plan for the merger is laid out in front of you – all the graphs and math and official language handwritten in your neat cursive (along with a few notes scrawled by Bucky) on over twenty sheets of pristine printer paper.

Bucky sighs happily when he sees it all finished. He’s standing, desperate for a bird’s eye view of the entire thing.

You, on the other hand, are much too tired to stand. You settle for, “How does it look, babe?” as you draw two lines for each of your signatures below both of your full names.

When you look up, you see Bucky – eyes twinkling with joy. “It looks…,” he sighs, happily. “Amazing. I love you so much.”

You giggle, drawing lines for a few witnesses (you’ll make a few of your associates sign tomorrow). “I love you, too, babe. Now, you still got that champagne from our visit to France?”

Somewhere between the front room and the wine fridge, Bucky had you pinned against the wall and was cupping your clothed pussy.

“While I think you look great,” Bucky murmurs against the hot skin of your neck. “You’re wearing just a little too much for me.”

In an instant he tears the skimpy shorts from your body, the sound of ripping fabric making you moan;

“Fuck,” you gasp as one digit, then another enters you. “Holy shit that feels good.”

Bucky pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, smiling as he watches your jaw slacken from the pleasure. “Yeah? You like that?”

If you could speak you would, but each word just comes out as a breathy moans. Your first orgasm hits you like a wave, Bucky pulling it from you with crooked fingers and his lips on yours.

When you come down Bucky carries you to the bed, undressing himself as you do the same.

He pulls you to the end of the bed by your ankles, pushing your legs up to your chest. He enters you easily – bottoming out within a few thrusts.

You and Bucky moan into each other’s mouths as he fucks into you.

“Oh God,” he groans, moving to kiss at your neck. “Holy shit!”

He rubs at your clit with the thumb of one hand as he bites bruises in your collarbones, desperate to hear the symphony of sweet sighs and deep moans as you near another peak.

“Come on baby,” Bucky murmurs into your lips. “Come on, cum around my cock for me.”

It doesn’t take much after that – a few more circles around your clit in time with his thrusts and soon you’re scream and nearly tears the sheets from how tight you’re gripping them and your whole body convulses from pleasure.

Bucky finishes himself onto your stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as he does so.

He takes a minute to collect himself, still panting as he grabs a tissue to clean you off.

After water and a snack (two granola bars you had stuffed into your bedside drawer an unknowable amount of months ago), you curl into Bucky’s chest, tracing the litany of tattoos there. “Weren’t we supposed to drink to celebrate?”

Bucky lets out a full belly laugh. “Probably. But the alcohol is all the way downstairs. Plus, I know something else I can drink to celebrate?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Only you? Why don’t I get to get drunk?”

Bucky just smirks, moving you off of him. You’re about to protest but begin to understand once he pushes the covers off the both you to make room for himself between your legs.

“Trust me,” he tells you, leaving kisses on your skin between every few words. “You’ll love this a lot more than any old champagne.”

And, of course, he was right.

The next day, you meet with your closest adversaries. While you two wait in the conference room in the building Bucky took over after it was condemned a couple years back, you can feel your heart ram into your ribcage. It’s less from anxiety and more from anticipation, knowing you might face major backlash from the people you trust the most.

The first to arrive is the woman you trust the most in this world: Natasha. She doesn’t move towards the table, simply stands just inside the doorway while staring you down. She doesn’t recognize Bucky, but doesn’t enjoy being below the eyeline of a man she’s never seen before.

“Natasha,” you say, desperate to remain calm. “This is Bucky. We’ve been together for five years. And he’s the leader of the Pack.”

In a fashion much atypical for Natasha Romanoff, her eyes widen slightly. “Oh…” she says after a long while. “Okay then.”

She promptly sits down with no further questions.

As with many business, heads and second-in-commands of mobs rarely come face to face. They have goons, messengers that do their footwork. Descriptions of the faces belonging those in charge pass around akin to rumors, only whispered quieter.

Which is why, when Steve comes in, he has no idea what to think until Bucky introduces you and Natasha.

By the time Bucky’s finished talking, Steve’s beat red. “Buck, what the fuck is this.”

“Just,” Bucky sighs, worried about his phrasing and angering his best friend on the face of the planet (whether that be Steve, for reasons that feel obvious, or you, for reasons that feel even more obvious). “Sit down. We’ll explain-“

“’We’ll!’” Steve nearly screams.

Bucky is the only one who flinches at the sudden loud noise. You finish his sentence for him. “Yes. Bucky and I will explain.”

Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like taking orders from a rival. Still, he sits at the large, oval conference table opposite Natasha.

The last two people to come in are the head of you and Bucky’s legal departments. Wanda gives you a single nod before sitting next to Natasha, a man Bucky addresses as “Tony” sits next to Steve.

You exhale deeply once the metaphorical dust settles, encouraging Bucky to begin the spiel he had prepared last night been orgasms four and five.

“Alright. We have,” he sighs. “We have decided to combine our two…”  Bucky struggles to find the right word. He worries for bugs and secret agents and misunderstandings, brain always struggling to remember that this is sacred, secret business. Any crack in any of the numerous protective facades could mean its downfall, along with the loss of billions of dollars and his life.

“Entrepreneurial endeavors,” you finish for him.

You hear Natasha snort, amused by the avoidance of saying gang and mob and illegal distributor of goods. The rest of your cohort are silent, unsure of what to say next.

Each beat of verbal inaction leaves you more fearful than the last, your heart getting louder and louder in your ears.

For what feels like forever, no one says anything.

Though, with the pounding of blood in your ears, they could be screaming obscenities at you and you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

The only thing that seems able to quiet the noise is Bucky’s fingers intertwining with yours.

Only then do you hear Wanda speak, her accent tinging each word. It’s comforting, to hear something so familiar.

“I assume you both have drawn up something that,” she eyes the man across from her with a look dusted with disdain. “Tony and I can look at.”

Bucky slides the thick document, held together in a beat-up binder you found under a bookshelf, across the table. Wanda is the one who stops it and looks into it first.

She says nothing, holding her tongue as she allows Tony to eye the document. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and pushes them to the corner of his nose as thumbs through it, looking bored and tired.

“Yeah, this shit looks good,” Tony says quickly, shoving the dark glasses back over his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

The resounding silence continues until you break it yourself, attempting to detail for Steve and Natasha what it all means. They listen diligently and sign where needed, Natasha being decided on as the most likely to type it up into an official document and send it to the necessary parties.

Once it’s all over, you and Bucky ride down in the big, glass elevator together – excitement electric in the air.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks. It doesn’t seem to be out of concern, even if tears of happiness are pricking at your eyes.

“God,” you tell him, voice breathy and ecstatic. “I don’t even know how to describe it. I just, I don’t know. I’ve been so terrified I’d have to hide this forever – or that you’d find out, or that someone would figure out who you were. And now…I just,” you wipe at your eyes, and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know you’re protected. And I don’t have to hide this from you. And I’m so fucking happy about it.”

Bucky kisses the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. “Oh, baby. Darling I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

The two of you stand in silence, holding each other until you have to exit. Neither of you say anything until you’re both in the car, safely on your way back to your shared home.

“We’re in this together right?” you ask, looking at Bucky as he keeps his dark eyes on the road.

Regardless he smiles, moving his right hand from the wheel to rest on your knee. “Always, baby. Always.”

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.4

a/n: I love Gei here xD do ya’ll love Gei? I hope you guys love his extra ass <3

warnings: this cannot be read solo, cursing(?), subtle flirting

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased​ @infinite-universe-love​

Taking your planner from your bag, you jotted down a reminder to dig up some old case files regarding the 3 villains Tsukauchi had just mentioned. Everything seemed clearer now as to why Overhaul managed to snag an invite. He was one of them no matter what his ideals were.

Forking the last bit of cheesecake, you stuffed your planner back into your bag and exited the shop. Scanning the area for any black cars, you were relieved that no one had been tailing you. There was a rising suspicion that Overhaul stalked you but perhaps it was simply chance. You couldn’t blame him though, you were usually buried under stacks of documents at this time of day.

Walking towards your first stop, you had to interview a witness by the convenience store. One of the cases you were working on involved arson. At first glance, you ruled it out to be some villain’s nasty prank. The more you dived into the case, you realized this was organized.

“So you recall seeing a person with black hair across the street?” You questioned the cashier while eyeing some chocolate bars. “Do you remember what he wore or an estimate of his height?”

“I can’t really picture his height but I do remember him wearing  a dark blue jacket with a high collar.” Peering at the glass doors, the witness tried to think back on the events that had happened. It had been a week since the incident but the fear was still there. “He just stared at the store for a couple of minutes, I remember. After that, he turned to that corner over there. Moments later, the explosion happened.”

“Hmm…” You mentally took down notes. Nothing much to take from that statement. “Well, thank you for your time and if you see something please don’t hesitate to call.”

Handing him your business card, you exited the store and crossed the street. Heading towards the corner mentioned, you scanned for any possible belongings left behind or a tell tale sign the initial investigators failed to see. Nope. Empty-handed.

Making your way back to the precinct, you felt a vibration in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you stopped walking and you blinked yourself back to reality.

You: Thanks for the cheesecake. Not gonna work.

Overhaul(?): Bold of you to assume I was after something.

Would it be logical to reply to his message? Moving aside to let people walk, your thumb tapped the locked screen. Generally speaking, there would be nothing wrong if you answered back. Communication was key, afterall. And, to top it off, he was basically your partner for this mission. Maybe some playful banter here and there wouldn’t hurt. That’s all you’ve been doing, anyway.

Chewing on your lower lip, you scowled and put your phone back into your pocket. Tsukauchi was right. His charm was strong. Either that or you're just paranoid of being kidnapped by one of the strongest men in the yakuza. Yet, a part of you wanted to know if he was waiting for your response. Probably not. Facing your gray cubicle once again, you rummaged through the metal file bin and pulled out a rather thick manila envelope. Closing the drawer with your foot, you tossed the envelope to your desk and began to search for what you needed.

The first document you found was of Nokusu. Looking at his quirk information, you took into account his ability to bend and manipulate shadows. The small footnote indicated that light played no weakness to his quirk. He wasn’t that up there in terms of ranking but he knew his cards well enough.

Setting it aside, the next file you picked up was of Tamisura. Ahh. You remember her all too well. Still an intern at the time, it was still clear as day the way the chief of police came with a rather huge gash on his chest. Healing him took 4 days and the only thing he mentioned was a name. Tamisura.

There was no detail about her quirk. Flipping a few more pages, the chief’s statement was all you had.

‘It seems as if her quirk gives her momentum. Stopping her movements was impossible.’ That’s what it stated. With the number of quirks present, it was a little too vague for your liking. Oh well. You had an idea and you could pull some straws with that. Stacking it on top of Nokosu’s file, you found the last of the three.

Akuji. Holder of one the most annoying quirks to deal with. Telepathy. Everyone is an open book when it comes to his mind.

Ransacking the files, you let out a loud and long groan. To your amazing luck, their profiles all had masks covering their faces. No stranger to this turn of events, you thought about contacting your confidants about possible information regarding these people but even you didn’t want to risk their safety. Villain or not. It became a habit of yours to make sure the favors you ask for are worth it.

Resting your chin on your palm, you reached for your phone and unlocked it. The first thing you see was the exchange you and birdman had. Checking at Tsukauchi’s desk, you found him hunched and busy encoding his cases. Eyes back on the screen, you decided to send a little message.

You: Busy?

Overhaul(?): Are you after something now?

You: I hate you. But, yes.

Overhaul(?): No.

What were you even expecting? Amused with the little exchange, you stretched your joints and packed your stuff. The profiles of the three villains now tucked into your bag. With only 15 minutes left before your shift ends, you took the liberty of scrolling the internet for dresses. Told to dress appropriately for the gala, you would have to comply.

There was no theme indicated but you were sure to go there with a black ensemble. That color was the safest and it was also the easiest to pick from. Getting a faint picture as to what you wanted to buy, you peaked at the wall clock and immediately turned your desktop off.

"Before you leave," Tsukauchi piped up. Peaking at you from his cubicle. "Chief wants to talk to you."

Nodding at his message you went up the stairs and hummed towards the chief's office. He'd probably want updates. He always did have a knack for annoying you. The mission barely started and he's already pinning you to the corner. Knocking on his door, you heard the permission to enter.

Now seated on the guest sofa, you gave him a respectful bow. As did he. Telling you to sit down, you obeyed.

"I request a little update of the mission." He began. The not so subtle exhale from your nostril only proved how obvious he could be at times. "How's working with Overhaul?"

"The status of the mission only has one movement. The upcoming gala has a few villains joining as well." You reported. "I'm not so familiar with how the yakuza works in big events like this, though. So, I took...no. I decided to join the event with him as my plus one."

"Smart choice." He nodded at the developments. "Has he taken his mask off?"

Snickering at the question, you shook your head.

"Take that as a side quest of yours." He instructed. "We need an update on his profile. We're still empty as to what he looks like without that mask. Gain his trust. Just enough for him to show you his face."

Great. Your personal mission just evolved into official business. Accepting the task, you pushed it aside and would rather let things take its course naturally. Overhaul was something else and there was no way you would rush things. Especially if it meant him showing something personal. You were keeping your word. One purpose and one purpose only.

Conveying what he needed to, he dismissed you and you were more than excited to get the hell out of his suffocating office.

Take out. That's what you needed to unwind.

Now that you were walking down the street, establishments began to light up the path. Neon signs heavily contrasting the orange and pink skies. With the mall coming to view, you decided now would be a good time to look for an outfit. And, mostly because shopping calmed your nerves each time you had the talk with the chief.

The air condition was heaven. Heading to the area where dresses were sold, you went inside the first store you saw.

The dresses were nice but came with a high price. Though thanks to your dad, your shopping needs were never a problem. Keeping yourself glued to the ground was always simple. With the job you had, the temptation of impulsive buying always flushed down the drain. Instead, the money put under your name went into aiding your missions and a few under the table deals here and there.

Seeing a dress you liked, you decided to try it on.

Inside the plush fitting room, you stared at your reflection. This brand always did good at flaunting the curves you had. The amount of running and training you did paid off. The dress was backless save for a small but secure bow resting on your nape. The lace mesh wrapped your arms delicately and the bead work was intricate. He would like this.

"Whot?" You thought out loud. Scratching your nape, your vision trailed towards  your face in the reflection. Your cheeks were a little pink and once again your heart rate was a little quicker than normal. “Lack of sleep. Caffeine overdose. Yes.”

Deciding to buy the said dress, you were accompanied to the counter by the clerk. As they were preparing the box and paper bag, you scanned a few trinkets inside locked glass boxes. Most of them jewelry for women and studs for men. They did look nice but you weren’t a big fan of diamonds.

One did capture your attention. Moving closer to it, you saw a shiny gold pair of cufflinks. Upon closer inspection, you saw how the small jewelry had what looked to be a crow. It was small but distinguishable if you knew your birds. Checking the tag, it wasn’t all that expensive. Y20,000.

Okay, maybe it was a little expensive but it looked hella worth it.

“Here’s your dress, miss~” The clerk snapped you out of your thoughts. The smile she used on all customers showing on her face. Her cherry red lips popped due to her pale skin. Accepting the bag, you glanced one more time at the tiny trinket. She seemed to catch up quickly. “Those are limited edition Bivenchy cufflinks. Would you like to see them?”

“Uh, w-” You let out a defeated sigh and agreed to look at the cufflinks.

An hour later, you were now back in the comfort of your apartment. The big paper bag with your dress now laid flat on your coffee table. Beside it, a smaller box with the brand’s name displayed in the center. Sending death glares to the impulsively bought item, you took out the contents and flopped onto your sofa.

Flipping the lid open, inside were the same cufflinks. They seemed to shine even more with the lights your unit had. Cursing yourself, you hadn’t put into consideration that a guy like Overhaul would probably have this item already. Or, something even more expensive knowing him. Closing the box, you placed it on the table and did what you had to do for the rest of the night.

Now that you were ready for bed, you scrolled down to Gei’s contact and called him.

“Hellooo my sweet quiet friend.” He greeted. The faint sound of television could be heard in the background. “What can I do for thee?”

“Hair and make up in two days, is that alright?” You asked shyly. When it came to underground thugs or villains, you were hella confident in asking for favors or settling deals. But when it came to Gei, you were like a child in her first day of school.

“Wanna look good for yo man, I presume?” He teased. For sure, his right eyebrow was cocked high by now.

“I wanna look good for the people in the gala.” You defended yourself. Twirling a few strands of your hair, you let out a yawn. “And, I don’t trust myself with makeup.”

“What time will he be pickin you up, booboo?”

“6. So, you can drop in at 4.”

“Copy on that.” He agreed. “OH OH OH. Did you buy a dress? Please tell me you’re not wearing that monstrous thing from 2 years ago. Honey, that color made me want to puke.”

Cringing at the memory of that vile yellow and purple dress, you THOUGHT you looked good in.

“I went shopping. Don’t worry.”

“What brand?”

“Auscer de la Venta…”

“YAS BEECH! WIG SUH-NATCHED!” He screeched through the line. “I swear to Queen Todrick, if his jaw ain’t gonn drop, imma whoop. His. Ass. even if it kills me. Oooh~ You think he’ll take his mask off?”

“Probably not. I doubt he’d even eat anything at the gala.” There it was again. The second person to wonder about what he was hiding underneath. There was the idea that he hid his face so he could get away if things didn’t turn out. But you recalled his explanation that he hates the air around him. “He hates dust so taking the mask off would probably be the last thing he would ever do.”

“Oh my lords.” Gei breathed out. “If he disappears when the food comes, I bet my money he’ll be eating in the men’s toilet.”

Okay. That made you laugh. Hopefully, you wouldn’t picture that scenario when he comes pick you up.

Gossiping for a few more minutes, your energy levels were now gone. Saying farewell to your friend, the moment you closed your eyes, you immediately fell asleep.

- - - - -

are yall enjoying the story so far? :’) comment or message me if you want to be a part of Overhaul’s waiting list or any questions about the story :)

[bikermiafey]

Simon Keyes and Dahlia Hawthorne: an Analysis

Spoilers for aai2 and aa3 under the cut. Also it’s... really long (Special thanks to my editor for keeping me coherent ish!).

Dahlia Hawthorne and Simon Keyes have a lot more in common than just red hair and a penchant for pink. From their family situations, to their motives and fears, and even to the very few people they ever trusted, their story lines run very similar. In the end, while they are both murderers, they are also victims of a broken justice system and poor family lives. Miles Edgeworth even acknowledges that Keyes is also a victim at the end of Keyes' case.

I am putting one more warning here, just in case. This analysis contains heavy spoilers, and I don’t intend to beat around the bush or hint. I will be saying the spoilers straight out. Any trigger warnings related to aai2 or aa3 should be applied as well.

Dahlia Hawthorne’s relationship with her mother is one made purely of use, with no affection on either side. When Dahlia is reunited with her mother before her execution, her mother convinces her to participate in one more murder plot. This is her first time talking to her mother since she was young. It’s clear that her mother doesn’t care about her, as she shows no sympathy for her estranged daughter, only using her to help Pearl Fey. Even Morgan’s love of Pearl is conditional and fake: she only loves Pearl for her spiritual powers. It only stands to reason that she didn’t care for Dahlia or Iris at all. While this is extrapolation, it didn’t seem like she cared much when her husband took her children away from her. She even could have brought Iris back home after she was left at Hazakura temple, yet as far as we know, she never even tried. While Dahlia agrees to the murder plot in prison in order to get revenge on Mia Fey, it can also be argued that it’s a last ditch effort to gain her mother’s approval: if she succeeds in the murder plot, though she will already be dead, she can let her spirit move on knowing that her mother has slightly more respect for her.

Keyes' relationship to his father is similar: though he believes his father left him because he died, in reality, his father simply didn’t care enough about him to find him. His mother, who is never mentioned, is presumably out of the picture. His whole life, he believes not that it was his father who was a murderer, but that Knightley’s father had killed his, and therefore, the way to get revenge was through Knightley. However, whether his father had been the victim or the murderer, does not change the fact that he was left alone in the care of Patricia Roland, who proceeded to mistreat or even abuse him. His father, albeit unknowingly, even managed to poison the one successful relationship he did have: his friendship with Knightley.

Keyes whole backstory revolves around revenge on Knightley, who betrayed him when they were children, and revenge on Roland, Debeste, and the body double, who all wanted him dead (and in Roland’s case, was so horrible to him that he ran away from the orphanage, though we’re not told exactly what happened.) Even if he’d managed to forgive Knightley for what had happened as children, Knightley still worked for one of the people trying to kill him: the body double. Of course, it also has to do with his father, but I’ll get to that later.

Dahlia’s story begins when her father takes her and her sister and leaves their mother. Here, she convinces her father to drop Iris off at a temple, though it’s shown they still keep in touch. The best guess I can make as to why she did this is that she did, in fact, care for Iris, however thought caring was a weakness and so sought to get rid of her. The same can be argued (and I have seen it argued) for Knightley and Keyes: Keyes had Knightley removed (though much later in their lives and to a more extreme degree than Iris and Dahlia) because despite his resentment of his best friend, he still had affection for him.

Dahlia and Keyes did trust Iris and Knightley up until a certain point. Dahlia had originally involved Iris in her kidnapping plot, however, Iris backed out at the last minute. Dahlia seems to have forgiven her for that, enough to let Iris convince her to let her be the one to try and get the evidence back from Phoenix. Iris proceeds to betray Dahlia even more: she falls in love with Phoenix for real, vowing to protect him, as well as failing to regain the evidence. This is when Dahlia throws Iris away for real: while before, she’d always let her affection for her sister get in the way of leaving her behind completely, she now has no such excuse. If even Iris turns against her, Dahlia truly has no one on her side, causing her to become even more afraid and angry, as she sets in motion her plot to kill Phoenix. Not only is she getting desperate for the evidence back, but this way she also gets revenge on her sister and her betrayal, as her sister was the one person she thought to always be in her corner.

Keyes sense of betrayal comes much earlier in his life. Right from some of his earliest memories, his friend had kidnapped him and nearly gotten him killed for the sake of his father. Keyes never had a chance to work through this grudge, instead internalizing it. Yet, Knightley was still his only friend, and therefore by default, his most trusted one. After spending all those years by each other's sides, it’s unlikely Keyes didn’t feel some sort of camaraderie with him. By killing Knightley, Keyes was not only removing the person who betrayed him, but also his weakness: the one person he truly cared about. Like Dahlia, he saw emotion and love as a weakness, something to use and get rid of once it had served its purpose. Yet in the end, he cared more about Knightley’s betrayal than any friendship.

At 14, Dahlia enters a relationship with a 20 year old, Terry Fawles. Dahlia is a child, entering a relationship with a fully grown adult. While she didn’t know better, there’s no way he didn’t. No matter how you look at it here, there is an element of grooming and coercion that was not touched on, as she was drawn into a relationship with a 20 year old. Not to mention, he was her tutor, adding even more of a power imbalance than there already was. This also makes her motivations for the staged kidnapping that much more interesting. Her sister, Valerie, was a police woman, also an adult, and, as we know she was involved in the fake kidnapping, she must have been aware of the relationship between her sister and Fawles. If anyone had been in a position to stop this relationship, it would have been her. She was an adult, the sister of Dahlia Hawthorne, AND a police officer, whose jobs are supposed to be stopping things like this. However, she didn’t. This probably instilled a distrust of the justice system in Dahlia, just as Simon Keyes had a distrust of the justice system based on how one of the people looking to kill him was a high ranking official.

Here, we get to Dahlia’s motivations for the kidnapping: not only does she get to have half a million dollars if this goes well, but once she and Valerie betray Fawles, he will be sentenced to life in prison, and unable to harm her anymore.

This is similar to a lot of Keyes’ plots, though he doesn’t tend to use framing. Instead, Keyes simply manipulates people into killing each other for him, getting them out of his way. He manipulates Roland into killing Knightley, getting Roland away from him so that she cannot chase and hurt him any longer.

Dahlia fakes her death and for five years, she is safe. Then, she finds out that Valerie intends to give away the secret to the kidnapping. This is dangerous for Dahlia: if people found out that Fawles had not killed or even kidnapped anyone, his sentence could be greatly reduced or he could even be set free. Then, not only could Fawles be free, but he would know that she’s alive.

This most likely caused her a great deal of worry. Now, we never find out whether her first murder was premeditated or not. In either case, Dahlia likely panicked at the thought of her secret getting out. The only difference is whether this panic caused her to prepare in advance, or if she intended to plead or bargain with her sister, only to stab her in the end when that didn’t work.

This is Dahlia’s first direct murder. However, Fawles later dies at his trial, drinking a bottle of poison that she had given him at age 14. This had likely been her backup plan to the kidnapping, if somehow she had been found out, he would have drank the poison. He only intended to drink it if he thought he couldn’t trust her anymore, which he wouldn’t have if he discovered the betrayal.

You may now by wondering why she panicked and killed Valerie, then. Two reasons: first, this backup plan had a high likelihood of indicting her as a possible suspect. It was a very last resort. The second reason is that if she hadn’t killed Valerie, Valerie would have exposed that they had stolen the diamond. This would mean that Dahlia herself would have gone to prison, a place she understandably didn’t want to go, and it would have opened questions regarding the current whereabouts of the diamond.

I don’t believe Dahlia was lying, on the stand, when she stated that the reason she hadn’t revealed her true identity as Dahlia Hawthorne was because she was afraid of Fawles. It wasn’t the whole truth, not was it a whole lie.

Even after getting away with this trial, Dahlia cannot escape. She is interrogated by Diego Armando, and likely feeling threatened, poisons him. She then gives the evidence to Phoenix Wright, to hide her involvement. This is when Iris enters the scene.

Iris is very much to Dahlia what Knightley is to Keyes. Iris and Knightley were maybe the only people who cared about Dahlia and Simon. They were willing to do almost anything to keep them safe and help them. In a way, Dahlia and Simon were the only people they had to rely on. (Iris also had Sister Bikini, but Dahlia didn’t have anyone else, and Iris felt a sense of obligation about that.) While Dahlia and Keyes also cared for them on some level, in the end, they were more useful to manipulate and use than truly care for.

I have seen some head canons and theories that as Knightley was being interrogated by Roland, he must have realized that Simon had set him up. These theories continue that he could have then ratted Simon out to Roland, but he didn’t, instead letting himself die out of loyalty to the person who set him up. After all, that person was his childhood friend, and Knightley at least cared for Keyes. In that case, he’s even more similar to Iris, who tried to protect Dahlia even to the end despite her knowledge of Dahlia’s crimes and the fact that Dahlia was the one who convinced their father to leave her behind.

In the end, Dahlia Hawthorne and Simon Keyes lived in much the same way: for themselves, and by themselves. They simply couldn’t understand that even if they had been wronged before, there were still people waiting to take their sides. All they could focus on was the things said people had done to hurt them, and not the multitude of other ways these people had tried to help them. That was their final downfall.

If you made it this far, wow! I appreciate your dedication, and thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

[huntergatherercreator]

The Takedown | Part Six

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood and weapons

Notes: Took a little break after the last part as I’m working two jobs again, but now that I’m settled I can go back to a part a week from now on. 

If you enjoy this please let me know, all feedback is appreciated! :)

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Part 6 - 1,902 Words

As soon as his men cleared out I dropped back into the seat, the pain from my arm hitting me along with the first twinges of a headache. None of the other patrons had batted an eyelid at my injury, and even now, after clearly being able to work out the situation, remained sitting at their respective seats finishing their drinks unhurriedly. The fact that this must happen so regularly for them to have a calm attitude about murder and no internal compulsion to aid the police chilled me. There was a lot more going on here than we could have imagined.

Zoey brushed past with a muttered instruction to meet her in the back. I watched her pick her way over to the door that led to the back hall, head deliberately held high as if she wasn’t affected by any of this either.

I placed the bottle of vodka back behind the bar and for once I wasn’t able to solidly hold back the small spark of temptation. The urge to take a sip, just enough to taste it on my lips slithered through my barrier. A deep breath and I managed to push it away.

I bundled my used napkins into the bin at the end. I hoped that when my blood was found outside the captain wouldn’t press for a warrant to get in, it’d only worry him finding these in the trash. If he was quick enough that is. I knew logically the place would be wiped down long before they managed to get the DNA results back.

Grabbing my wind breaker I followed Zoey’s path into the narrow back hall. The sconces were dim and suffused with pink light giving everything a rosy appearance. Despite what the adjoining rooms were used for the only sound was the same jazz music filtered into the bar. I passed several with ties attached to the handles before reaching the end door labelled ‘Private’.

When I entered Zoey was pacing back and forth around the room. It took me a long second to recognise it as an office, especially as my eyes adjusted to the harsh strip lighting. The room was surprisingly bare. A lone desk with a table lamp and computer gathering a fine layer of dust was the main item. The soft leather of the chair perched behind it was still fresh and crisp as if no-one had sat in it yet. I hadn’t been expecting incriminating documents to be lying about, but there was nothing. No filing cabinet, no calendar with stock delivery dates, not so much as a rogue business card. It made sense now why we’d never been able to pin anything on them. I would place a bet that the hard drive on the computer was completely clean too.

I watched the furrow between her eyes deepen before she came to a stop before me, arms tightly crossing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she barked.

I sagged back against the wall as a sigh bubbled up. “I didn’t have a choice. If I let him get killed then it’d be case closed.”

Lips tightening she threw me a spearing look as she stalked closer, “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Why were you antagonising him? You’re supposed to be ‘undercover’ which means laying low.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes to the critical look boring into me. I could feel my headache worsening.

“Laying low won’t work. I don’t have the time to be working through the ranks, it could take years now that I know he’s set out strict guidelines for all his men.”

“That doesn’t mean you go from zero to sixty and start riling him up. He’s dangerous.”

Annoyance flaring I straightened up, forcing her to back off. “You think I don’t know that? The whole reason I signed up for this is because he’s dangerous. We can do as much police work as we want but we’ll never take him down. If I get close to him like this I can level the field with the information I gain.”

“You can justify it as doing your part for the city all you want, but what I saw back there wasn’t you, you enjoyed challenging him.”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Had it been that obvious? If she’d picked up on it had he too?

“Just as I thought,” she shook her head but her features softened. I angled my face away, stepping around her to stand at the desk as heat flushed my cheeks.

“Being undercover isn’t for everyone. It’s mentally and physically stressful. No-one would blame you if you had to back out.” I refused to turn. The sympathy of her tone cut through me.

“There is nothing wrong with me. I can handle this case just fine.” I retorted through gritted teeth as my hackles rose. I repeated the words internally to myself. I was fine. This case wasn’t getting to me.

“I’m sure you can, but at what cost?” I heard her curse under her breath as she shuffled around me to get within my line of sight again. “I can’t let you endanger my case anymore.” She’d already signalled this when Melissa had been pulled up but it cut more now knowing she was making the decision because she couldn’t trust my judgement.

“I think it’s best I let you out the back exit. A team will be here soon.”

The exit she’d referred to was one used solely during the prohibition. It came out a street over in a back alley, the  hatch that let me up to street level was hidden by a prop dumpster light enough to be pushed out of the way even with my injured arm.

Hearing the sirens of a cruiser I circled around the streets for a while, unsure of where I was really going until I saw the steps for the Tribeca Bridge. It was still dark, not long past one now and I knew it was a risk to be out in the open especially after the events of the night but still I let my feet guide me around to The Battery and over to a stretch of the railing. The water was inky black, reflecting the lights of the city behind me but giving nothing away about its depth as it lapped at the bay. A cool breeze rippled off it stilling the sweat on my skin. Hands gripping onto the cold metal of the rails I took several deep breaths to try push away the lingering nausea floating in my stomach and fuzziness in my head.

I couldn’t help but replay Zoey’s words but I still refused to acknowledge what she’d been saying. I may not have full control over the situation, I never expected to in a case this versatile, but I knew what I was doing. I was a detective, it was my job. For her to second guess my instincts and my training rankled me. I was and would work this case to the best of my ability and if I ever felt I was in too deep then I’d take proper precautions.

Holland had added another to his death tally tonight, albeit indirectly, and I had no doubt the bodies would keep piling up, getting younger and younger as each side tried to recoup their loses by recruiting whoever they could to keep their ‘businesses’ going. I had to get to the heart of his operation before that became a reality.

I had gained such a valuable negotiating tool in saving his life, now I needed to take time to work out what I could exchange it for.

****

Despite closing the curtains the late morning sun had snuck in around the edges and lit the room enough to wake me. Checking my watch on the small end table it showed I’d been asleep for six hours. My body ached as I stretched out on the thin sheets, protesting as I jerked my arm too fast. A normal day and six hours would have been heavenly, now it barely took the edge off.

Reluctantly getting out of bed I stripped it down, my bandages having soaked through to leave large spatters on the sheets. I’d eventually managed to take a proper look at it after a scalding hot shower when I’d got home. It had passed clean through the outer edge of my arm, missing anything critical but carving out a large chunk of tissue between the entrance and exit wounds. They were small wounds so I’d opted against sewing them shut, simply cleaning it out with more medicinal alcohol from my first aid kit and bandaging them up with gauze pads and wrap and taking a few pain meds to take the worst of the pain away.

I bundled the sheets into the laundry basket along with my clothes from the day before, already pre-soaked and scrubbed to get the majority of the blood out. They were the only things in the basket, not enough for a full load but it made me itch thinking they still had remnants of the night before lingering on the fabric, as if washing them would make the events disappear a little.

As I thought about leaving them until after breakfast the itch grew until I finally threw on a pair of joggers and hoodie on over my nightwear and shoved the items into a bag. I trudged down to the basement, threw them on a high wash and marked the machine with my basket.

I hadn’t passed anyone on the way down. From what I could tell most of the tenants in the building worked all day or just never left their apartments so we never crossed paths. Which was fine with me, it meant one less person to keep up the pretence with. However now, as I reached my landing, there was a man wandering along the hall. I made to move out of the stairwell behind him until I noticed the hesitant way he was walking.

Shifting back into the doorway I watched him pause at a door for a second before moving on. It wasn’t until I caught the slight tilt to his head beneath his hood that I realised he was listening at each apartment. Unease creeping in I took time to properly assess him. Dressed in a perfectly sized hoodie and crisp jeans warning signs flared. Despite the attempt to appear casual this was someone who had spent more than the usual couple of dollars on his outfit. It was a disguise, and a bad one at that for this neighbourhood. They reached the end of the hall, stopping again outside my apartment on the right before turning to head back with a visible shake of their head. It was then I caught a glimpse of their face. Frustration swelled backed by an edge of anger that he’d turned up at my home, that he’d somehow been able to track me, I almost revealed myself but now that I could see his front I froze. His hands were shoved into the front pockets, one taking up more space than the other meaning he was holding something. I didn’t need a police badge to know that the additional bulge in his pocket was a weapon.

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Taglist: @spideylovin @lukesbabylon @panicattheeverywherekid @keep-bears-wild

Part Seven up now!

[smolbeandrabbles]

I Think He Knows - Orson Krennic x Reader 1 (Rogue One)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the request dearest Anon! This was a lot of fun, and I got to come at the relationship from a different perspective. I genuinely... LOVE writing him like this.

This also includes the original ending to Gratitude that I lost and subsequently found in my notebook... And fits in well here! 😊 (But is not the end!)

Disclaimer: Star Wars Characters not mine / Plot is request / I own nothing! / Slight AU  Premise (As Requested By Anon ❤ ): I have been thinking a lot about an au with a ofc who is outranking Krennic and at first he kinda hates her, but with time he seems to notice the way she looks at him, secretly helps him. And when he accidentally finds that she was trying to promote him, he’s confused and come to her for answers There might be a slight change on the ending you wanted... But I hope you enjoy anyway 😘😘😘💜💙  Words: 5676 Warnings: N/A... Some mild swearing / drinking

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I think he knows his hands around A cold glass Make me wanna know that body Like it's mine He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans He's so obsessed with me, and boy I understand Boy I understand ...Got that, oh! I mean Wanna see what's under that attitude Like, I want you, bless my soul And I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows I think he knows So where we gonna go? I whisper in the dark Where we gonna go? I think he knows

--- You knew exactly who Orson Callan Krennic was. You’d known all about him since the Futures Programme. Not because you were anywhere near in the same year or class, although, technically you studied the same thing… But because he seemed to show up every so often and flaunt how brilliant he was. Now, you knew the ranking system, so every time you saw him you wondered who exactly he thought he was, and why he’d talk so loud if he was at least as far down the order as he looked. Luckily, you didn’t see him often – but when you’d graduated you’d started working in the same field. Mercifully you didn’t have to work with him, he outranked you and was off in far flung exclusive corners of the galaxy you weren’t going to reach in a hurry, working on projects that at the time you could only dream of being a part of. Only, you didn’t cause problems. You were quiet, you got on with your job and you did it exceptionally well. That earned attention, and luckily the right attention. Because you’d also noticed that every time you heard whispers of Krennic’s name around here it was usually said with distain, and accompanied with all the Galaxy’s gossip about what he was doing to piss someone off this time. The harder you worked, and the more experience you gained – the more niche your skills got, you found yourself becoming indispensable to the Empire. That knowledge swept through your division pretty quick, and soon enough you were stretched to (almost) capacity working on things. People were desperate to have your name attached to anything they could – and now you were a centre of attention that people would back-stab each other to gain on their work. You were careful about that too, and allocated yourself as professionally as possible.   What did all this mean for you? Your rank increased, and kept increasing. And suddenly you were sitting in rooms you weren’t supposed to take information out of. That you weren’t even allowed to take equipment into the projects discussed were so secret. In fact – once you passed from one rank into the next you almost stopped hearing Krennic’s name altogether. Because when you walked into a room people stopped talking rumour; just incase you passed it on and they lost their jobs. At first you missed that, but realised quickly that you’d hear it anyway… only now directly from the source. You were almost free to forget about the man entirely. And the first time you ever had to have face-to-face contact with him, in all those years, came as a shock to you. You were sipping coffee in the elevator to your next meeting about another start up project that this time you were expected to head. No problems, you’d lead projects before and you would be trusted to do so with accuracy and efficiency. This one might be a little bigger, but you were confident you could deliver exactly as you were known for. Your assistant was running through the list of assignees to the team and suddenly you found yourself trying not to spit coffee all over the elevator floor; “Sorry, who!?” “Commander Orson Krennic… He’s uh, architecture, intelligence…” “Oh, I know who he is… Did you say Commander?” “Uh, yes. Th- That’s what it says…” He didn’t like the sudden broad smirk that crossed your face as you tried not to look at your own rank bar. You outranked him. You got to walk into a room and look at him and slam your folder down on a table and tell Orson Krennic what to do? Perfect! He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sure, Krennic had never met you. But he never forgot a face – and when they introduced the project lead he had to check twice. Because this surely wasn’t happening. He remembered you from the Futures Programme. Maybe you’d been in one or two of the lectures he gave; but you always sat with your arms crossed, looking at him like you didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. (That or downright bored; leaning on your hands the way that you did). And now you outranked him!? Outranked him and were about to order him around on this particular project, of all things? He was looking forward to this one before you’d walked into the room with your rank bar displayed like that. Stars, what did I do to deserve THIS-!?  You spotted Krennic straight away, staring at you with absolute distain. That just made you smirk more; you simply couldn’t help yourself. Seems like someone remembers me calling bullsh*t on all the pretentious nonsense he used to tell us in class. And he didn’t even lecture me all that much. You laughed to yourself, stepping up to give the project presentation, you were the only one in the room briefed, so this whole thing rested on you. You could take the pressure, and you were about to enjoy every second of this! Your eyes flicked to his and you simply had to wink; Payback’s a bitch, Orson Krennic. *** He couldn’t think of anything worse. For the most part, in truth, you left him alone to do what you knew he was best at. But you also kept him on a tight schedule, and it didn’t give him nearly enough time to go sneaking around trying to undermine you. (Apparently something you’d caught onto pretty quick that he liked attempting to do. God bless your colleagues for alerting you to this). You liked knowing what he was doing and where he was going (for you’d left him in charge of a pretty good chunk of the sourcing too), on the hour by the hour. Which was good for you, just in case he got the idea you weren’t watching him incredibly closely. But Krennic hated it (though, he hated it anyway) because every chance you got your sweep out of your office and loudly call him into it. Probably to remind him that he didn’t have his own. Probably also to let everyone know you needed to speak with him again. “KRENNIC! A word-!” Orson shot you a look; absolutely not. He was in the middle of a very important calculation, and if he messed it up, or left it, he’d never get back to it. You could damn well wait. Though, you didn’t like waiting, and when you came out of your office 5 minutes later to find him sitting in exactly the same position he was in before, you sighed; “Krennic! SOME time today!” He slammed his stylus down and his turn to you was quick; “I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!” Then immediately regretted it when the floor fell silent, and the look on your face told him that, as usual, every jab you made was to get a rise out of him. And it wasn’t often you weren’t successful. He sighed angrily and was forced to concede, feeling his face burning in the moment – he couldn’t tell quite yet whether in rage or embarrassment; “Can I just finish this?” Your eyes narrowed, and your face was almost stern as you folded your arms, “If you’d had said that five minutes ago, I’d have said yes. Not now, get in here.” Krennic stood, and his footfall into your office let you know how mad he was. “I need you to take care of something for me.” Krennic wanted to get argumentative, more than anything – he’d love to have a one on one screaming match at you if that’s what it took. But the more leash you’d give him the better. So he held his tongue. No matter though, it showed clear enough on his face; “Yes?” “You’re from Lexrul, right?” “Yes.” What would this have to do with his home world? “Good – I need to source something from a respectable trader, only my informants indicate that he pretty much won’t speak to anyone who isn’t from his home planet.” Ah, so she needs me. “He’s from Lexrul?” “Correct.” “...I suppose I can do that, if you give me the contact.” “Well, I’d like to be there.” He sighed internally – not enough of a leash, it seemed. “…So it’s set?” “Thursday, yes.” “Then I would be happy to help.” “Good. Kept those figures in your head?” He hesitated for a minute “Excuse me?” “From your calculation…” “Oh. Yes.” “Good, then I was quick enough – get back to it, I don’t want you to forget them… OH! And Krennic!” He turned before he left, “Yes?” “Your work so far has been incredible. Keep it up.” “…Thank… you?” He stepped back out of your office and then scoffed, yeah right… If she thinks she can kill me with kindness she’s got another thing coming… ** Work continued like this for the entirety of the project. And it only served to get worse. Every time you would put Krennic on something that sounded exciting – or might give him that little bit of power - you’d pull him from something else. Or you’d only let him conduct this one meeting, or sit in on this one deal. He realised you were either keeping him from certain information, or making sure you didn’t have to grant him certain access. No matter what your reasoning was. He’d be glad to see the back of you once this was over. But there was something else about you also. That the only time you’d vocalised that you were impressed with him was that meeting. After that you’d kept silent, but your admiration for his work appeared to be from afar. Like you thought saying words would only cause further conflict. Orson would often look up from his work to see you watching him. And he was worried to find that it unnerved him. Not that you watched him; even with his ill feelings for you, it was your job to make sure he was doing his, but it was the way you watched him. Krennic noticed that at first you seemed to hide it with an inquisitiveness, he worked at the other end of your spectrum – your niche was in another silo of architecture altogether. It would make sense for you to be interested. But he noticed that you never asked him about it. And pretty soon he also noticed that you weren’t watching his work, but him. And it wasn’t with interest, or admiration. If he thought he could do anything about it, Orson Krennic knew he would. That using what he saw would give him power over you. He knew that look, he read that look so often in other people – wasn’t he after all also in the intelligence bureau? And this would be intelligence that he could use. You didn’t look at him like a man working on a part of your project. You looked at him like a man you were falling for. Like the man who would take you down with him if he could… *** 9 months later… The lift slid to a halt about 10 floors before he expected it to an he glared momentarily at the buttons. All he wanted was a nice quite ride alone, Thank You! It only got worse when the doors parted and you were standing on the other side of them. You flicked your eyes up and down him and didn’t even bother with a verbal greeting – he’d likely throw back a snide remark or get all grumpy about it anyway. You stepped in and swept around to the keys; only noticing that the floor you wanted was already pressed. Press something else! Press something else! PLEASE be going anywhere but this meeting!!! If Krennic could get it to happen by sheer will he would have – but you took a step away. NO! You were curious though; “Looks like we could be heading to the same project meeting, Commander.” You noticed his intake of breath, and how his body seemed to rise an inch as he straightened and tensed his shoulders. Oh, now you’d pissed him off by addressing him by rank. He also didn’t answer you, which only confirmed your thought, and it became the longest 10 floor ride of either of your lives. You turned to him as you stepped out of the elevator, and once again he saw that look cross your face the same one you’d left burned into his head after the last project, only now you’d learned to hide it well. It was fleeting. And he cursed himself for wishing he could look at it for longer. “Well, Krennic, I’ll see you in the briefing…” With that you swept into the crowd – no doubt to mingle with those of similar rank. He sighed, looking at the bright red strip of his own. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll outrank you… and then you’ll see. * The first strategic meeting was okay (The one where everyone with some kind of stakeholder interest in this was present, beyond the working members of the main team themselves), even though he noticed you were sat over there near the front, being lorded on by the higher ups. Not everyone here would be working on the project and Orson realised that, but still... Why he had to sit all the way back here whilst you got to live it up in direct eye-line of anyone important he felt was insulting. And he found himself glaring at your back for the majority of the presentation. Just you wait until you need me for a niche piece of architecture you can’t figure out on your own...  The first planning meeting, the one with all the real movers and shakers in it, was where it really heated up. Krennic was almost surprised to receive the invite; he expected hand-me-down information from you at a need to know only level from you at best. When he got to the meeting however, he realised why you’d likely wanted him present. He was among the lowest ranking. The only ones around his rank, or lower, were your assistant and the administration team taking the minutes. He also noticed the place holder names around the table put you directly opposite him. And he knew immediately you’d had a hand in that, even if it had meant swapping them around yourself. But the meeting was hell. If you wanted to embarrass him, to belittle him in a public forum, in front of not only his peers, but people he admired and wanted the admiration of then, by the Stars, had you managed to do that here. In fact at the end he felt so utterly defeated he almost slammed his datapad into your chest and spat his feelings bitterly; I want off this project. I can’t work with you. But that would be showing weakness, and proving you’d broken him. And Krennic couldn’t have that. And that feeling of spite (maybe you wanted him off. And he wouldn’t give in to anything you wanted) was the only thing that made him hang on to his role here. There were lots of points in the meeting, before you’d continually shot him down, that Krennic was happy to be here. Even excited, elated that someone would raise something particularly difficult that he could do. And he would (politely!) raise his arm; “I am more than capable of completing such a task. I would certainly be happy to take it on...” Before you’d come in and cut across; “Our team will take it. Though I am happy enough to put Krennic on my team, you can route the work through me and I can decide where it goes.” He hated you, and he’d never hated you more than right then. Because you knew, you knew, he could do it, you know how desperately he wanted to boost himself a rank and you knew he wanted to prove himself to this particular table. The only reason they even swivelled to you and nodded in agreement was because of your damn rank bar.  Without that, in this room, on this subject - that hasten to add, he was an expert on - you would be nothing. Krennic was writing books on this before you were even in the academy and now he had to submit his skills to you. ** There was a bitterness to this project. More so than the last one. And the tension was horiffic – you felt that in the air, and you had to be careful, one foot wrong and it would snap, and you’d be at all out war. Although, you tipped your head surveying him again and biting your lip, when weren’t you putting one foot wrong in his opinion? Krennic spent the project just about acknowledging what you asked him to do, but he gave you no move verbal communication than was absolutely necessary. If he could get away with yes or no then he would. And you hated to admit that it hurt. If he was giving up on snarky sparing matches with you (that you obviously enjoyed) then something was very wrong. You knew he wouldn’t be able to see what you were trying to do for him... but he wasn’t supposed to, you had to go about this correctly. Besides half of the meetings you’d asked him to sit in on for this particular project he wouldn’t be in without you; he had nowhere near the clearance level; and you were giving him that for free. You couldn’t let him simply go off on his own and do it. You needed someone to stare at the magnificent creation and ask you who did it; whose idea, can I work with... “Orson Krennic. Yes.” He’s great. But you knew what Krennic really thought; You wouldn’t let him have any freedom. You didn’t trust him. You’d crush his creativity. There had to be something you could do to show him that wasn’t your aim. After all, that would do neither of you any good...  “Orson?” You tried a different route this time, maybe it was gentler to address him by his first name. You knew that rank didn’t work already(!) “Yes...” Apparently not. “I just received the next part of the project.” “Yes?” “I need you to run lead on it.” “Which part?” “All of it.” He looked to you with slight annoyance in those blue eyes, disbelieving. “Who is in charge?” “You are. We’ll finish up here, you’re wasted on this bit.” You placed the drive on his desk that contained exactly what you needed from him; “Do what you do best. Book a meeting with Commander D’Omnynn; he can brief you.” “I assume you want in on this meeting?” You gave a shrug “No...” and stepped away; “This is all yours... just, keep me regularly updated. Okay?” You walked away without either of you uttering another word, and his eyes fell from your frame walking away from him to the drive sitting in front of him. There’s a catch. Where is the catch? He picked it up. What if there wasn’t one this time? Then that left Krennic with one question. Why? *** Krennic worked so hard. So, so, so hard. And you got to watch this from afar with a smile. And hoped he wouldn’t see it. And it was incredible, the amount of files you got back with; This is excellent! Who is working this? or comments about work they’d seen your project, where you got to give a smile “Oh, that would be Krennic...” And more than once it raised surprised eyebrows that you were happy to see proven wrong. So, by the end of the project cycle he was practically running half of it. And Orson seemed a lot more confident; and on occasion he even wore a smile.   That meant he was present at the end of project drinks reception... but you were surprised to find him standing alone, sipping from a whisky glass. “Impeccable work, Orson.” He never turned that smile on you, not once. But he couldn’t help doing so at that. And that made you happier than you had been at the outcome of the project. Finally, he might trust you enough to give you his smile. “I suppose, without getting the opportunity to project lead...” “Say nothing of it. I knew you would be the right man for the job...” His face clearly read confused; Either she’s already drunk… or she wants something else… “Surprising really that you didn’t have me on a tighter leash the whole time.” “Why would you say that?” You were curious as to his reasoning. Orson gave a nonchalant shrug; “Oh, well...” he breathed, “you like it don’t you. Lording that rank bar of yours over me.” Part of you rebuked that, part of you couldn’t help but think he was right. And you felt a little ashamed; “I just like being in charge. I earned this rank... just like everyone else.” “Yes, but not everyone else sat in my lectures dying for the day that they could prove me wrong, did they?” “I didn’t necessarily want to prove you wrong...” you still held that small smile, “Maybe I did wanna wipe that smug smirk off your face.” But he didn’t really take that as a light hearted joke. In fact he laughed, almost bitterly and tipped his glass to you; that was sarcasm. “Well, congratulations, Y/N. You succeeded.” He finished the glass, set it down, and fixed you with those blue eyes. You’d lost him, you knew, they were hard and cold and nearly grey. “Now if you’ll excuse me...” Krennic turned away from you, then figured he had more to say and turned back; “I would appreciate it if any time I am put on another project with you, you will pass up the chance to work with me.” “Orson I-” he held up his hand not wanting to hear it, and trying to ignore the pains in his chest at saying this. He had his reasons; he knew what the looks you were giving him were doing to him. It was a confusing and he didn’t like it. Krennic’s only option was to cut it before it began. So he did. “Please. I would like to decline any other offer of work. So, simply don’t make them... maybe I’ll see you around the galaxy, Y/N.” It was all well and good him ignoring his own pains... but you gathered your hands to your own chest. He couldn’t help you ignore yours. *** There was a sharp knock at your door, and you thought twice about answering it – you were busy. If it was important they’d come back. Only the knock was persistent, and sounded a little more than just urgent.  When you opened it, you didn’t expect to come face to face with Orson Krennic. Your eyebrows furrowed; oh, now he was actively seeking you out to add another point to his futile argument. Despite the fact you hadn’t seen him for another few months since the Weapons briefing, and also he’d told you he didn’t want to work with you anymore. That left you a little icy with him, if only to try and protect yourself, his words had stung pretty bad; and you’d exchanged pretty sharp glances the entire way through the briefing. You both knew the other one wanted this one badly. Instead of looking angry like he was about to jab accusations at you, he looked perplexed. For a second both of you stood in silence – because you wanted him to admit to you why he was here, and he didn’t want to voice it. So instead you were standing in a silent corridor staring each other down with two equally confused expressions. Krennic conceded, and his eyes lowered from yours as he held up the thick sheet of folded paper; “…I… Don’t understand…” You were glad he wasn’t looking at your face, because for half a second you knew that sheer panic crossed it. He wasn’t supposed to know about it! He at least wasn’t supposed to know it was you who had recommending him – you narrowed your eyes slightly. Bastards-! You couldn’t trust anyone in this Galaxy! You took a moment to compose yourself and spoke; “Why?” His eyes raised, and he looked at least slightly ashamed “…I thought…” “You probably thought right, but I know someone worthy of a promotion when I see one.” Krennic gained a slight squint at your ‘compliment’ – but he wanted more of an answer than that; “That doesn’t explain why…” You nodded to the paper, “You shouldn’t even know it was me. I don’t need to explain anything.” “I don’t have the commendation – I just have your name.” You folded your arms and leant against the door frame; “So, you think I’m just going to let you read it?” “…E… Even if you just give me the highlights.” “No.” “Why?!” “You have no right to information! That’s meant to be anonymous – they’ll probably tell you when they give you your new rank bar. Are we done?” You stepped back but he took a step forward; “Y/N! I’m not leaving until you tell me why.” Narrowing your eyes again, you attempted to push him backwards, but he wasn’t budging. “Orson Callan Krennic! Until you get that new rank, I still out rank you! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” He sounded both panicked and exasperated as he ran his hands through his hair; “That’s not the point! I thought you wanted this!!!” “The battle station project? – I do. But I still know when someone can do the work better than me. And you can. More importantly, that’s what the Empire needs… and you have the process and resource. You do that right, you’re going to be more than just promoted.” He looked to the paper again; apparently every word out of your mouth was only serving to confuse him more; “…But it’d do the same for you.” “But you want it. So take it. Besides…” You offered a small smile “You know me, I’ll work quietly in the background, and should you fail…” You gave a shrug “Guess it’s mine.” Suddenly your smile transferred to him; “If I fail, you’re in as bad a position as me.” He waved the letter “You promoted me.” “Orson, honey, you can be one in a long line of mistakes I’ve made – the trick is, if you make yourself indispensable. People overlook that – how is it my fault if you don’t live up to expectations.” There was a subtle step back at that, not the sentence. The word. You’d just given him a cute nick-name without a second thought, and he didn’t know if that or the letter was the more confusing thing of the day. And now he was having trouble focusing his thought pattern on where he was previously heading… Krennic was usually quicker than this, and as you had to wait for another retaliation, and he searched your room as if somehow the words he was looking for would be somewhere in here – you sighed. “Orson…” Your voice was soft and it brought his focus back to you “Come here… sit down… If you won’t leave without knowing why, and you’re gonna stand in my doorway looking like that, we might as well get comfortable and talk about this…” He was slightly hesitant at first, but the good intentions look on your face persuaded him to take the offered seat on your couch. “Drink?” He gave a firm nod and you crossed the room; you would assume him a whisky man, and would join him. Why would you drink anything less - by the look on his own face both of you might be in need of this by the time the night was through.  You turned back to him eyeing your living quarters suspiciously, which made you chuckle. “Relax yourself Orson, this should be more of a celebration afterall... you’re not in trouble. When they present you your bar, I’ll hardly even be able to tell you what to do - which I think is what you want, isn’t it?” But that meant you wouldn’t look at him the way you did, or smile at him like that absentmindedly either. Would you work together now? Could you co-head projects. He smiled at his own thought - he might enjoy that a lot, he realised. Equals. It would be a new experience, but he would like to get used to it. You sat up on the couch, curling your legs up under you and handing him his glass; “…I’m not going to repeat the letter. But part of me is surprised you’d actively seek me out to find out why.” “…I…” He tipped his head and took a sip, words were clearly going to be a struggle for a man who didn’t exactly use them sparingly; but knew smarter ways to use them. “…Guess I just wouldn’t expect you to be the one. All you’ve ever done is push me.” “Yes.” “…And it hasn’t exactly ever been nice pushing. Every chance you get you push me down. Our last project you stole everything from me our first meeting and then went ahead and gave it to me anyway once I was assigned to you. Even I know it’s so you can walk around with that rank and…” He paused at the perplexed look on your face “…I’m…wrong?” “A little.” You gave a smile “Yes. I pushed you; and now you’re here. Doing work, no offense, you wouldn’t get to do without me. In meetings you wouldn’t be in without my invite. I didn’t do what I did in the briefing to undermine you – I did it to strengthen your position.” You set your glass down with a sigh; “Think about it. Sure you’re experienced; but even you know you have a reputation in this galaxy Orson. And it’s not the same reputation as me. They trust me to get it done, and they will overlook you. In a room like that the project is going one way even if you’re the smartest man in it.” You pointed to yourself “I’m not even sure it’s rank related; but if you want to use that against me, I suppose you’re more welcome.” It was clear he didn’t like some of the words that came out of your mouth, but he decided to swallow his pride with his whisky instead of argue with you. “You’re telling me you did all of that for my own good.” “Yes.” “Bullsh*t.” “Believe that if you want to. You’re outstanding at what you do. If I have to make people see that I will. Now you have the opportunity to make them see it for themselves. Go do it, don’t squander it.” You narrowed your eyes slightly; “And be respectful that it’s my name on that promotion slip.” He finished his glass and set it down; “Is it really because you think I deserve it?” You scoffed “What else would it be?” When he turned those blue eyes back on you, it was a knowing look. And it saw right through you. Your breath momentarily caught. “…I know, how you look at me.” He shook his head, “And I think I understand that feeling even less.” You bit your lips together, and you couldn’t hold those eyes. Faint pink crossed your cheeks, but it didn’t need to for him to know he was right. “…I can separate personal and professional, Krennic. It has nothing to do with my… feelings.” “So you admit you have them-!?” He was amazed at that, that you would just outright tell him. If your aim was to confound him even more you were certainly succeeding. You sighed, almost sounding defeated, and finally when you looked back to him, it was that look in your eyes he missed so much from the first project you’d worked on together; you weren’t hiding it, and you weren’t holding it back. And you came to a sudden realisation of your own; he already knew. “Y/N… I-” Krennic paused. How could he not know what to say? Maybe there wasn’t anything to say? But how could there not be. There was so much to say – too much to say? And he was as caught between personal feelings, that he’d kept at bay so easily since he’d walked away from you at the celebration, and professional ones; the things he should say at your commendation to lead to his promotion. He’d be a Director now. That was all on you. He’d head a Division of his own. He’d work on the battle station. He would lead that work.  There was a long silence, and when he opened his mouth again you knew why. “Thank you.” Suddenly every feature was sincere “…I don’t think I’ll… say it enough…” It was quiet admittance. And you knew he’d probably never say it again. You smiled, that same small smile that always brought him back to you from a galaxy far, far away. “You don’t need to say it. I know.” Something in his blue eyes stirred and he realised you had no idea, that he would know how you felt from every non-verbal interaction you’d ever given him. That you had no idea he felt similarly. Until right now. Something was so clear about the way he was sitting across from you, that he would even bother coming here to ask questions – and wouldn’t just take the promotion whilst brushing the name aside. You took the initiative. “So, the question…” you nearly smirked, knowing he’d like this; “…Director, is where do we go from here? Because I think for once, I’m pretty unclear…” Krennic leant closer to you, and you realised you weren’t about to back out of this; “…I don’t know…” His lips hovered over yours; “…But we can start here…” 

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[ghostsray]

(Danny interns for the GIW + Post-reveal + Dissection)

Danny was being followed. Contrary to what some may believe, he wasn't so dumb that he wouldn't notice the white van trailing after him as he walked down the block with Sam and Tucker. He had an idea of who may be driving it, too.

Danny was Phantom. That information became public only a few months ago. It happened during a particularily gruesome fight in which he couldn't keep enough energy to stay in ghost form after letting out a ghostly wail. And since it happened in the middle of a crowded park, everybody saw him transform.

His half-life had been hectic for days after the reveal, between explaining things to his parents and dealing with his newfound popularity in school. But as difficult as it was, soon enough everyone came to accept it. His parents, after apologizing profusely for trying to hunt him, were supportive of his heroic duties. Even his teachers were now understanding when he came in late or skipped his assignments. Everything became easier since the reveal.

Maybe too much easier.

He knew that sooner or later the repercussions would reach him. After all, he was a half-ghost. Any scientist would dream of figuring out his biology; he was lucky that his parents are an exception due to him being their son. That was why he wasn't surprised--was expecting it, actually--to see the GiW following him. (It had to be the GiW; no one else would own a van that suspicious and white.)

He felt a nudge to his side and turned his head to see Sam tilting her head toward the van. So his friends have noticed it, too. With a quick glance at the van, which was still following him, he pulled his friends in to whisper to them.

"Leave," he whispered. "I'll handle them."

Tucker frowned. "You sure?" he mouthed.

Danny nodded. When the other two didn't seem convinced, he rolled his eyes and added, "I'll be fine, I promise."

He was grateful that his friends didn't argue with him. After no more than a second of hesitation, they split off, waving to each other as they walked away. Now that Danny was alone, the white van gained confidence and followed him faster. He let it.

As he passed by a row of buildings, he veered in his path and entered a small alley. Hidden from sight, he let himself transform into his ghost form. Not that he needed to be hidden anymore, but old habits are hard to get rid of, he supposed.

Out on the street, he saw the van park in front of the alley. The door slid open, and a GiW agent stepped out, dressed in a white suit and black shades. An ecto-gun sat at his hips, and the man's hand hovered over it as he entered the alley where Danny was hiding.

He let the agent take a few steps into the alley before he sprang into view, ectoplasmic energy ready in his hands. He blasted at the man's hip, knocking the gun away before he could use it. The man didn't go after it. Instead, he stood staring, his pose stiff and ready, at the ghostly teen floating lazily before him.

"There you are," Danny spoke cheekily, positioning himself so that he looked like he was lying across the air, his head resting on his hands. "Guys in White, right? I was wondering when you'd go after me. Heck, I was starting to think you lost interest! I mean, what's a guy to think when someone ghosts him like that?"

The agent didn't comment on Danny's pun. Instead, he did something the teen didn't expect--raise his hands up in a show of peace. "I'm not here to fight," he said.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Right. And I'll just fly into the van peacefully like an obedient little ghost, so you can dissect me when we get to whatever facility you work at."

"We won't dissect you," the agent assured. "We're here to give you an offer."

Danny's interest was piqued. "An offer?" he asked curiously.

The agent nodded. Danny wasn't sure what he was expecting him to say, but he was definitely surprised when the man said, "We want to hire you."

Actually, he wasn't sure if he heard that right. "You want to what?" he asked.

The agent lowered his hands, and Danny tensed as he prepared for an attack, but it never came. He simply let his hands hang by his sides as he explained. "We are a ghost-capturing organization, and you are the world's leading ghost hunter. It is only logical that we seek your assistance."

He couldn't believe it. Danny wanted to laugh--and he did. He bent over in the air and laughed. "Hold on, let me get this right," he said in between wheezes, "you expect me to not only trust, but work for you? An organization that has tried to hunt and maim me several times?"

The white-clad man managed to keep his stance professional despite the laughing teen in front of him. "That was before we discovered you half-human status," he explained. "If we were to vivisect you now, public opinion would not be kind to experimenting on a living minor. Even if you are only half-alive." He said that last part with some contempt, as if it personally didn't matter to him how much human he was as long as he was part-ghost. It probably didn't.

"Public opinion? I don't think you had any in the first place," Danny responded. The agent didnt reply. As danny's laughter died down and his smile disappeared, he finally stopped and stared at the Guy in White.

He was serious.

The GiW really did want to hire Danny Phantom to their ranks.

"No," Danny said, his voice resolute. "Nope. Nada. Absolutely not." The agent looked like he wanted to speak, but Danny stopped him with a raise of his hand and continued, "You really expect me to forgive you after all those times you wanted to capture me? Yes, I'm part-human, but I'm still part-ghost. And I know for a fact that you guys aren't kind to ghosts. So, thank you for the offer, but no."

Danny turned to leave, still feeling incedulous at the agent's proposal. But before he could disappear, the man spoke up and said, "We'll pay you."

That made Danny pause. He turned back to the agent. "Seriously?"

The agent gave a small nod. Danny frowned. Logically, he knew that didn't change much. The GiW were still a bunch of ghost-torturing, evil maniacs. Surely a few wads of cash shouldn't change his mind.

But... he was in his senior year. He was just a year away from going to college, if he could afford it. The money from his parents' inventions was just enough to keep their family fed and clothed, and only sending jazz to college was a huge strain on their income.

The GiW agent knew that. He must have, because Danny could spot a small smirk making its way onto his otherwise neutral expression. Danny bit his lip and hesitated.

Oh, heck it. Why not?

"How much money are we talking?" he asked.

____

"Tell me you didn't accept."

"...It was a lot of money."

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"Look, not everyone can be rich like you," Danny snapped. Sam winced, and he immediately felt guilty about using her status against her. But he had to make her see. "They offered me a well-paying job that involved something I'm good at, so I took it."

A moment of silence passed between them, which was broken by Tucker speaking up. "Sam has a point. Can't you find any other job?"

"How many jobs do you know of that accept half-dead superheroes that probably attract ghosts?" Danny pointed out.

"...Touché."

"I still don't like this," Sam said, her arms crossed across her chest. "How do you know it's not a trap?"

"If it's a trap, I'll find my way out of it." At the unimpressed look both his friends gave, he rolled his eyes and added, "Fine, I'll wear a Fentonphone so I can call you for help if I need to. Happy?"

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look. After an unsaid conversation between them, they turned back to Danny and spoke in unison to say, "No."

"But," Tucker continued before he could feel disappointed, "we won't stop you, if you think it's good for you."

"And if things do go wrong, at least I'll say 'I told you so'," Sam added with a smirk.

Danny smiled, feeling grateful for his friends. "I'm probably going to regret this decision, aren't I?" he said.

"Probably," Sam agreed.

"Yep," Tucker said.

Danny nodded. "But it was a lot of money."

"How much?" Tucker asked. Danny told him.

"Holy shit that is a lot."

____

Danny felt awkward walking up to the headquarters of the facility that he would have avoided with his existence less than a year prior. The pristine white building loomed before him, inviting him in.

He wasn't sure whether the GiW were expecting him to appear in human form or ghost form, but when his parents found out he was getting a job, they insisted that he dress formally. So now Danny Fenton was walking through the building's entrance wearing a hand-down tie. He was greeted by a burly man, dressed in white (duh), who introduced himself as Agent C.

"Daniel Fenton-Phantom," Agent C greeted.

"Please, just pick one last name," Danny pleaded. "Saying it like that makes it sound like I'm married to myself."

"Mr. Fenton," the man amended, though it still sounded weird to Danny's ears. "We're glad that you accepted our offer." He sounded more emotionless than glad.

"Right. So, how is this gonna work?" Danny asked, fiddling with his tie. "Do I sign in here every day or...?"

"No need," Agent C replied. "Simply continue capturing ghosts as you always do, but bring them to us instead of releasing them into the Ghost Zone."

Danny narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the agent, but his eyes were impossible to see behind his glasses. He furrowed his brows. "What will you do with the ghosts?" he questioned.

"Research," the man said flippantly. "You don't need to know."

"And what if I want to know?"

"Classified."

Danny raised his chin and stared the man down. "Then I won't work for you," he announced. At Agent C's raised eyebrows, he continued, "I don't want to work here unless I know what it is you guys do."

He could see a slight frown appear on Agent C's face as he considered the statement. After a minute passed (Danny had counted), he finally said, "Very well. I suppose we could make an exception. Besides, a tour of a facility won't hurt." He turned and, motioning for Danny to follow, made his way deeper inside.

They made their way through the building, and as they did, they passed several cameras and wall-mounted ecto-guns that seemed to aim at Danny. As was expected, he didn't feel very comforted. Seeing how nervous he was, Agent C told him, "Don't worry. We calibrated the anti-ghost security to make an exception for you." Danny wasn't sure he believed him.

They passed training facilities where Danny saw rookies shoot at ghost-shaped targets (was that one shaped like him?). They passed workshops where ghost weaponry (clearly ripped off from his parents) were being built. They passed a cafeteria that served food as bland and colorless as the agents' suits.

Finally, they entered an elevator and went down.

The first thing Danny was greeted with when the elevator doors opened were countless shelves lining the walls, each holding what looked like knockoff Fenton thermoses. Almost every thermos had a light on to indicate that it was occupied. He frowned at them, and then his eyes widened as the realization seeped into his skull.

"This is where we keep the ghosts we've captured," Agent C explained, confirming Danny's suspicions.

"Really? And you never let them out?"

"Only for experiments," Agent C replied. "We can't risk letting the ghosts escape."

Danny stared at the rows upon rows of thermoses. He knew from experience how uncomfortable it is being held in one of them. He couldn't imagine what it would be like staying inside one all day, every day.

Agent C didn't wait for Danny as he continued down the hall. The halfa tore his eyes away from the thermoses and hesitantly followed. After passing what must have been a dozen shelves, Agent C stopped in front of a door.

"This is where we conduct our experiments."

He stood and waited. For Danny to take a look inside, he guessed. So, he gulped and peeked into the glass pane in the door.

For a second, he thought that he must have landed in a hospital, because it was an operation room. There were surgeons inside wearing white scrubs instead of white three-piece suits. And then he saw it. On the operation table was--

He had to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat.

On the operation table was a ghost, its body cut open to reveal its anatomy inside. Gooey organs and a shining core that seemed dimmer than it should have been. Knives and scalpels were digging into the ectoplasm, letting out green ooze that stained the surgeons' white gloves green.

All the while, the ghost was awake, its eyes wide and its mouth opened in a soundless scream.

The ghost's eyes met Danny's for half a second, and Danny had to look away.

(Had it not been for his identity reveal, that could have been Danny on that table.)

"Well?" Agent C prodded. "Are you still willing to work with us?"

Danny gulped. His throat still felt like it was burning. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to scream no, to declare that he would never work with people like the GiW. But then he stopped and thought. He thought about his parents, about college, about Jazz.

He took a deep breath, and he let it out. Finally, he forced himself to raise his head and stare at Agent C's pitch-black sunglasses.

"Okay," he said, trying his best not to let his voice falter. "Okay. I'll do it."

[malinetesyworld]

A WOMAN AGAINST CORRUPTION

        ‘September 12th’ was the date that marked a very special day in ALICE Rugamba’s life. She had just graduated at the top of her class in the University of Kigali. “I am ready to take on another step in my life” she sighed in satisfaction. As a person, and a FEMALE on a larger extent, this was a tremendous achievement that not only accolades her of her long-term hard work, but also gives her a title in society. However, as one wise man said, ‘sometimes the end is the beginning of a greater journey.’ Alice’s journey had just begun.

Alice came from a very conservative family with values. She was the oldest in a family of six children. Her parents had worked so hard to take her to school, which was not so easy because they had to have a roof over their heads, food on the table and most importantly her younger siblings had to acquire education too. Mr. and Mrs. Rugamba never gave up despite the hardship. Blood and sweat they worked tirelessly to take their children to school because they knew the value of education. However, there is time for everything. As for now, Mr. and Mrs. Rugamba were getting outstripped and retired.

This was Alice’s chance to find a way of earning in order to fulfill the responsibilities that awaited her. She had to take over. Her first step was to get a job. “Not a big deal. I have all my papers and qualifications” she told herself.  What she didn’t know were complications and obstacles that lurked within the competitive society of corruption and Cynicism. But Alice knew she could handle it. She was a strong educated woman with a big circle. In fact, she remembered ‘Uncle’ John right away.  John was a man who had always been fond of Alice. He had promised her a job the minute she completed her university.

The next day John was pleased to see Alice in his office. “I heard you completed your education. You are a mature woman now” he says to Alice with a smirk on his face. ‘Uncle’ John (as he had asked Alice to call him although he is not her real uncle had a high rank in the organization he was working with.

Therefore, he had the power. “Now, this job I am about to offer you comes with some small…mini...errm CONDITIONS” Mr. John said with his eyes landing on Alice’s bare chest accidentally. Alice was puzzled and confused but she kept on listening keenly. He went on to tell her that all he wanted was a little SEXUAL FAVOR ‘on a regular basis” that’s all.  In return, she would never get fired. “Instead, you will be getting promotions, and my personal rewards of cause and no one would suspect anything. Trust me” Mr. John told her.

Alice’s face froze and she could even literally feel her stock upset from hearing this. At first, she hesitated but wild thoughts started running in her mind. She really needed this job. Mr. John cut in her thoughts “You don’t have to agree now. Just think about it. And remember, you need this job. I am offering you a good opportunity and you will never get anywhere else. Things are tough out here. Do you know how many jobless people are out there sitting on their Diplomas? When you’ve made up your mind, you can start on Monday”

The following week on Monday, Mr. John was surprised at the same time contented to see Alice at work. Although she did not say anything to him, the fact that she had came meant that she had agreed to his terms. But Alice had a plan.

On the first day, Alice was introduced to her colleagues and showed around on a personal level by the one and only Mr. John. It had been a few weeks since she started working and Alice was doing her job very well. Her co-workers were inspired by her and she had surely made great friends out of them too. She was settled until one day, things started getting queer. It started off with cunning and devouring eyes on her body. Then followed by the brushing on her knees when seated and the next thing she knew were spanks on her behind whenever she took files in his office. 

Mr. John was SEXUALLY HARASSING her because she never enjoyed any of that. “You seem to have forgotten our agreement A lice” Mr. john told her one day as she snatched herself out of his arms in anger. Alice could not look at him let alone responding. That day she went home early from work.

Alice had to remind herself of who she was and what she stood for as a woman in society. Her definition is a strong, educated woman with core values. Not a play toy. How can she let herself be misused and mistreated by lusting men? She had to be an example to her younger siblings and other women. Alice realized that not only does this form of corruption degrades women, it puts them in the vulnerability state, it stands in their full self achievements, hinders their access to leadership, economic rights and on top of that, creates psychological disturbance.

Doing what is right was all she needed to do. This way, she had to come clean about what was going on. Open the minds of her female co-workers on the issue in order to get their full support and get tangible proof of this case so that she can report it. “I CAN’T GIVE UP NOW!” she said out loud on top of her lungs.

At first, she got challenged and discouraged. When she turned to her close female co-workers, they laughed and explained that all women who complain about sexual harassment in that workplace are either fired or they resign and even get hard times finding a new job. Most of them admitted that they have all given ‘the favors’ one way or another to be where they were and that they didn’t want to ruin everything by reporting these men. So they chose to be silent.

 When Alice tried to talk to close friends and family, she got even more discouraged. “How can you file a complaint with such an embarrassing thing? You are going to spoil your self-image. After all, nobody will believe that you did not play any part in it” They said. This did not stop her. “My parents never raised me to give up” she motivated herself.

 That night, she couldn’t sleep. How was she going to take down Mr. John? She did her research on issues like this in hope of getting ways to tackle her own. She then went to different departments, organizations, and other standings focused on combating against corruption.

Whenever she got a chance she asked anyone for any knowledge and information based on sexual harassment in work places and corruption relevant to this issue. Doing this, she gained more understanding about women rights, regulations and their support. This gave Alice the motivation she needed. Then she was off to a great start.

Indeed, Alice was successful in her journey!  She filled a report (along with some proof she had collected) to all the organizations in charge of fighting corruption especially those based on women sexuality. Their administration were quick to respond to her case and with enough follow up Mr. John along with his other office men were found guilty.

They were imprisoned according to the law no. 54/2018 of 13/08/2018 against corruption that states ‘…or any person who uses personal gains, the staff other his or her authority commits an offense. Upon conviction he/she is liable to imprisonment for a term not less than 7 years but no more than 10 years.’ As for Alice, her Journey was not over. She got more and more opportunities.

Did you know that According to Transparency international organization-Rwanda, gender-based corruption is one of the most popular forms of corruption in Rwanda with 84.5% particularly those in search for jobs?  Gender-based corruption exists in private companies (51.4%) and in public ones (43.1%).The perpetrators are mostly men with 83.2%

 My sisters, SOMETIMES IT’S NOT ABOUT MONEY. IT’S ABOUT JUSTICE!

 ~Maline Tesy~

[wordtotherose]

Ahh, thank you kindly for your reply. =) Truly, I appreciate the reassurance. It is only that as mentioned, there a couple scenes I would dearly love to see. I found myself wondering -- when Crowley volunteers to take Aziraphale's job in Edinburgh -- how Crowley would go about blessing someone, and how it would work? (Crowley being mistaken for a priest would be doubly funny!) But I also wonder how Aziraphale might go about blessing someone? May I ask for a fic on this, please? Thank you!

Hiya! Here it is! I hope you enjoy, thank you so much for the prompt! :D 

1 - Edinburgh

“Toss you for Edinburgh.”

“Fine. Heads.”

The coin turns in the air and for a millisecond Crowley considers cheating, he doesn’t particularly mind Edinburgh after all and he knows Aziraphale is having a swell time lately hanging around Shakespeare. The journey up there is by far the hardest part of the job. He claps the coin down onto his hand and uncovers it so Aziraphale can see too.

“Heads. Looks like I’m off to Scotland.”

Aziraphale’s smile is worth it.

***

He stays for the end of the play, whispering into Aziraphale’s ear quippy comments about the performance. It doesn’t escape his notice that Shakespeare has edged closer to them again and is squibbling down on his parchment. He makes a point to make Aziraphale laugh in the gloomy parts of the play, earning dangerous looks from Burbage on stage. If Shakespeare overhears his jokes he is more than welcome to use them, the comedic plays are always better than the tragedies, in his opinion.

When it’s over, Aziraphale has to be dragged out of the Globe because he keeps making himself look like an idiot as he compliments Burbage and Shakespeare profusely. He’s getting funny looks from the spattering of other play watchers. Crowley also hasn’t eaten lunch and could do with something filling. Alcoholic too, just to take the edge off the annoyance at having to ride a horse all the way up north. It’s another half hour before they leave in the end. Turns out he still can’t help indulging the angel.

He gets the rundown on what Heaven wants Aziraphale to do and then they spend the rest of their meal arguing over the finer points of having so many soliloquies in a play and what counts as appropriate audience participation. Crowley steadfastly argues against shouting ‘buck up’ at the actors.

***

He gets to Scotland and makes a mental reminder to find a carriage or something to go home in because there’s no way in Heaven or Hell that he’s taking the trip again by horse.

***

Of course Aziraphale’s blessing has to do with rewarding a long-time church-goer for their faith which means the only time he knows they’ll be about it is when they’re leaving church on a Sunday morning. So he loiters and lurks outside the church until the session is over. He gets his fair share of funny looks, what with the tinted glasses, but encourages them to forget they’d seen anything easily enough. It takes a while but eventually the doors open again and he perks up from the bench he’d been lounging on and strides across the square to sift the intended woman out from the crowd. It’s a minor shock when he sees the child in her arms. A little girl. She looks deathly pale.

“Madam Stuart?” He asks when he’s in range, standing confidently and trying to exude the sense that she can trust him. He’s also trying to smile at the kid who just blearily looks through him. 

“Miss Stuart, Sir. Are you a priest? I heard a new priest was coming in from out of town.” 

Crowley looks down at his dark clothes. Then back up at her. Then down again, then at the woman’s eyes, trying to figure out if his ‘sense of trust’ has actually made him appear all holy and proper to her. She doesn’t wither under his gaze or do anything more than adjust the child in her arms. He shrugs internally; it makes things easier. And gives him something to bitch about to Aziraphale later.

“Sure. That’s me. The travelling priest... Would you follow me please?”

It’s really a testament to humanity’s stupidly trustful nature that Miss Stuart just nods and follows Crowley through the streets to loop round to a small grassy area, a couple trees. Almost a park. Empty, perfect for a quick blessing and minor miracle. Only. The minor miracle, Aziraphale had told him, was due for Miss Stuart which didn’t make sense when she wasn’t the one who was ill. Why reveal his wings to her to reinforce her faith in this difficult time when he could just heal the kid? Surely that was both more Good and more practical. It’s like Heaven wants the kid to die and for her to return to her faith during...during the grief…

Crowley stops under a tree and spins to face the woman who looks a little startled at their sudden stop. She squints up at him, trusting. So trusting. What was with humans and trusting people they don’t know just on their word? So foolish. He runs a hand through his hair and holds a hand out. She hesitates before taking it. She’s cold. Not surprising. Calloused fingers. She works then.

“Miss Stuart, I am on a mission to help you in this difficult time. Will you accept my blessing of good will?” He goes through the rote message, he could do it from afar but he likes to give them the option to refuse. 

Something falls in disappointment in her eyes but she nods. 

He digs into his power and uses part of his focus to try and mimic the soft, chilly feel of Aziraphale’s divinity when invoking the ‘blessing’. She’ll have some good luck for the rest of the year. But she isn’t technically blessed. He can’t actually do that. But the results are the same. Mostly.

“I- Pardon me for asking, Sir, but could you also give your blessing to my daughter? She is ill, you see, and they say there is no cure,” her voice trails away and Crowley can’t help the pang of anger in his chest. 

Kids. What is it with Heaven and not caring about kids?

“Of course, can I hold her hand?” 

The kid blinks up at him, a little spark of awareness resurfacing as he holds her small fingers in his. She’s feverish. Skin clammy and it makes Crowley feel sick himself. That Aziraphale was meant to be the one doing this. That, if the coin flip had gone a different way, he’d have sent Aziraphale to do this. And for all Aziraphale is sweet and compassionate and as in love with humanity as Crowley is, he knows deep down that Aziraphale wouldn’t have done what he’s about to. He wouldn’t have enjoyed leaving this child to die, but he’d have still done it. Faith in Heaven’s orders ranking higher than his personal moral qualms. 

Crowley shakes his head and squeezes the girl’s hand comfortingly. He isn’t going to leave her behind to this fate. 

***

2 - London

“Crowley, my dear. I really must get going now,” Aziraphale says, shuffling on the sofa he’s sitting on. 

Crowley is currently settled in his lap, heavy and soaking up the angel’s warmth. He doesn’t move. “Take me with you,” he rasps. 

“Crowley I cannot take a snake with me to do a blessing. They’ll get all flighty when they see you and if I don’t do this blessing I’ll get another note.” Aziraphale says all this in his ‘I mean it this time, you wily demon’ voice but also continues to stroke down Crowley’s scales. 

“Not moving, angel.”

They pause at this stand-off. Neither of them willing to budge until eventually Aziraphale huffs. He gathers Crowley up in his hands and drapes him, ignoring his hissed protests, onto his shoulders. Crowley readjusts, looping round to stop from sliding off and drops his head next to the angel’s neck. He flicks his tongue out to tickle Aziraphale.

“Who we blessing?” He asks as they leave the bookshop.

Aziraphale is gaining a fair few strange looks but they’ve only just started talking again after the holy water argument and Crowley isn’t willing to let go. It’s new now. Just ever so slightly different. That moment in the car had confirmed things for both of them and now they were readjusting, making the best of it as they can. It’s scary and thrilling and very freeing. 

“Just a quick in and out one at the homeless shelter. Teenager needs some unconditional love and faith and all that.” 

The weather’s not too bad, for London, but it’s chilly enough that Crowley goes through the complicated motions of burrowing under Aziraphale’s coat, popping his head out where he’d been before just this time under a layer of warmth. Lovely.

“You gonna talk to ‘em or just wave your fingers through the window?”

“Dream this time, I think.”

“If they’re not already asleep I’ll tempt them to a nap for you.” 

Aziraphale’s smile is obvious in the way his walk bounces a little. Crowley holds on a bit tighter. “Oh, thank you, my dear. That’s very sweet of you.”

“Eh, don’t shout it.”

“I do wonder how many people like them are out there, you know. So many people I could be helping...”

“Help too many and you’ll get reprimanded,” Crowley reminds him as they turn a corner. 

Aziraphale sighs. “I know but it just doesn’t seem fair. I’m allowed to reaffirm her faith and all but I could do so much more. She hates her body, Crowley, and I could change that! I could give her the body she wants but--”

“But you’d be in trouble. So would she. You know how humans are, they’d poke and prod her instead of leaving her alone to live her life. You don’t want to give her that.”

Another sigh. Crowley tickles his neck again, less in an attempt to make him laugh this time and more to try and comfort. “I’m sorry, angel.”

***

3 - Earth, Somewhere

It’s early days in their...acquaintanceship and they’re wandering around a desert. Just because they were both going the same way, towards a town where they’ve been assigned some odds and ends jobs. A couple blessings. A couple temptations. It’s still new and they’re feeling things out. Slowly. Carefully. 

They’re having a small debate over nothing really when Crowley pauses, wrinkling his nose. Aziraphale stops a step later and turns to face him, already asking what’s wrong but Crowley’s focused on the strange feeling building up. He waves away Aziraphale’s lifted hand that had been reaching for his arm and takes a step back. 

Then he sneezes.

Aziraphale cracks up laughing at Crowley’s expression but still gets out a quiet ‘bless you’ because he does have some manners still. Crowley’s terrified expression, morphing from his disgusted confusion, is more than enough to instantly sober Aziraphale up. 

“What did you just say?” Crowley asks, eyes darting across Aziraphale and looking for all the world like he expects himself to spontaneously combust. “Angel, did you just? Really?”

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry! It’s not a real blessing, I promise.” Crowley’s terror eases a little with the reassurances but he’s still shifting his weight around. “My dear, I promise. I haven’t actually blessed you. You’re okay. It’s just a polite phrase.”

“Stupid phrase more like. What if you’d actually meant it? Who invented that, seriously.” Crowley shakes his head but starts walking again. “What were you saying about grapes, angel?”

And they continued on. Blissfully unaware of the tiny aura of luck that was following after Crowley like a shadow.

[edwardslostalchemy]

My big 3 of 1a would be Izuku Momo & Iida cause we all know Izuku is powerful af and will ultimately be number 1 one day Momo is intelligent quickwitted and well rounded plus has the most versatile quirk and Iida is very intelligent and a natural leader don't think Bakugou should be in big 3 cause of his nasty attitude and only cares about winning Shouto just wanted to be top to prove to his father so even though he'd push himself I think he'd focus more on teamwork from now on instead of stats

YEAH I AGREE WITH YOU SO MUCH NONY THIS IS SO VALID. I want Momo to be part of the big three as well1!!! She totally deserves it because she’s working really hard and improving!!!! Plus, she can apply her skills anywhere. Look at how she was analytical during the hideout raid and during the entire entrance exam. She outgeniused a genius!!! Whose quirk was to be a literal genius!!! If Momo could learn martial arts or hand-to-hand combat, get herself some neato support items, maybe a suit that isn’t so revealing and is still functional, and gains more self-confidence, which she is improving on because she is getting there!! I believe in her!! Then she can be part of the big 3. She’d EARN her spot! 

I totally agree with Tenya being part of the big 3, too!! He’s also been improving so much and is becoming more selfless and learning what it means to be a hero and he has his own ideals. Plus his quirk is really amazing! 

I don’t even need to talk about Izuku, BUT I WILL because that boy deserves the absolute WORLD and he is doing everything he can to be the best and gain control of his quirks. He’s come SO FAR in life up til this point and I am SO PROUD of him. He’s doing amazing and I love him. 

I love Shouto. He is my favorite character (besides Izuku) and I’d die for him. I personally would love it if he were part of the big 3 as well, but my personal headcanon is that he doesn’t care about rank anymore. He is improving to be a better hero so he can do his job because he wants to help people and defend them because he himself has the means to do so. That’s what his ideals are. It’s a hero’s job to save people. That’s his image of a hero and that’s what he’s aspiring to be. He wants to be the type of hero that makes people feel safe with his presence. I see him wanting to improve and learn from his father. Strength = power and power gives you opportunity. Shouto is using this opportunity and his power to gain wisdom and knowledge to HELP people, not to reach the top spot. I think he has the potential to be a top ranking hero. He’s got the face and the quirk for it. And trust me, he will be very popular because of his looks alone. He will be popular because of his quirks alone. ANd he will be popular because of his relationship to endeavor. He’s smart, he has the skills and the potential, and he has the drive. I just can’t see him aiming for the top anymore. And it’s okay to not aim for the top spot. There’s nothing wrong with just doing your job. He’s not settling. I hate that correlation between not wanting to be the best and settling for what you have. I love All Might and he means well and his words are motivating for IZUKU, who WANTS to be the BEST, but I don’t see them applied to Shouto. Shouto is working with what he has and will do what he can to save others. It would make my whole life if he gets to be the hero he wants to become. I sound like a mother right now: do what makes you happy, not what others expect of you!!! 

Sorry, i know you were talking about other characters, but I had to give my 2 cents on Shouto. 

Also, I totally agree. Nerf Katsuki in the face. DON’T make him part of the big 3. His attitude is just so ugh and even though he’s smart and talented, I can’t see him being a top 10 hero if he’s this vocal of an asshole. Now I know, how did endeavor become #2 if he and Katsuki are similar? endeavor kinda contains his private life and he only shows his face, not his family life or anything related to his life. He’s very reserved. Katsuki will yell in your face. Idk...how do heroes get ranked anyway? I had the impression they’re voted by the public and also the public safety commission? Kinda like eurovision now lmfao. Even though Katsuki would probably resolve a lot of cases, and big cases because he’d want the spotlight, he would probably be like top ranked, but not #1. He’s not charismatic. He’s very volatile. I’m even scared for him interacting with people. Look at how he yelled at the kids when he was interning with Best Jeanist. He’s going to learn, but man he’s not gonna be great at it. I doubt he’ll be #1. Unpopular opinion: I don’t want him to be #1. Let his ego take a huge hit. I don’t care about this wonder duo and him doing the whole fight to save and save to win, it just feels so...forced to me imo? Like Idk maybe i’m missing the point I guess. ANd I went off topic again, but anyways yeah, Katsuki not being part of the big 3 is a galaxy brain mood, send tweet.