#it does not work and he still manages to annoy her regardless

[voiice-of-the-soul]

most people are not brave enough to ship medic with the administrator. i am not those people though.

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[antiquarianfics]

The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

[a-libra-writes]

Ok you did rocky and nico but what about Mordecai with widow reader with three kittens? (bonus if you include aunty Serafine and uncle nico)ps I love your writing!

This one is a bit different from the other widow-with-kiddo asks but I hope its still to ur liking ~

Firstly! Regardless if you're working the Marigold Room as a bartender or musician, or you're in the gang directly, the kittens are often at the hotel. The staff knows them, the managers don't mind because they stay away from guests, other gang members are familiar with them and make sure they stay outta trouble. The hotel's back rooms and staff quarters are like an endless maze to the kiddos, and they know the whole place like the back of their hands. ... Kinda.

Not to mention how they're doted on by everyone - Asa gives them candies, Nico tosses them high in the air, Serafine is kind of scary but she gave them these funny bracelets (made of bones??? but theyre funny and she's pretty so it's okay!), various hotel staff cooing over how cute and well-behaved they are.

And then there's Mordecai. He's pretty scary to adults, let alone kids. When he sees them skittering around in the peripheral of his vision, he has to frown even more. Who let these wayward children in here? He hears them running about the halls and empty offices while he's trying to do accounting. And as much as Mordecai wants nothing to do with them, he's a figure of great interest to your kittens. Someone who isn't cooing over them? Whose in an office way in the back, only one light on? The one who follows Mr. Sweet and dresses in all black? Their little imaginations run wild, even if you've plainly told them that "Mr. Heller" is your colleague and to leave him be.

The oldest one approaches him first. Which is to say, she lingers behind the doorway, peeking in and thinking he can't see her tail and ears sticking out. He hears the younger ones shushing each other. As much as Mordecai wants to be annoyed, instead, a painful deja vu comes over him. Your oldest finally patters in with a nervous "Mr. Heller?". Before he can ask what she wants, she plops a candy on his desk and runs off, the other kittens right behind her.

As much as the shadowy cat doesn't want the trio bothering him, he's torn about them being so fearful of him. All three of them stir up painful familiar memories of his sisters, but the youngest especially reminds Mordecai of Rose. He tries not to think of how old she and Eshter are now, if they miss him the way your kittens miss you when you're away. It's hard for him to keep up his cold exterior when those painful memories bubble up to the surface.

So when the oldest comes by his desk, he finally sighs and says with a frown, "All three of you, just come in and show me what it is." And the other two shuffle in, with their big eyes and hand-me-down clothes and it's just. Very difficult not to dismiss them.

The two youngest have decided he's their "secret friend", even if you were well aware of how they liked to pester your overly serious colleague. You'll watch your girls draw him alongside other people they know (why does he always look so shadowy and sketchy, even in crayon form?) but you don't know they like sneaking their drawings into his satchel or desk drawers. They'll leave wrapped candies and pretty strings and buttons too, to his exasperation. Eventually Mordecai walks over to you and drops a handful of the little treasures at your table.

"Gee, Mordecai, I'm flattered. You know what a guy/gal likes."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm returning what your snooping progeny keep leaving me. Tell them to stay out of my things."

"Looks to me like they're trying to add some color to that depressing office you hole up in."

And so on, and so forth, you two really like to bicker, don't you?

(Oh, and Mordecai starts keeping the door shut and locking it, but then he hears giggles and sees them shoving the pictures and little things under the doorway.)

Now they aren't afraid of him at all, which means they want to run about Mordecai and get his attention. They'll giggle as they dart between his legs or "hide" under his coat. Their fur gets all over his black clothes. When they inevitably tumble and fall, he picks them up by the collar or under the arms and scolds them for running indoors. And he yanks them down when they get too rowdy and climb up furniture, or sometimes he finds the youngest one crying because she got lost and takes her back. If he catches any of the kittens with an unlaced boot or messy face, he stops them immediately.

"Stop! Lace up your boots immediately. You'll trip and crack your skull open. Don't run in the hotel lobby, either. This is an establishment, not a wild jungle you can traipse about in - keep still, what is on your face? Is that - syrup? Did you not think to wash your hands and face after - no, there will be no giggling about breaches of hygiene -"

(A few people are staring as Mordecai fusses over her, which he doesn't notice until a woman walks by and says, "oh, it's so hard at this age, isn't it? Don't worry, you're doing great." And he dies a little a lot inside).

He tried doing these things in secret, but inevitably one of the Savoys or Asa or you would spot him, and the youngest one loves prattling on about him. Asa, Nico and Serafine find "Nanny Heller" to be hysterical. He's going to throttle someone or plan a murder swear to god-

There's been several moments when you hear a high-pitched squeal that sounds like a scream, and you run over in a panic ... and oh, it's just Nico dangling one of the kittens upside down and pretending to lose his grip. False alarm - wait, why is Mordecai here too?

If you're a triggerman with the gang, it means you're keeping all sorts of odd hours. You've been with them for years and you're more than useful, so having the children set up in an empty office isn't looked twice at. They've got their bedding, some books and toys, and ... sometimes they're sleeping there more than they sleep at home, which you aren't proud of. It's not just the cost of childcare, but the odd hours and questions being asked about your job, especially if you're a woman.

The first time Mordecai came across this office was by accident, but he knew the children had to be staying somewhere. He walked up very quietly, and looking through the open doorway, saw the oldest doing her homework at the big desk while her two siblings slept under it, curled up with their pillows and blankets and stuffed toys. He didn't think he'd be affected so strongly, but it was painful. A very, very painful reminder, and maybe he saw himself a little too much in that girl, furrowing her brow and making sense of numbers.

You and Mordecai have had strange arguments about the the children, which was odd at first. You wondered why the so-called unfeeling triggerman cared at all. If he felt you were being too reckless during a job, he'd tell you as much, but there was more bite in his voice. He never outright said 'you have others depending on you', but it was in his tone. Many times you felt judged, or looked down upon - but a lot of these fights weren't about you specifically. It was the situation that upset him, the lengths one had to go to keep their family fed and safe in a clean environment. He was definitively projecting, and not always aware of it, or just in denial about it. Mordecai tried not to dwell on his own mother and sisters: what they felt when he didn't come home one day, when they read that letter explaining where all the money was hidden, when the realization sunk in for Eshter and Rose that their brother wasn't coming back. If they were sad, or angry, or resigned, or didn't think of him at all anymore. Or maybe they'd resent him forever.

Look he really doesnt want to be thinking about these things -

After long jobs, you'd wash the blood off and change shirts and tiredly walk all the way to the back rooms where your kittens were sleeping. Sometimes you stir the oldest awake so she can help you carry the other two to the car, but honestly, the only apartment a single parent with three children can get is pretty shit. So most times you just curl up on the floor with them, catching a few hours of sleep before you need to wake up the oldest for school.

You hold her hand as you walk through the back rooms and out the staff exit. Sometimes Mordecai sees you. You wear the same tired but persevering expression as his mother did, looking a mess compared to your well-put together daughter. He knows she washed up and dressed herself, and packed her own bookbag. She has that look of responsibility and eyes that are a little too old, and it's too familiar, so he looks away.

(Sometimes the oldest finds an extra sandwich in her bookbag, or new pencils and one time, a new pair of mittens. She feels like it's magic, so she doesn't want to tell anyone, otherwise the magic will 'break'.)

You and Mordecai already have a very strange relationship (can you call each other friends yet? You'd consider him that, or something more, but his feelings are something else entirely), and your kiddos would certainly add another layer of strangeness onto it. You might actually get to know him a little faster and closer than most do, or at least see a side that most people have never seen or even considered him capable of.

[vesuvianhermitcrabs]

The Arcana M6 Getting Ready For Bed

AN: because I'm sleepy AND alone, and it's late so no judgement lol

Asra

This man will sleep anywhere, any time.

His before-sleep routine is usually just shedding a few layers of clothing (I mean boots and jackets and stuff you perverse neanderthals) and then cramming himself into a space that he deems comfortable

Hair care? Pbbffftt, no, he doesn't do that, MC (how do you think he maintains hair that fluffy, of course he has a hair care routine)

After their hair care they tend to grab the nearest object and snuggle it before they sleep

Guess what the nearest object usually is

BINGO, it's you

Nadia

Bedtime preparation with Nadia usually means working through an extensive list of self care requirements

If you want to sit with her while she nourishes and brushes her hair, and bathes, and brushes her teeth, and moisturizes, and washes her face, and waxes her legs, and exfoliates, and does nightly stretches, and changes into her nightdress, she'll definitely appreciate your efforts. You'll recieve a smooch on the forehead or something

You cannot fathom how Nadia manages to keep up with all her nightly routines

Julian

Bitch you thought he was going to bed?

The bedtime routine with Julian is often just him refusing to sleep for longer than he should, and then you needing to haul his bony ass into bed

Other times, you end up lounging around with him while he works, head in his lap. This is more bedtime prep for you (because he won't rest at all), especially when you can't fall asleep. The sound of his quill on paper is insanely therapeutic

And other times, he gets blackout drunk and his bedtime routine is sobbing into the bar table before letting out the most horrendous gut wrenching snore

Muriel

Originally, Muriel's bedtime prep was literally just him laying down on the ground (either fully dressed or completely not) and shutting his eyes

Nowadays it's still a little basic, but it's a lot more healthy than what it used to be

He usually just puts his hair up, brushes his teeth and crashes in the bed. The clothing thing doesn't really apply anymore because he sleeps in a bed and shoes + bed = sin. Oh, and also he doesn't want to sleep in his panties with you around /hj

It's worth mentioning that if you buy him pajamas he will wear them, regardless of what they look like. You shouldn't abuse this, of course. Buuuut if you wanted to buy him an otter onesie–

Inanna will make fun of him for the onesie for the rest of her life

Portia

Portia is very consistent, that's for sure

Her nightly bath is very much needed, more so in the warmer months, as she is super busy throughout the day

Your bathroom always smells nice

When you're in town you end up buying her soothing smelling soaps and shampoos and all that

Asks you to heat the water beforehand (then every night, without fail, asks you if you want to join)

Then she gets dressed, does basic hygiene things, and crawls into bed with you, immediately falling asleep

Lucio

Much like Nadia, he also engages in extensive self-care before bed

Or at least he USED TO. Damn you, nomadic lifestyle

His skincare routine has gone from twenty-eight steps to only twelve, and it devastates him, like an immense amount

It still takes him an annoying amount of time to get ready for bed, but you can't imagine what it used to be like

He always waits for you to be laying down before he takes his heels off (he's worried about seeming short)

"MC, is my hairline receding?"

You regret buying him a pocket mirror as he will not shut up now

[teecupangel]

*chants* CAPYBARA DESMOND MILES! CAPYBARA DESMOND MILES!

Look at that little face:

They would probably first see Desmond somewhere with a body of water.

For Ratonhnhaké:ton, it would be when he first sees Aquila. He would be walking back to the manor and find Desmond following him. He’s never seen a capybara before but it seemed friendly enough and had went on his hind legs, raising his front legs as if to ask for Ratonhnhaké:ton to pick him up. Ratonhnhaké:ton does and he brings him to Achilles who admits to not knowing what Desmond is, only that ‘it’ usually stays inside the wreckage of the Aquila. Faulkner would probably have more information so Achilles suggested that Ratonhnhaké:ton talk to him (but also to not get distracted by the ‘rodent’, cue Desmond glaring at him) but Faulkner only knows as much as Achilles as the ‘thing’ appeared one day and never left until he followed Ratonhnhaké:ton anyway. At least, Faulkner was able to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton what Desmond likes to eat. Desmond spends most of his time in the manor and served more as a companion to Achilles who always gives him something to eat whenever Ratonhnhaké:ton is gone.

For Ezio, Desmond would actually be a gift from Machiavelli. A strange gift with Machiavelli saying “He reminds me of you” which Ezio and Desmond still aren’t sure if it’s meant to be a complement or not. Regardless, Desmond becomes the unofficial mascot of the Italian Brotherhood and is super spoiled by the other recruits. Claudia also teases her brother that Desmond (and Ezio didn’t know why he named the animal Desmond, it just seemed right) is the only child that Ezio would accept officially. It’s all said in jest as Ezio has no idea if he has any illegitimate children running around. (Claudia doesn’t believe it, Ezio is more on the fence, Machiavelli says the only way Ezio wouldn’t have any unknown children is if he can’t have children at all). So Desmond is treated like the mentor’s child more than pet and everyone spoils on him. Then Leonardo meets him and… Desmond began to appear in Leonardo Da Vinci’s works and sketches.

Altaïr would meet Desmond during his travels to one of his mission. A small pond or lake that he stopped by to let the horse rest. Altaïr would find Desmond flopping around the bank and they would stare at each other for a moment before Altaïr would turn around to ignore him. Desmond would probably be offended and ‘run’ after him, his feet making wet squishy sounds against the ground. Desmond would grab hold of the reins of Altaïr’s horse or maybe his robes and wouldn’t let go. Altaïr has no time to deal with this kind of tomfoolery but he couldn’t just kill this creature since it wasn’t dangerous. Annoying, sure. But innocent nonetheless. ……… and that is how… Altaïr finally manages to turn Malik speechless when he brings the creature with him to the bureau, letting the creature rest in his arms. Oh. And the creature waved at Malik and Malik was simply too confused that he instinctively waved back.

[multifandomimagin3s]

Chaotic Co-Worker

Requested by Anon

Summary: Reader is a Spider-Person, and is best friends with Deadpool.

Idk what this is. But anyways, I'm alive. Hope you guys enjoy.

Miguel O'Hara

Both you and Wade give this man chronic, back-to-back migraines.

As soon as Wade somehow manages to get to the Spider-Society HQ ((*cough cough* he snuck in through a portal with you)), Miguel can't get five minutes to himself.

Miguel's been around the Multiverse, so he's probably encountered various Deadpool variants on his travels - and he claims that none of them were anywhere near as annoying as the one that you happen to be best friends with.

He basically just treats Wade like he treats Hobie - actively trying to ignore him and not lose his shit.

It only works 30% of the time.

Regardless of how many times he literally kicks Wade out, he always finds his way back in.

God help him if Wade ever gets it into his head that Miguel has a crush or something on you - I mean, you're Wade's best friend and probably would get up to some shenanigans with him... and you haven't been fired? Suspicious.

He would probably ask Miguel if there's a 'casting couch' involved when he does his 'interviews' for joining the Spider Society.

And he'd probably try to grab his ass.

Peter B. Parker

I think he would find Wade's antics funny, until he's on the receiving end.

Tries not to laugh when Wade's clearly pushing Miguel's buttons on purpose, but as soon as Peter starts being called Spider-DILF, he doesn't know whether to be flattered or weirded out. Or both.

Doesn't know whether Wade can be trusted around Mayday or not - I mean, Wade's not a bad guy and usually has the best intentions, but I can just see Mayday picking up some of his coarse language after hanging around him.

Probably would be as confused as Miguel when Wade keeps popping up out of nowhere - like, how tf does he keep coming back??

But all-in-all, I don't think he would really mind that much about Wade being there.

I mean, I'm pretty sure Miguel hired Kaine. So it takes a lot to shake Peter B.

Ben Reilly

Ben would instantly get annoyed when Wade mocks his broodiness.

And Wade being Wade, the fact that he got a reaction out of Ben would just fuel him more.

"Emo Ken Doll" is his new name.

I think that Wade's more brutal way of doing things would kind of pique his interest though - not that Ben would admit it since he'd still probably be annoyed at being the butt of his jokes.

It would also make him more interested in you by proxy - whether you're secretly similarly natured to Wade, or if you're complete opposites.

You'd know this, of course, because of his monologuing.

Ben: Deadpool is brutal. But he's their best friend. Hm, thinking.

Spider Noir

I think it would be 50:50 as to whether he and Deadpool would actually get along, at all.

On one hand, he'd get annoyed when Wade insults him - especially when Wade called him Nicholas Cage, despite neither Noir nor you knowing who he was on about.

But on the other hand - Noir canonically likes punching Nazis and isn't opposed to violence, so him and Wade would probably find some common ground there.

Since the Deadpool from the movies lost Vanessa, but did everything he could to protect her, I think Noir would sympathise with that - he's from the 1930's, so those old-fashioned ways of looking after your partner really resonate with him a lot.

Basically, Noir would either hate him, or they would be the most unconventional friends that you'd ever see.

Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot

**[Contains some spoilers]**

Okay, so depending on which version of the Spot that you two encounter, really determines his reaction.

If it's Jonathan, or the initial version of the Spot we meet in ASTV, he's arguably more tame in his reaction - I mean, you're a Spider-person, so he's going to be annoyed straight away.

And Wade would most likely give him some verbal taunting and 'mild' abuse.

He'd just be like >:( ... well, he doesn't actually have a face so it would just be a squished 'O'.

But if you two were to encounter him after he went to the collider in Mumbatan...

If it's one of those BookTok scenarios where he secretly likes you, then you'll probably be fine...

But he realistically would try to kill you. And Wade... and would be equal parts fascinated and annoyed when he can't kill him due to his healing factor.

[rynnaissance]

ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can���t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can we have reader who has the "gift" of changing the weather with their emotions x TADC ? (Either platonic or romantic, I don't mind! ^^) Like- they can go from sunny days and rainbows everyone and if they get upset the weather suddenly changes into cloudy day with a few thundering here and there, there's probably rain too but it depends on what made you upset lol

Kinger, Pomni, Ragatha, and Zooble x reader who can manipulate the weather through their feelings

still limiting the number of characters per post since im still not mentally where i need to be in order to... do full casts(?) </3 more than willing to do the rest in a second post if you want, though WOOOOO admin managed to fall asleep early last night and now im up early, nature is healing!! im finally out of my "can only sleep for a few hours until 12am then be unable to sleep for the following 8 and then spending the day sleeping" cycle melatonin gummies aint shit!/j

POMNI:

will jump if you ever get angry enough to summon some lightning bolts. as mean as it sounds i think she would put some space between the two of you if you're setting loose the aforementioned lightning before or raining everywhere. but that might work out if youre the kind of person who needs some time alone to calm down- she will apologize for giving you some space, i hope you can understand that she doesnt want to be electrocuted </3 but it does offer up a reason for you two to work together to find a system to better regulate yourself, and i think pomni might just be one of your biggest supporters during that!

RAGATHA:

probably has made you a custom/personalized umbrella so you have at least some level of protection against your own rain or even from your own sun rays (eyes!! your eyes!!).. really put her all in making it for you, anything you'd ever want in an umbrella is there. okay jokes aside, i think she would be really good at calming you down enough to quell your storm clouds, and enough for you to recollect yourself enough to calmly communicate your feelings out; she probably lets you hang out in her room once everything is under control (she has lots of stuff in there, doesnt want it to get rained on or zapped)(understandably)

KINGER:

Probably jumps when your little storm cloud above you lets out thunder or lightning; but that might be because im self projecting on kinger again and making him anxious about storms.. shrugs. unlike pomni i think he would try to find a solution right there, offering himself up to talk to you regardless of risk. likes seeing your sunrays cast down because he's well aware that its a visual indicator that youre happy, and that makes him feel more.. sure of himself that everything is fine, or at least as fine as it can be in the digital world. very nice, very sweet

ZOOBLE:

doesnt like water getting into their joints/where their body parts connect since it can make them feel.. weird. slicked or even waterlogged depending on which joint it is. not the best comforter but theyre trying their best; will yell at someone is they made you upset (cough cough jax). as mean as it sounds, they can sometimes get a little overwhelmed/annoyed by your weather patterns, but they do feel bad since they understand its a reflection of your emotions. definitely still cares about you, though. bad at cheering people up, but they will at least make an attempt though unlike some other characters in this post/other characters not in this post, theyre not going to pester until they see your sunrays come back

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁

Rúben Dias x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You and Ruben where adamant to keep your relationship out of work but things don't always go according to plan.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst

Notes: First one I post about Ruben but kinda liked it even though it's kinda messy and all over the place.

"Is Y/N in today?"

Lucy shook her head with a crooked grin, trying to bite in a smug smile "She will come in an hour or so" she proceeded to tell the Portuguese who nodded.

"Don't make things up Lucy" he muttered but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh I am surely not Mr Dias" she smiled back, sitting back on her desk chair as he straightened up "Well, have a good day" he mumbled before hurrying up the stairs.

You knew you were late as you rushed through the entrance of the building, out of breath and stressed out.

"A certain someone asked for you this morning" Lucy grinned as you stopped at her reception desk. Hands full of your working bag, gym bag and files that you needed to go through after failed attempts at doing it during the weekend.

"Who?" you questioned, putting the bags down on the ground as you breathed heavily, being late to work was a bad habit but it did make your fitness better.

"Who do you think?" Lucy chuckled, folding her arms over her chest like it was the most obvious answer.

"Uh-uh Ruben?"

"Ding ding ding" she grinned, tapping her finger on the desk in tact with the sounds she did.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the little smile that tugged at your mouth. "Don't give me that look"

"I'm not giving you anything I am just asking you a question and pointing out something obvious"

You shook your head, warning her to continue. "I'm gonna go work, see you for lunch?" you hummed, picking up your bags and starting of to the stairs while she laughed at you "Don't try to hide the truth!" she shouted tempting you to flick her off behind your back but you held back and settled in your office. Putting the bags on the small chair by the door before settling in the spacey room which you proudly called your office.

Working as a PR manager for Manchester City had been a dream so far. Only being on the post for a month short you still had a lot to adjust to and a lot to learn but it had all been going great so far. Finding new friends by the staff and also befriending a few of the players. It was your dream job and landing it at your age was a dream in itself.

You spent the morning working through files of different events and matches. Writing player profiles and interview-templates.

The clock was about eleven when a knock made you stop and welcome the person inside.

"It's open" The door shot open and Ruben appeared, his small smile and two coffee cups in his hands making you smile widely.

"Hi, I know it's pretty late but thought you might want some coffee" You couldn't help but smile foolishly big as the Portuguese sat down the coffee at your desk. "Thank you Ruben, it's very nice" "So.... what are you doing?" he questioned, peeking over your shoulder to get a look at your files.

"Well, right now I am writing some files for Nick to pass on to Lucy and Pep regarding the Christmas event and this is your player profile template" "Wow okay, didn't really get that.. wait, that's mine?"

"Mhm"

"What does it say?" he questioned and you chuckled at him, turning to look at him briefly before opening the file up to full screen, showing him the template.

"It's basically empty. I'm gonna have to go around and fill in this information later on, some of it will probably be filmed and all but I have just filled in the basics so far, like your name, birthday, birthplace and so on"

"Mhm" he hued as his eyes scanned the document. He looked ridicolously good regardless what he was doing, it was beginning to become almost a little bit annoying, like how could someone be so beutidul only doing something so simple as reading.

"Are you supposed to know my favorite movie?" he grinned at you, meeting your eyes. "Well I don't know Mr Diaz, are you supposed to know how I look naked? I don't think so but still you do" you mused back, grinning at him as he huffed. His hands rested on the desk, next to you as he leant forward, head tiling to the left to watch you.

"Don't put those images in my head" "You are not getting anything here, it's workspace" you muttered, turning back to your computer and continuing filling in some information in his profile.

"Favorite snack?

"Isn't this supposed to be filmed?" he questioned, "Well maybe but I should start posting this before we can even proceed with the filming so I need to get a few done before, well most of them plus these are not great interview questions"

Ruben hummed, reading through the page now open on your screen as you were thinking.

"Is Jack still here?"

Ruben tilted his head and tutted in disapproval "why would you want him?" You couldn't help but to chuckle at him "Because I want to post his profile?" "Why not mine?"

"Well because I think it would be better to post his first. He is a very popular player and his transfer was a really big publicity thing so I feel like it would get attention to the series of profiles that will occur"

"Post mine first" he grumbled, shaking his head at you while you chuckled "Come on, let me do my work and go find Jack for me"

"I will not"

"Okay, fine. Then I will go myself" you said, standing up from the chair and walking around the table, looking over your shoulder to smirk at his grumpy expression.

"Stop" he grunted as you reached the door, you stopped and turned to him with a smirk. "What? Can't I do my job?" you teased but he only shook his head at you, beckoning you over to him. "You can but right now you can not go and look for Jack" "Why not?" You laughed but still walking to him until you stood chest to chest.

His eyes had that fire they always held when he was in the mood but you had been strict in your rule that no sexual acts where gonna take place at work.

You had already broken that rule twice, once in the changing room after a red-card and another time in the media room after a dinner party.

But you were still adamant on trying to keep it as much as possible. "You shouldn't be so bratty" he murmured. You looked up at him with a chuckle "I am not bratty Ruben, I am trying to do my work and I think Jack is a great player to start with for the profiles and people love him. He is hot, strong and a great player" you teased.

He grunted at that, pushing you against the desk. "Don't stand here and say Jack is hot or you will have a problem"

"Hmm" you hummed as response, feigning thinking. "He is" "Stop"

You couldn't help but to chuckle at him as you patted his chest reassuringly.

Ruben didn't find it funny though. Grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up on the table, standing in-between your thighs and pressing up against you.

"You say one more thing and you will be in trouble" he hissed, pressing his fingers into your thighs. You hummed slightly mockingly, sticking your tongue out from the corner of your lips with a smirk on your face.

"You're just such a brat sometimes" he muttered, pushing your skirt up until it pooled around your waist. He roughly pulled your legs apart and pushed his hand into your panties. You let out a gasp at the rough treatment but you loved it.

Ruben stood with his back against the door, blocking what he was doing with his fingers from any intruders.

"Gonna make you cum in your office and then maybe you will stop being such a brat and maybe stop talking about fucking Jack" His fingers started to rub at your clit. You bit your lip tightly, trying to conceal any sounds that threatened to come out.

Two of his fingers plunged into you starting to pump furiously and making it impossible to stay quiet.

"Ruben" you whined, begging him to slow down. Pressing your face into his chest to try to conceal your moans and whines when he didn't. "Please stop. I can't keep quite" you whined, rocking against his hand.

"Try harder Gathina" he murmured against the shell of your ear, his hot breath trailing down your neck.

He switched between slamming them in and out of you and hooking them against your spot, his thumb never leaving your clit. It felt electric and you knew you would be close within minutes.

Your legs started to shake as you neared your orgasm, the sounds being louder and louder and in the end even Ruben decided it was too much, trying to muffle them with kisses. Swallowing all of your sounds. "You're so close aren't you" he smirked at you chuckling as all you could do was nod.

Just as you were right there a knock echoed through the room before the door swung open. Ruben detached his mouth from yours in shock making you let out a loud moan as you were so so so close to orgasm. Desperately trying to move away from his fingers as you heard the door open.

"Oi! What the fuck!" Jack screeched out quickly exiting the office and closing the door, standing outside the door, waiting until you were ready.

"Ruben stop!" you whined but he continued, only a few more pumps of his fingers was all you needed to release biting your lips so hard they almost bled to not moan too loud for Jack's ears.

You tried to calm down, get your breathing under control and when you did you panicked. "Ruben what the fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" You whined, watching as he licked his fingers clean before placing his hands on your shoulders to calm you down.

"Calm down y/n it was only Jack it's okay" "It's not okay! You are not gonna fired for this but I am!" You argued, gathering your bag and computer before hurrying out of the door. ignoring Rubens call of your name.

You opened the door to find Jack scratching his neck but a grin plastered on his face. You turned to him, pointing a finger at him "One word about this Grealish, and i'm talking about anything. One fucking word and you are dead"

Jack's eyes wiedened as you stormed off down the halls.

He whistled as he walked into the office where Ruben still stood, closing the door behind him.

"Soooo" Jack chuckled, pursing his lips at his teammate who mirrored his smile and chuckle. "What did I interrupt" "Nothing" Ruben hummed, shaking his head. "Nothing pft, that's bullshit you were fingering her on her office desk!" Jack burst, eyes wide and voice high.

"Okay okay, but seriously. You cannot say anything to anybody. If you do she can honestly loose her job"

"Hey, I won't but if you wanna keep it a secret ya know, maybe don't finger her in the office" he advised, walking towards the door. "Tell her I will meet her tomorrow and talk about the module she have done" he tilled, grinning as he walked out of the door.

Ruben sighed, taking the spare key from the drawer and locking the door behind him as he made his way down the stair. He was done for the morning, having a break until three when training was taking place again. "Hey Lucy have you seen y/n?" he questioned as he walked down the stairs.

Lucy looked up at the man, a slightly nervous look on her face "Uh, she, I"

"Lucy" Ruben deadpanned, knowing she knew exactly where you were.

"She just left home but she didn't want me to tell you that"

Ruben sighed "Thank you Lucy, I won't tell on you"

She nodded in appreciation as he quickly walked towards his car.

--

When Ruben unlocked the door to your apartment you were sitting on the sofa, lazy watching tv as you worked with your files. You knew who it was the second you heard the lock rustle.

"I don't want any visitors" You shouted towards the hallway but you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your mouth. The time on your sofa had made you calm down slightly, knowing Jack would never tell on you.

"Shut up" Ruben chuckled, stopping in the doorway to look at you, his arm resting against the frame and a crooked grin on his face. "Sorry for running" you hummed, settling your computer aside as he approached you. Leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't risk your job like that"

"Well I appreciate that but it's not like I didn't willingly spread my legs for you" you hummed jokingly. "Well no but still" Ruben smiled, settling down next to you on the sofa.

"It's all okay, we just need to talk about a solution. I don't wanna have to hide us forever"

"We will find a solution" he nodded in agreement, kissing your lips again, just as soft and loving.

[aoxue]

AU ask game: Yi City peeps in space! What are they doing? 🤔

What are they doing indeed! There are so many ways to answer this prompt.... I'm going to go with a scifi setting with manageable interplanetary travel, in the vein of Star Wars or Star Trek (without the same major institutions). There are other alien races, but solely for the sake of simplicity, I'm going to say our quartet here are all human.

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan are technically merchants, in so far as the work takes them all around the major trade routes through space. But they're not concerned about getting rich; Song Lan manages trade agreements and sales so they just have enough income to keep going, and their profits mainly come from wealthy markets where people won't miss the money. (Xiao Xingchen would give away their stock if someone in need asked him nicely).

Their focus is instead on helping people along the trade routes, especially in far-flung planetary systems that get less traffic and are a little more lawless. They offer aid, cheap food and resources, and useful equipment that might otherwise be hard to come by. They try to keep a low profile, but they're still wanted by several parties for interfering with their jurisdictions' affairs (powerful gangs, corrupt rulers, that farmer who owned the sand beast they killed because it was terrorizing the nomads on the Sand Planet, and who had ever heard of someone keeping one as a pet).

Other members of the MDZS cast exist in this world, too, but they're in more central places and positions of power, members of the Intergalactic High Council or whatever. By and large, they don't bother coming out to the fringes of Civilization.

Xue Yang is a mechanic on one of these far-out planets, and songxiao bring their ship to him for maintenance and repairs, and he doesn't ask too many questions. (Well, he'll ask to be annoying, but he doesn't actually care about the answer, or so he says, and will work with them regardless.) He runs his own operation and does good work for as sketchy as his shop might look. He gets business from some customers with pretty fat wallets, and a lot of that money does not come from savory places. But he keeps his nose out of people's affairs and the business keeps coming.

A-Qing is a street kid (as usual) on one of these distant planets; could be the same one Xue Yang is on, and she annoys him but will still hide out in his shop when situations get sticky. She stows away on songxiao's ship one day :) They only find her when they're far away from her planet, and then they have to outmaneuver some thugs in a drawn-out cat-and-mouse pursuit through an asteroid field or something and then lie low for a while. And. Well, A-Qing lives here now

AU ask game

[quietblueriver]

First Date

Quick little thing. Thanks @gingerniiiija for the prompt!

-

They live on the edge for a while. There’s no war, but the threat looms, and there are too many battles, too many wraiths, new demons, an annoying number of cult-y losers who try, and fail, to pull an Adriel. Things begin to slow, although nobody is really willing to trust it, and then, one Wednesday evening, a tarask shows up to bring Ava some news.

Like an asshole, he shows up in their fucking bedroom, Beatrice out of the bed, out from under Ava, and armed within like two seconds and Ava instinctively sheltering them both in a halo bubble as she scrambles in the bed. When she realizes what’s happening, she groans, flopping back in frustration and pulling her shirt back into place.

“What the actual fuck, man?”

The messenger doesn’t answer, but his massive shoulders move and his head tilts sideways in what Ava likes to think is a flaming, otherworldly demon-ish gesture for, “My bad.”

Beatrice is close to flaming herself at this point and her glare is only mildly less intimidating with her bright red cheeks. She’s pulling her hair back into a bun and has somehow already pulled on sweatpants. Ava mourns.

“This better be good, dude. I was busy.”

It is good, in the end. It’s fucking fantastic. Ava’s crying when she sits up in bed, tosses the crown as quickly as she can before pulling Bea into her. “It’s over, Bea. It’s over. We’re done.”

- They’re not done done, of course. There are still wraiths and weird demons and whatever, still egomaniacs trying to harness supernatural shit to do bad things. But it’s at, like, a normal, manageable level, and, not for nothing, Ava’s now got a (sort of) god on (sort of) speed dial if things get really out of hand. They can relax a little. They can relax a lot, relative to the way they’d been living, and Ava’s ready. She’s got a long list of things she wants to do and she knows exactly where she’d like to start.

-

It’s not that they haven’t had any time together. They share a bed, and they’ve tried really hard to find time to be together outside of work. She has loved the little moments, where they could steal them—tucking herself into Bea’s shoulder for a movie or star-gazing on the roof or taking dinner to the garden, Bea shyly pulling candles from a backpack. She has loved them, and she wants more of them, but she also wants to take Bea into the world. Since she’s been back, every non-work trip outside of the Cradle has been a group outing—some combination of friends and novices and other OCS members. It made sense while the war was still an “any minute now” kind of thing. Safety in numbers and divine protection on her spine and all that.

No more.

She finds Cam and Mother Superion and Dora in Mother Superion’s office while Bea is training a small group of novices who are ready for more advanced sparring.

“Ava!” Camila springs up from her seat to give her a hug, standard practice regardless of the fact that they’d seen each other three hours ago. Ava welcomes it and then stands in front of Superion’s desk, arms crossed. She realizes she might look a little too serious when Superion’s brows furrow and she asks, hand reaching automatically for the spot where Ava knows she keeps a favorite knife, “Is something wrong?”

Forcing herself to relax, she moves her arms to her side and breathes out. “No. No. I’m sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I just…I need a favor.” Superion raises a brow. “I want to take Bea on a date this weekend. In the city.”

A Goldilocks array of grins appears across the three faces in front of her.

Camila, big and beaming, claps her hands and says, “Oh, yay.” Ava smiles dopily back at her, because yeah, oh yay is right.

Superion prompts, after a moment, small but genuine smile still in place, “And how can we help?”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

They agree, happily, to keep an eye on things and avoid calling either of them unless it’s absolutely essential, a standard she does not have to explain. They also agree to keep it to themselves until she actually asks Bea. Camila walks out with her, asking about the details of Ava’s plan until they reach the turn for the chapel. Her chest expands as it does sometimes in moments like these, when she realizes she has a friend like Camila, who will get into it with her about plans to take her girlfriend on a date. Gratitude, big and effusive, runs through her.

“You better tell me everything.”

“Of course.” Ava lets her smile shift to something a little less wholesome, and Camila immediately rolls her eyes, pushing her shoulder.

“Not everything. You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

A hug, reflexive and familiar.

“Text me when you actually ask her,” Camila orders as she turns down the hallway.

-

Ava takes a deep breath. Her stomach flips again and she feels silly for being nervous, given that they sleep in the same bed in a very non-platonic way. But like, Bea deserves to have someone be nervous over her. My god, is she the kind of girl to be nervous over. And Ava deserves to get to be nervous over a girl, is fucking outrageously lucky to get to be nervous over Beatrice. Neither one of them got to have this when most people do. It’s a gift to get to have it now. She won’t waste it.

She lets herself enjoy the swoop in her stomach as she says, “Hey, Bea.”

“Hmm?”

They’re finishing lunch, Bea contemplating the fruit on offer for her afternoon snack. Her sharp eyes, having already found both a banana and a pear wanting, are now critically appraising an apple.

“Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

She feels better now, about her nerves, as Bea’s cheeks shift close to the shade of the apple in her hand. Her wide eyes meet Ava’s and suddenly she’s back in Switzerland, hoping hoping hoping—in the bar, at the farmer’s market, in their tiny kitchen, in their perfect, uncomfortable bed—that maybe the look on Bea’s face means Ava isn’t the only one in trouble.

“That.” Her voice is low and a little rough, and she clears her throat, cheeks even darker. Ava nearly bursts with affection. “That would be nice. Yes.”

Ava kisses her then, because she can, because there are some definite perks to having done basically everything backwards. Beatrice melts into it, strong shoulders relaxing as one of Ava’s arms wraps around them, the other cradling her jaw. She feels Bea’s right arm lift and then drop, limited by the apple, but her free hand settles at the small of Ava’s back. They’re still in the dining hall, even if they are relatively tucked away, so they break apart much more quickly than either of them would like. The blush is still there, but Bea’s eyes are bright with something else now, and Ava lets the halo hum a little as she steps back and reaches for Bea’s hand.

“Cool.”

[cafeseoulmate]

baby bear

established relationship au; Why We (Don’t) Work standalone bonus; wc: 773

If there is one habit that Beomgyu brought from your childhood to adulthood, from your years of strictly platonic friendship to almost a month of officially dating now, it’s the way he would not hesitate to trade you to Satan if it means getting your old teddy bear, Ms. Fluffy.

The little white and red teddy was actually a gift from his mom to you back when your respective parents were still the ones picking out your gifts for your schoolmates and writing the gift tags as if you were the ones who prepared them. You were in kindergarten back then and though you weren’t in the same section, little Beomgyu still insisted to Mrs. Choi that they buy you something, anything to show you that he considered you close enough to buy you a holiday gift.

Mrs. Choi ended up picking out Ms. Fluffy for you when Beomgyu then mentioned how you sometimes complained about having trouble sleeping during class nap times, something you’d scold him for later because you thought that was embarrassing (regardless of how much he reassured you that it isn’t).

Then the name Ms. Fluffy, proudly given by your six-year-old self way back then, is from the fact that her fur is exceptionally soft and her ears stick out from all the times you’ve picked on them nervously. Beomgyu used to teased you for it during sleepovers but you always manage to eavesdrop on him affectionately calling the teddy bear by its name with a higher-pitched voice when he thinks you’re not in the room or not paying attention.

Though it’s a gift from him to you, it does often feel like he just had his mom buy it for you to have an excuse to have a teddy bear. You’re pretty sure if your boyfriend were to choose between saving you and Ms. Fluffy from drowning, he’s probably going after your teddy bear first.

He always moves her little arms and legs to imitate walking and dancing, conjures up a specific high-pitched voice as if to make her talk, hugs her to his chest whenever he’s in your dorm or at your house, and shamelesslt borrows and steals her before you could leave for a trip.

And, naturally, since you started dating officially last Christmas break, Beomgyu’s obsession with Ms. Fluffy has grown exponentially worse.

You don’t know if you’re going to be endeared or annoyed specifically with how he always places the teddy bear either between the two of you or on your laps during movie nights, calling the teddy bear your baby and treating her like she’s actually your child accompanying you on your stay-home dates.

It makes your heart flutter, of course, but when you do actually want to hug Ms. Fluffy, Beomgyu’s somehow always objecting to it.

“She’s my kid originally, why can’t I hug my own kid?” You pout, playing along to Beomgyu’s antics in the hopes that he would give in this time. Tonight, Insidious is streaming on Beomgyu’s laptop because you both thought that your respective cowardice would cancel each other out. “Let me have Ms. Fluffy, Gyu!”

Beomgyu, however, stubborn as he is, pouts back even harder while keeping Ms. Fluffy in place between the two of you. “Uh, no, she stays in the middle.” He insists for the second time, patting Ms. Fluffy’s head. “Let her watch the movie in peace, Y/N. What if she wants to actually sit through a horror movie?”

“What if she gets scared like me, though? Look at her, she’ll need hugs too!”

“Then I’ll hug you both like this!” Your boyfriend then circles his arms over you, his hoodie sleeves covering Ms. Fluffy just as the doorbell starts ringing in the movie. “See? I’ll just protect you both!”

You scoff teasingly, though you do already feel your insides melting at the gesture. “I want to hug just Ms. Fluffy, though.”

He glares down at you immediately in response. “I’ll divorce you and take custody of Ms. Fluffy.” He threatens, making you stifle a giggle. “I’m being serious, Y/N!”

Serious Beomgyu, however, is always an adorable sight to see with his pout and his furrowed brows, so much so that you easily break character after this and reach a hand up to pinch his cheeks. “You’re so cute.”

“Hug me back, then! I’m not waiting all day!”

“Fine, fine, you grumpy baby.” You roll your eyes, picking up Ms. Fluffy from between the two of you and directing her arms to Beomgyu’s neck before hugging the two. “Better?”

“Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to watch a movie anymore. Let’s just cuddle, I think Ms. Fluffy would also agree.”

“Agreed.”

barista’s notes: merry christmas everyone! 💗����

[malkaleh]

ooooh so I would love to hear more about Helen Norwich, and about how the English Civil War might have gone in that 'verse!

Helen, I don’t know if I said but she’s Norwich’s niece. Which I want to be clear, he never did anything to her but OH BOY. She was also born not that long after Tom Cromwell escaped him (Helen was born in 1523) after he’d been expecting to be his older brothers heir for so long (his brother had been married twice before Helen’s mother with no children and they had Helen late in their marriage).

Helen is very quiet, very considered and sensible - but she is beautiful which Norwich, after his Annoyed At Her Existence was like ‘…oh yay BARGAINING CHIP’ - it meant he could hold her wardship and then find an appropriate husband for her that could best benefit him.

(Helen was preparing to make the best of this she could - at least Norwich didn’t actually give a fuck about the actual management of the Earldom and she’s fairly sure that any husband he would pick for her wouldn’t either and would be happy for her to stay in the country with their children while he was at court so…she’d have that at least, in between whatever cruelty)*

*I’m fairly sure Norwich wouldn’t suffer like extreme cruelty because Status Thing and Status Thing Only but also he would totally not care if Helen was miserable or not.

She gets the Earldom in her own right in the end and makes it a really lovely place again - I think Welles Hall is actually particularly famous for fine wool(s) but I’m still working that out.

The Civil War in OT3 verse is me going ‘what if I flip things and the Restorationists are pissed about the increasing democracy + their colonial attempts got slapped down HARD’ essentially.

Essentially there’s this but I’ll babble some more!

Baron Hugh Wake (Of Liddell) is based on a real historical family - the first Baron had a daughter married one of the sons of Edward I by his second wife. It is however by his son (in our history both of the first barons sons died but here his oldest lives) John that Baron Hugh is descended.

King Hugh/The Restorationist King essentially begins the rebellion, well I’ll go from my notes:

Started it after his father, son and some of his sons friends were going to be jailed for human rights abuses. Believed that England should be an Empire to be great, should expel all the Jewish people, should become a Christian nation and revert to the ‘natural order of nobility.  

(They attempted to start a colony in what we would call North America. (The Spanish had previously been kicked out of South America in a story that is not mine to tell but does happen). They failed Miserably)).

There are whisperings about the changes Thomas and Mihrimah make and things do happen but they really start in Turhan’s reign. And then it goes on and becomes louder. About how Not White, Not Christian the royal family has become. About how there are Jews and Muslims and…in England. About how there is no imperialism, no ‘glory of empire’ and how people are being penalised for trying to make one by like jail. 

So we get to Henry VIII’s great great (I think that’s enough greats!) grandson Arthur (Jahan) II (I call him Arthur II because of the Tudor Arthurian Fandom Thing). His first child is a daughter and he decrees that she’s going to be the heir regardless of any brothers born afterwards. The royal family takes the final steps to expand representative democracy. Also the eventual restoration king’s son, his sons friends and his father are jailed for a failed attempt to colonise North America. They rebel at all of the above (it is possible that I a biracial jewish etc woman am Having Some Feelings). Arthur is eventually beheaded, there’s a Restoration King for the same time Oliver Cromwell ruled and then..Arthur’s daughter Charlotte Askala is invited back. 

The Restorationist Reign included a lot of awful things happening - like I mentioned the reform schools here

But that was very much the idea - they also did that to the children of nobles etc who weren’t restorationists. It’s pretty heavy history and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately (including Gregory Cromwell’s descendant(s) and how the chest with the Triads letters etc survived). The King Arthur Jahan was beheaded, his wife and daughter sent into exile. (I love them as well). Then Charlotte Askala (his daughter) is asked back because the whole thing falls apart after Hugh���s death (he’d styled himself essentially as protector of the realm for the quote ‘true king’

There’s a whole bunch of other things that will come up in the modern day with this universes version of the Abdication in the 1930s but I will stop now! (Also the other thing to know about Hugh is that he has two children he loves deeply - his son ended up in luxurious exile and never had children but his daughter had three daughters of her own but because Restorationists do not accept inheritance through the female line they are never going to be able to be held up as heirs which is a whole other Fuckery related to the abdication).

[nebula-drcams]

@civicmuses asked: ♡ Todd & Nimue?

@captainseamech asked: ♡ Nimue x Todd :3c { captainseamech asked: (I mean to say toad btw NDNMD) }

Soft Ship Meme || Currently Accepting

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃? The way Sal and I discussed it was more of a uh, Nimue slips up about how she feels because of something the guys said IIRC { because the Brotherhood would've picked up instantly that the two of them had a thing for each other but neither was saying anything }, so she would've technically ' confessed ' but Todd would've been the one to follow up on it not long after { bc she does decide to like, run off and hide briefly thinking the worst in that moment }. So technically, I'd say Todd was the one who asked her out first. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚆𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂? Looks at our threads. Todd. KJFGHHFDG 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂? Todd, Nimue might eventually, but at the same time she likes using his name since everyone around them always seems to call him Toad or other names that she's not too fond of.   𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙺𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚂? Nimue, granted she'd let Todd help if he wanted, assuming he didn't manage to burn everything. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙲? Hm. Hard to say. Nimue works as a singer with her brother so she listens to all kinds of music genres. In her opinion neither has a ' better taste ', just unique. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙾𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙳? Probably Todd. Nimue would often just curl up next to him regardless. She prefers to be as close as possible so it's not like she needs the whole bed.  𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃? Todd, depending on the time. Nimue's not really a morning person so she struggles to wake up early to the point she can and will just go right back to sleep if she doesn't want to move. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴? Nimue. I don't even think Todd drinks coffee { probably best, man bounces around the house bad enough as is } 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙾𝙽? Todd. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃? Nimue usually, unless Todd's trying to get her to go to sleep most likely. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳? I feel like that's a back and forth with them. I'd say Todd probably does more often though. 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝙳𝙰? Todd. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚁𝙴𝚂? PROBABLY Todd if either of them do snore, 'cause she doesn't. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙶𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈? Hard to say, probably a toss up and it depends on the situation. Nimue's more likely to get annoyed at how Todd's treated rather than at Todd himself. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝚇? Back and forth because those two tease each other { though more often than not Nimue does it to him at the worst times so nothing happens DFHGFDGH } 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝚂 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙶𝙴? Oh this one's hard to say too, but it might end up being Todd.  𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴'𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂: She'd have to say meeting him, even though it wasn't like, the best way to go. But she'd still argue it's her favorite memory because of the fact they even know each other in the first place, because if she hadn't, she may have actually ended up with the X-Men instead.  𝙰 𝚁𝙴𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚃 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚁𝙴𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂: Fym regret? None.  𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶: She'd change when she met him, and make it sooner. For many reasons. But that's about it. 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴: Physical touch.

@plasticsouled mention

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 18

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: profanity

Because this a deviation from the original series, this fic will include more tie-in’s to Extraction 2 and characters and events mentioned in the movie :)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @thebewingedjewelcat @munstysmind @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @ninjasawakenedmystar @asirensrage @karimac @kmc1989 @residentdormouse @timbradfordsboot @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag,  @occommunity​

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you’d like to be added.

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/123580417

******

Tyler finds himself drifting towards a warm, comfortable sleep when his cell phone vibrates against his chest; expecting a call from Nik with updates on that morning’s incident but instead finding Delaney’s number splashed across the display.

Biting back a groan of irritation, he briefly considers his options; whether to allow it to go to voicemail or to just gather both the balls and the patience to finally -and permanently- deal with the inevitable.   There’s never an easy way to sever ties; someone is going to have their heartbroken regardless of how gently the other handles the situation. Not only will being blunt and straightforward result in hurt feelings, but so will allowing things to drag on and her expectations and hopes for both him -and their future- to continue to grow.

He hates it; those fragments of emotional cowardice that still exist inside him. He’d been holding out hope that simply ignoring the voicemails and texts would send a crystal-clear message; she’d ‘get the picture’ and simply surrender and just peacefully disappear into the sunset.   But the continued attempts to contact him are becoming increasingly annoying; Delaney either refusing to take the hint or remaining completely delusional when it comes to the status -and the future- of their relationship.

Deciding on the more difficult and potentially painful course of action, he presses the heels of his palms into his weary eyes before answering the call. “Yeah?”

“So, you ARE alive.”

For the first time ever, her voice grates on his nerves; an irritation that causes his jaw to clench and travels straight to his bones.  Perhaps it’s nothing more than a side effect of the morning he’d had; his temper already on a slow boil and growing in intensity with every minor inconvenience and tiny annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Delaney gives a dry laugh.  “What does every woman want, Tyler? When it comes to their partner?  Love, attention, affection. To at least know they’re not lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

He scowls at the word ‘partner’;  a gross exaggeration of the role he’d played -at least in his mind- in their relationship.   Not once had he felt that kind of connection; the want and the need that comes with desiring a life with someone.   And he realizes now she’d been nothing more than a filler; a presence to help alleviate -at least temporarily- some of the heartache and loneliness.  There’d been good times; he’s not denying that.  He’d particularly enjoyed moments of companionship; those brief and fleeting instances when he’d smiled and laughed for what seemed like the first time in decades.

Those five years had been hell; desperately trying to navigate life without the person solely responsible for his mere existence.  And he’d manage to go weeks without reminiscing or dreaming of their time together before unexpectedly stumbling upon pieces of her; the intensity and enormity of his loss quickly -and painfully- returning. Times when he’d turn on the radio in the truck and discover one of the songs she used to dance around the kitchen to; her hair tossed up into a ponytail or messy bun and her tiny frame drowning in one of his t-shirts. Or when he’d catch sight of that cheap, tacky mug he’d hidden away at the very back of the top shelf above the sink, gingerly removing it from its resting place and then running a fingertip along the rim she’d once rested her lips upon before tucking it away again.

And every so often -while out on the street- he’d catch a brief glimpse of a tiny brunette out of the corner of his eye; his throat becoming impossibly dry while his stomach clenched and his heart hammered in his chest.  It was those moments that would hurt the most; logic screaming that it couldn’t possibly be her while his heart desperately clung to some semblance…some sliver…of hope.

“Tyler?”

“I’ve been busy.” It sounds lame, even to his own ears.

“So busy you couldn’t be bothered to talk on the phone for five minutes? Or send even one text? What could possibly have you so busy that you can’t even give me the bare minimum?”

He glances down at the culprits. Esme and Millie both fast asleep, securely tucked into either side of him.; the latter’s face pressed into his ribs and one of her tiny arms thrown across his chest. It had felt so damn good; lying there with the two most important people in his life.  Confident in the knowledge that they felt calm and safe in his presence. Being wrapped in his arms enabled them to temporarily push aside the nightmare that had occurred less than two hours before; both having the utmost faith in his ability to protect them.

“Why ARE you there?” Delaney inquires.  “New York City of ALL places. Why…?”

“Someone needed my help.  I couldn’t turn them down.”

“There wasn’t anyone remotely close by that could help them? Why did they need you? What…?”

“They asked for me. By name.”

“And who are they, exactly?”

“An ex.  She ran into some trouble. Needs me to help get her out of it.”

“An ex? From how long ago? Must have been way before me because you’ve never talked about any exes. Other than your wife.

“She wasn’t that long before you.  A few years.”

“And you never talked about her before because…”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Delaney. And she’s one of them.”

“This is all very confusing.  I don’t understand what the hell is even going on. What do you mean asked for you? By name? I don’t get why…?”

“This is a side job of mine. People get themselves into trouble and call my handler, and my handler calls me.”

“Your handler? What…?”

“I help people.  Get them out of tight spots. She called and asked for me.  I wasn’t going to say no. Especially not to her.”

“Tyler…” She sighs in exasperation. “…I don’t know if you’re purposefully trying to make things more confusing than they need to be or if you’re just playing some game with me, but none of this is making any sense.  An ex-girlfriend gets into trouble and calls someone you call ‘your handler’ because they need your help?  You realize how…weird…this all sounds, yeah? A handler? What does that even mean? What kind of talk is it that? And what kind of trouble? What kind of help do they need? That no one else could give it.  What...?”

“I’m a mercenary.”

Silence descends. And just as he's about to inquire if she's still on the line, Delaney gives a loud, incredulous laugh.

“If you’re going to continue to bullshit me, Tyler, at least try and make it believable.”

“I’ve been a mercenary for years. Long before I met you. Nik isn’t just a friend of mine. She’s my boss. My handler.”

“You expect me to believe all of this? That Nik is some kind of organized crime boss? That she’s…”

“She runs her own business. A couple of them, actually. This is just her side gig.”

“You’re being serious about this, aren’t you. This isn’t some wild, bullshit excuse to…”

“I’m dead serious. After I left the military, I was introduced to Nik and she brought me on board.”

“How would ever hear about a job like you THAT? Who would you get into that sort of thing? How’d you’d ever meet Nik in the first place? How…?”

“None of that matters. Let’s just keep it to the basics, yeah? This is who I am. Or at least PART of who I am.”

“That’s typical of you, you know. Keep so much back. I thought maybe it was just a quirk of yours; that you’d eventually get over it and you’d open up to me a bit more.”

“I’m not one for opening up to people. It’s a very short list; of those I trust enough.”

“And I take it I’m not on that list.”

“No. You’re not. And I don’t know if you ever would have been.”

“Well that’s just…” She sighs heavily. “…an asshole thing to say.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just the truth. Which I should have been telling you all along. Especially when it came to you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘us’?”

“No. Because there was never an ‘us’. Not the way you wanted there to be, anyway.”

“Wow. Just…”. She gives a dry laugh. “…wow. So what is this? This little talk we’re having. All the surprises you’re dropping on me. What…?”

“I owe you some transparency. I supposed I’ve owed you that all along. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“How much is a lot?”

“Enough.”

“And you didn’t think being a mercenary…a hired killer…was something I should know? We were getting serious, Tyler. We were sharing a bed. We were sharing a LIFE. We…”

“No. We weren’t. Not really. The bed was pretty much all we shared.”

“And whose fault is that? Who is the one that just kept closing himself off? Every time I tried to get closer, you just battened down the hatches even more and…”

“It was never going to happen. I was never going to open up like that. Not the way you wanted me to, anyway. And that’s no bearing on you, believe me. You’re an amazing woman; you’re beautiful and you’re smart as hell and any guy would be lucky to have you. Just…”

“I’m not what you want.”

“No. You’re not WHO I want.”

“The ex. Who you went to New York City to help. She’s who you want?”

“Only for the last five years. She’s the love of my life and…”

“You love her that much why did it ever end? She didn’t feel the same way? Now all these years she suddenly wants you back?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business why it ended. But it was no fault of hers. Or mine. It was a bad time. There was a situation beyond both our control. A dangerous one. And she left.”

“What kind of situation?”

“Didn’t I already say it’s none of your business? I don’t owe you that information. I don’t owe ANYONE that. My life with her? The time we spent together and why it fucked up? That’s shit you could never begin to understand.”

“So much for transparency.”

“Delaney...” His trails off as he struggles to keep his temper in check; his anger towards the events of the morning on a permanent boil and his patience running extremely short. And he glances down when he feels Esme stir against him; nuzzling his ribs with the tip of her nose and then stretching languorously as she gives a long, quiet yawn.

She smiles when his free hand smoothes messy hair away from her cheeks and off her forehead, then jerks a thumb towards the door and whispers, “Do want some privacy? Do you want me to go?”

Shaking his head, he drapes an arm across her shoulders and pulls her closer; lips meeting her brow before he pushes his fingers through her hair and firmly guides her head towards his chest.

“She’s there right now, isn’t she,” Delaney snarls. “Isn’t she.”

“She is,” Tyler confirms. “She’s right here.”

“What’s her name?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“What does she look like?”

“You don’t need to know that, either.”

“A woman likes to know her competition.”

“There’s no competition. It’s only her. It’s always been only her. It always will be ONLY HER.”

“So that’s it? You’re magically reunited with your ex? An ex I never even knew existed? You’re back together like nothing ever went wrong? That sounds healthy.”

“It was no fault or hers or mine; why things ended. And now we’ve got a second chance. To have the life together that we talked about and started planning.”

“It was that serious?”

“We lived together. At my old place. And The house? MY house? It was ours. We bought it together.”

“And you never thought of telling me about this? About HER?”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you what you wanted. Be WHO you wanted.There’s no choice to be made. It’s her and no one else. I just thought it was better to tell you all this now. Instead of coming back and risking you showing up at the house and finding her and our daughter there.”

A long, pregnant pause. Delaney’s voice a low, sinister hiss when she finally speaks. “Excuse me? Your WHAT?”

“I have a daughter. She’s four. And she’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she deserves her mum and dad together. So that’s what we’re going to give her.”

“Have you always know about this kid and just never told me or..?”

“I just met her. When I got here. And you don’t need to know the story behind that or why things were kept from me. All you need to know is that I have a little girl and I’m going to throw myself into having a life with her. And her mother.”

“Like that’s healthy. A relationship solely because there’s a kid involved.”

“I’m in the relationship because I love my daughter’s mother. More than I’ve ever loved someone. Or thought was even possible. She’s the love of my life; whether you want to hear that or not. When I get back to town, I’ll pack up anything you left at the house and leave it on the porch. Give it a few days and I’m come and get it. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to talk to you. Just get your shit and go.”

“Tyler...” Esme whispers, and lightly pinches his stomach. “…try to be gentle, please.”

“So just like that? You’re dumping me? After everything we’ve shared and the things we’ve done together and falling in love…”

“I never loved you. I never once told you I did. Or gave you a reason to think I was. And I was never going to. I told you time and time ago I was never going to give you what you wanted: I wasn’t going to commit or settle down or get married. You chose to stay knowing all of that. That’s a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘me’ problem.”

“But I bet that all changes now. Now that this bitch ex-girlfriend has crawled out of the woodwork. I bet you live with her and marry her and…”

“I’m only going to tell you this once. You DON’T talk about her like that. That’s my future wife. The mother of my child. And you will NOT disrespect her.”

“What are you going to do about it? If I do? What…?”

“Just come and get your shit in a few days. Chapter closed. Goodbye, Delaney.”

“You can’t do this. Trade me in. For someone lesser than me. Now one could EVER top this. No one..”

“I said goodbye, Delaney. Fuck off.” Disconnecting the call, he tosses the phone onto the nightstand, then glances down at Esme. “That went well.”

“She seemed a little…mad.”

“Just a bit.”

“I heard that last little part. She certainly thinks very highly of herself.”

“For absolutely zero reason.”

“You must have found her attractive and appealing. To hook up with her. You must have…”

“I was lonely. And horny. Don’t read too much into it.”

“And you weren’t lonely and horny when you showed up here? And seduced me that first night?”

“Baby, I’m always horny when it comes to you. But as far as seducing…”

Sliding further up the bed, she presses a kiss to his cheek and then nuzzles his temple with the tip of her nose. “You very good at it, by the way. The whole seducing me thing. First in Dhaka, now here.”

HIs hand falls to the small of her back and slips under the back of her t-shirt. of her t-shirt, fingers “Don’t start with that shit. You seduced ME. Here and in Dhaka.”

“Yeah… right…” Pulling back, she trails a gentle fingertip along the length of the scar on the left side of his brow, followed by its ‘companion’ that resides near the corner of his eye. “You okay?”

“A little pissed. Some of the things she said. About you.”

“Don’t even give any of that a second thought. She’s just hurt. Lashing out. Hurt people hurt OTHER people.”

“Something tells me she’s not going to go away quietly. That we’re going to have a bit of an issue with her.”

“Well considering the sizes of the issues I’ve dealt with in the past, I don’t think I’ll have a problem handling her.”

Millie murmurs in her sleep and moves against him; rolling onto her back, head nestled in the crook of his elbow. When she shoves her thumb into her mouth, he quickly yet gently removes it; whispering words of comfort and reassurance in an effort to keep her immersed in her slumber. And he runs a fingertip down the bridge of her nose and rests his palm on the top of her head; his thumb repeatedly caressing her brow as his eyes take in her incredibly long, dark lashes, the freckles she’d inherited from her mother, and the glistening, pink lips.

Placing her chin upon his chest, Esme reaches across his body; a fingertip sweeping strands of Millie’s off her forehead. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She’s perfect.”

“We did good, didn’t we? I mean, I always knew we’d make incredibly pretty babies. There was never a doubt in my mind. But we did an exceptionally good job with her.”

“YOU’VE done a good job with her. I haven’t done anything. Yet. When I think about how you went through all of it alone; finding out about her, the pregnancy, the first four years…”

“It wasn’t easy,” Esme admits. “It was hard and it was lonely and every second of every day I wished that things could be different. That you could be there. And I AM sorry, Tyler. That I never contacted you. That I was stupid and immature and…”

“You had your reasons. Ones that we don’t talk about right this second. All that matters is I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Smiling, she pecks the corner of his mouth and then places her head on his shoulder. And she presses the tip of her nose against the side of his neck as her hand wanders and explores his body; broad shoulders and wide, solid chest, the little bit of ‘extra’ that sits just below his ribs, the definition to his abs that’s noticeable through the fabric of his t-shirt. While he’s changed over the last five years, so much remains the same. Familiar. The scent and the warmth that clings to him, the goosebumps and the sighs and the shivers that his hands so easily draw from her, the love and adoration and protection that’s found in his arms.

“Did you really mean it?” Her palm slides up the front of his shirt; a fingertip repeatedly tracing slow, lazy circles around his navel. “What you said to Delaney?”

“Which part?”

Her hand travels across his stomach and then slips down to the scar that graces his lower abdomen; one of the many ‘souvenirs’ he’d collected during the attempt to get his ex-sister-in-law and her children to safety. “When you called me your future wife. Was that true or was it just something you said to further piss her off?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually asking me that. I’m almost offended.”

“I didn’t know if you’d still even consider getting married. Especially to me.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean? We talked about it, didn’t we? Five years ago.”

“Well, that’s exactly it. It WAS five years ago. A lot has changed since then. WE’VE changed.”

“Yeah, but THAT hasn’t changed. At least not for me.” He scowls as he looks down at her. “It’s changed for you?”

“No! God no. I still want that. I still want to get married. To YOU. I just wasn’t sure if you still wanted it. To marry ME.”

“I wouldn’t have said if I didn’t. When do I ever say things that I don’t mean?”

“That’s a very good point.”

“Once we’re somewhere safe and things settle down, we can talk about all that. Make plans if you’re up to it. For now…” His back arches off the bed when her fingertips travelling along the bottom of his rib case; eyes closed, a grimace on his face. “…FUCK!:

She quickly pulls her hand away, alarmed. “What’s wrong? You’ve got some kind of pain? What…?”

“That tickled.”

“And THAT’S the reaction you have? Like you’ve been shot?”

“I don’t like it. I hate it. Being tickled.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Esme grumbles, and rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a baby. You’re the only person I know who can keep straight-faced with broken ribs yet lose their shit over being tickled.”

“You know I don’t like it.”

“Because you think it’s girly’. You think a man being ticklish is feminine. I am telling you, one day, Tyler. One day I will rid you of every last bit of toxic masculinity. If it takes me until my last, dying breath!”

“Which may end up being sooner than you expected if you keep tickling me.”

“I’m barely touching you!”

“Your hand is really far down. You’re getting into dangerous territory. There’s a child in the room, Esme. Control yourself.”

“You and your ‘forever teenage boy’ hormones,” she huffs, and removes her hand from his shirt; palm smoothing down the wrinkles in the fabric before settling on his chest.

Their eyes close as they fall into a quiet, companionable silence. And Esme finds herself once lulled once more towards sleep by feel of his fingertips repeatedly skimming along her upper arm and the sound of Millie’s soft, rhythmic breathing.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

Laying a hand on his cheek, she turns his head towards her. “Let’s get married.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Okay.”

******

Wick approaches as she stands at French doors that lead out onto the expansive, rooftop patio.  Behind them, various members of the team begin to arrive for the hastily scheduled meeting;  finding themselves suddenly running on an even tighter schedule; prepared to burn the midnight oil in regard to strategizing and the eventual extraction itself.

What had started out as three days until ‘go time’ has now become forty-eight hours. If that.  Winston demanding they leave the property as soon as possible; regardless of how bloody or deadly the outcomes. Furious about the damage done to his property as opposed to being concerned about the situation itself. And it had broken Esme’s heart when she not only showed little no compassion towards Tyler’s life nearly being cut short, but had barely blinked an eye when told of Millie being put in harm’s way.

Wick sidles up beside her; giving a small smile in both comfort and greeting, then offering her a mug of tea.

Esme accepts the drink with a smile of appreciation, then turns her attention back to the outdoors.   She feels as if she’s operating on auto-pilot; not fully seeing or appreciating the sunshine, not really hearing the voices of others in the room. Colours seemed subdued, sounds are muffled. And her body moves on memory and instinct alone; even when it comes to even the smallest and most mundane of things.

“You’re a good friend, Jonathan.”

“It’s just a tea.  The bare minimum of friendship.”

“It’s not just that. It’s everything.  All the things you’ve done for us in the past week.  You didn’t even hesitate when Nik called you; about what Alessio’s family had planned and needing your help to get Millie and me away from them.  And here you are now; so willing to lend a hand. Even if it means pissing Winston off. You know it’s not going to sit well, right?  You being on Tyler’s side?”

“I know that they’re not exactly the biggest fans of each other.  And I know that Tyler has very valid reasons for feeling the way he does.  Winston on the other hand…”

“Do you really think it’s true?  That he hates Tyler because of me?  Because he thinks I deserve better? That he believes he’s the one who can give me that?”

“I think in Winston’s mind, he believes he’s doing the right thing.”

“But?”

“But I think he’s horribly misguided.  I think somewhere along the line of helping out and protecting you, he went beyond…far beyond…seeing you as a daughter.   When he started, he had the best of intentions; he saw you as someone younger who needed comfort and protection.  He looked at you like his own. Like a daughter he never had; someone he could nurture and mould and keep something. And then suddenly you grew up in front of him and…”

“I’ve always been an adult. For as long as he’s known me.”

“Not in his eyes.  To him, you went from being this helpless and scared little girl to being a mature, strong-willed woman.  And when he started recognizing you in that way…”

“I can’t even stand to think about it. Winston seeing me that way. Never mind feeling those things.  I appreciate everything he’s done for us; giving us a safe place to hide out and treating Millie like she’s his own flesh and blood.  But I don’t appreciate it that much. To ever look him in that way.”

“I imagine he’s hopeful.  That he’s thinking if Tyler was out of the way…”

“Tyler or no Tyler, it would NEVER happen.  I would never feel a thing for him. Not in the way he wants me to, anyway.  Has he talked about this stuff to you? I know that you’re pretty close and…”

“Just little comments here and there. In passing. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And it goes far beyond something fatherly and innocent.”

“Just…” Esme grimaces. “…ewwww.”

“And speaking of being looked at a certain way…” He glances over his shoulder, to where Tyler chats with Yaz and Nik. “I know someone else that does that. When it comes to you.”

“Yeah, but he’s allowed.  I like when he looks at me. Other people? Especially Winston? That’s a ‘no’ from me.”

“So you and Tyler are…”

“We’re together.  Working on things.  We figured it would be better that way, especially for Millie.  If we formed a united front; help each other through everything. I know that probably sounds weird, huh?  Just jumping right back into things?”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all.  It was a horrible five years; for both of you.   And it wasn’t that you didn’t love each other; that’s not why you had to leave Australia.  It was a messed-up situation. And you weren’t given much of a choice; when it came to handling things.”

Esme stares down at her drink, thoughtfully swirling the contents around in the mug. “I never wanted to leave.  That was the LAST thing I wanted.  We had it all planned.  We bought a house, Tyler applied to the fire academy, and I was looking into going back to school.  We even talked about getting married and starting a family.  US. Of all people.  We’d both sworn that kind of stuff off; we didn’t have the best track records regarding marriages.”

“You can make all the promises to yourself you want. Swear up and down that you’ll never get mixed up with that kind of thing again. And along comes that one person…”

“I told myself I’d never trust anyone again. That I’d learned my lesson; about giving my heart away.  I was perfectly content to spend the rest of my life by myself. I’d already dealt with one Mark; no way in hell was I putting up with another.  And then Nik took me to that little shack in the Australian outback, and that was it. The second he looked at me with those eyes? I was a goner.”

“And I’m sure you don’t regret it.  Going against everything you planned.”

“Not for a single second.   I have no regrets when it comes to Tyler and how we met or how things started between us. I’m the first to admit it; it wasn’t the right time or place. We crossed a lot of boundaries; when we decided to mix business with pleasure.  It’s not like you go into a job expecting to fall head over heels with someone.  But it happened. We happened.”

“And you ended with an amazing little girl in the process.”

“Millie is the most beautiful, incredible gift anyone could have ever given me. I’d wanted to be a mom for so long. And I honestly thought between Mark and you turning down my…’business proposal’…that it would never happen. I just didn’t think I could ever get that close to anyone. Then I met Tyler. It was wild and crazy; how attached I got to him and quickly things got so serious between us. In that moment…in that shack…it was like the whole universe had transpired to bring us together. I know…” She gives a small laugh, then sips her tea. “…it sounds pretty corny, doesn’t it.”

“No. It sounds like something that would come from a woman in love.”

“I do love him. I’ve always loved him. Even during every second of every day for the past five years. I would have given anything for things to be different; to just go back to Australia or have him here. And it killed me, not even being able to let him know where I was. Especially when I found out about Millie. It was so bittersweet. I was finally going to be a mom, yet I couldn’t even be with him. The person that helped make me one. I missed him, John. I missed him so much.”

“And now you’ve got him back. You’ve got a second chance. And it’s nice to see you’re not wasting a single second of it. You deserve to be happy, Esme. Of all the people caught up in this world and deserve to be away from it? You’re first on the list. And don’t take this the wrong way, but as much as I love you and enjoy having you around? I hope when you get out of here…out of this city…this country even…I never have to see you again. At least not like this.”

“You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”

“I won’t deny that. But this? This life? It’s time. To get away from it. For good. And you’ve got the chance; to leave it all behind. So don’t screw that up, you hear me?”

“You’ll have to promise to come and visit at least. Wherever we end up. Can’t just let Uncle John disappear from Millie’s life now, can I?”

“Wherever you all end up, I’ll make sure I’ll get there. But you’ve got to promise me. That it’s over. This part of things. That once you’re out of here, you’re out of here for good. I want you to promise that you’ll go on to bigger and better things. That you’ll have a normal life. Because that’s what you deserve. Normal.”

Smiling, she raises her mug to her lips. “I’ll say it again, Jonathan; you’re a really good friend.”

“And about what you brought up…the whole ‘business proposal’ that never was…”

“Let’s not revisit that, okay? It’s not one of my finer moments. It was humiliating as hell. I’m still embarrassed. All these years later.”

“I didn’t say no because I was against it. In theory. Had it been another place, another time, another life, I would have gladly helped out.”

“I can’t believe I ever thought it was a good idea. Recruiting a friend to help out like that. I know I always wanted to be a mom, but…”

“I was flattered. That I was at the top of your list. And had things been different…had our lives been different…I wouldn’t have thought twice about going along with it. I just wanted you to know it was never about you; why I said no when you brought it up. It wasn’t because I was disgusted or thought less of you for asking. And I know you’ve probably thought it for years. That you were out of line.”

“I was, though. I was completely out of line. It’s a crazy thing to ask of someone. But thank you; for setting my mind at ease. It’s nice to know I wasn’t the issue. At least not in a bad way.”

“It wasn’t a good situation. With both of us being caught up in this life. Even if you’d walked away, I still would have been knee-deep in it. And that isn’t who you would have wanted to have a kid with. Someone like me. All the enemies I’ve made. That’s why I said no. Because you deserved so much better than that. Better than me. And I knew that guy was out there. Somewhere.”

“What’s the saying? ‘All’s well that ends well’? Had we gone that route, I never would have met Tyler. Which means I wouldn’t have Millie. And I wouldn’t give her up for anything. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Aside from her dad, of course.”

“And as far as this being a good friend? Being there the other night, all the help I’m giving now. I guess in a way, I feel owe you.”

“Not The High Table stuff again. I thought we agreed; it’s all water under the bridge.”

“I was thinking of something more important. More…personal.”

Esme smiles up at him. “Helen.”

Wick nods

She returns to looking at the window, drink clutched in both hands as fingernails repeatedly tap against the porcelain of the mug. “She was one of a kind.”

“She certainly was.”

They’d met in a coffee shop in Brooklyn, strangers living in nearly identical brownstone apartment buildings within a block and a half from one another. Two women living very different lives; Helen, a famous and world-renowned photographer, and Esme, only six months into working under The High Table. Frequenting the same cafe twice daily, their busy schedules, sought-after skills, and expertise had made anything more than warm smiles in greeting and simplistic, minor chit-chat impossible. But they had been paying attention; learning each other’s standing orders and one often treating the other. A rather simple gesture that means so much; signifying a door left open when it came to a potential friendship.

Fate intervened three months into ‘knowing’ one another; both finding themselves at the receiving end of some well-deserved downtime. An extremely rare occurrence of clear schedules that allowed them to stop, breathe, and take in the world around them. Helen was already seated when she’d spotted Esme stepping through the front door; calling out a greeting and then flashing that brilliant smile before gesturing to the various offerings on the table. It had been the start of something so beautiful; both surrounded by the sea of humanity that ruled over New York City, yet never feeling more alone. And they’d spent hours in that cafe; drinking countless cups of tea and coffee, sampling various desserts, and lamenting about ‘single girl life’ in The Big Apple. There’d been o talk of their respective careers; instead, they’d chatted about their hometowns and large yet fractured families.

After that, they’d prioritized meeting every morning, whether at the cafe, each other’s favourite breakfast spots, or even for jogs through Central Park. Helen quickly became not only her best friend, but a sister figure. Only four years separated them, but at times Helen had seemed so much older; wise, learned, brimming with positivity and always prepared with the perfect advice for any situation. Ad she’d been more of a sibling to Esme than any of her blood relatives had ever been; suffering through even her very early years with five older brothers that lived to torment her.

“I think about her all the time,” Esme swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in her throat. “Even now, after all these years. She was my first friend…my ONLY friend...here. Outside of the circle, anyway.”

“It’s hard. Making any connections beyond all this. Most people…regular people…wouldn’t understand. Why we do what we do.”

“I’m right in the middle of it all and most of the time I don’t even understand it. And I know it sounds horrible; to say I’m at least glad she was gone before I left the city and moved to Prague. Had she been alive, I don’t know if my heart could have taken it. Saying goodbye.”

“She thought very highly of you. Always had something amazing to say about you. She valued your friendship. She would tell me that you were the sister she never had. Say how she would have given up all four of hers for one of you.”

“She was an incredible woman. Just so beautiful and so talented. And she was so perfect for you. You were perfect for EACH OTHER.”

“And that’s why I feel like I owe you. Because you were the one that brought her into my life. I got a chance at normal because of you.”

“It was merely a blind date. I just thought you’d be good together. And you were. You were so good.”

“Helen was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never thought I’d get away from this life. I thought it would always be ‘live by the gun, die by the gun’’. It never occurred to me that I could have anything more than that. Or that I even deserved to.”

“You sound so much like Tyler. The number of times he used to question the same thing; whether or not he deserved having me in his life. When really, it’s always been me that hasn’t deserved him. And considering five years ago…what I did to him…how badly I hurt him…I honestly don’t. I don’t deserve him. He should hate me. Not want anything to do with me. Yet here he is.”

“He loves you. Just as fiercely as he did back then. If not more. And there’s an extra layer to that now. You’ve made a human being together. He’s a dad again. How could he ever hate you? You’re the mother of his child. You talk about Millie being the greatest gift you’ve ever been given? I bet he’s thinking the same thing.”

“He’s so good with her, John. He’s so patient and loving and attentive and looks at her like she’s the most incredible thing on earth. And that’s not even him going ‘all in’ when it comes to the whole dad thing. He’s been holding back; until we’re ready to tell Millie the truth. Yet he’s already so amazing with her.”

“After you took off, he probably never thought he’d get another chance at raising a kid. I don’t think he ever moved on. Not really.”

“He was seeing someone. But he admitted he just couldn’t invest in her. That he couldn’t be what she wanted. He tried, but…”

“It’s pretty hard to get over; meeting the one and then losing them. And sometimes you never do. You just accept it. That you missed your chance.”

“Do you think you’ll ever meet someone? Get a second chance? At love?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stares out the window. Taking in the brilliant blue sky and the sunshine that bounces off the windows of surrounding buildings and the leaves on the patio trees; brilliant shades of yellow, orange and red.

It’s been a long time since he’s paid attention to the details of the outside world; his entire existence has been painted in shades gray and black since the death of his wife. There’s a change coming; rolling in as quickly as the frigid temperatures that accompany late fall in New York City. And he can’t quite put a finger on it; if it’s a promise of re-birth or the warning of something dreadful and sinister.

“I’m not exactly looking for that kind of thing. Or remotely interested. I had my chance. And unfortunately, fate didn’t think I deserved it. A guy like me? Having someone like Helen? Getting a normal life? It was bound to happen; being punished for the things I’ve done. People I’ve hurt.”

“That’s not why Helen was taken from you, John. You weren’t being punished. You weren’t paying the price for your sins. She was sick. It was the luck of the draw. Unfortunately, very horrible luck. And I know that’s probably very easy for me to say because I’ve never been through that kind of loss, but...”

“Viggo said it to me. When I was going after his son. He mentioned how people like us are rewarded for our misdeeds. Which is why God took my wife from me.”

“That’s NOT true. Viggo was a horrible man. I was at the receiving end of his particular brand of bullshit many times while working for him. He was evil. Why would you believe anything he said?”

“I haven’t been able to get past it. I can’t seem to let it go. He talked about how we’re cursed. How this life follows us; it clings to you and infects everyone that comes close to you.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you? A lot of people in this life have managed to escape. They’ve closed that chapter and started a whole new one. Lots of guys have walked away; they’ve found normal jobs and have gotten married and had kids.”

“The ones who are lucky. Who didn’t stick around for too long. Which is why you and Tyler need to get out here. Out of the mercenary world. Because if you guys keep going the way you are, one of you will end up just like Viggo said. The life WILL find you. It will find you and it will suck you back in and you won’t get another chance to leave. It WILL destroy you. And you both deserve better than that.”

*****

“Hey…” Tyler greets as he joins them; hands settling on Esme’s shoulders as he stands behind her. “…sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but…”

“No apologies needed,” Wick assures him, and gives a brotherly clap on the shoulder. “I’ve kept her from you far too long.”

Esme watches as he goes; the slight limp to his left leg, the slouch to his shoulders and the locks of dark hair that fall across his forehead. Frowning when she sees him approach the fully stocked bar; nodding in greeting to the lone barkeep and ordering a bourbon on the rocks. And she isn’t aware of just how tense she is until she feels calloused fingertips press into her shoulders; her eyes closing as strong, calloused fingers gently massage the tight, aching muscles. Smiling when he presses a kiss to the back of her head; her body relaxing back against his when he lays a forearm across her collarbone.

Always her rock and her protector. Effortlessly and selflessly able to put his own fears and worries and issues aside to tend to hers. And she knows she doesn’t deserve it; not after the way she’d betrayed him and the hurt that she’d caused. Yet he’s here; so attentive and adoring and gentle. And still looking at her as if she’s the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

“You alright?” Tyler drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Things looked a little…intense.”

Turning to face him, her hands settle on his hips as she looks up at him, managing a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It’s just we got talking about Helen and it’s all still pretty raw. Especially for him.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what he goes through. What he’s going on in his head twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I mean, I know what I went through; how bad off I was when I lost you. But I at least could hold out hope; that you were out there somewhere and maybe you’d just show back up one day.”

“It makes me feel so bad for him. Not just losing Helen and grieving like he still is, but having to watch us together. Our second chance is playing out in real time. Right in front of him. And he’ll never have that. Helen’s gone. Permanently.”

“He’s been pretty hard-core about it; all the advice he’s been giving me.”

“Advice?” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she struggles to lock her fingers together at the small of his back. “About…?”

“You. Us. How not to let any of the bad emotions control things.”

“You have a lot of those? Still?”

“Not a lot. A few hanging in there.”

“Towards me?”

“Towards the situation you were put in. You never should have had to make that kind of decision. They should have just let it go. You made a mistake and you were allowed to walk away; that should have been enough for them.”

So you’re angry at them and not me? Because I do deserve it, you know. It’s totally understandable; if you’re pissed at me and hurt and feel even the slightest bit of animosity towards me…”

“Esme…” Cradling her face in his palms, he brushes the pads of his thumbs along the tops of her cheeks. “…there wasn’t a single second in the last five years that I hated you. Yeah, I was angry. And hurt. But you know what else I was? Worried. Terrified. Hopeful. But I NEVER hated you.”

“I would be understandable if you did though. I did a terrible thing. Especially after things settled down. I had no reason to keep hiding. To keep your daughter from you. I didn’t…”

“You were scared. The whole rejection thing. And it might not make complete sense to me YET, but I’m starting to get it. So can you please…especially right now when we’re going through some pretty heavy shit…not dwell on it? We’ll have lots of time to talk about things. When I have you and Millie somewhere. But right now? With everything else going on?”

“I’m just having a hard time. Wrapping my head around it. Why you’re being like this. Why you’re being so calm and understanding and…”

“Because I love you.”

“But I don’t deserve that. I don’t…”

“Because I love you,” he sternly repeats. “I always have. I always will. And one day, I hope you believe me when I say that.”

“I do believe. It’s just that…”

“I have never hated you. I never could. And believe me, you deserve EVERYTHING. You deserve the world. And I would give it to you if I could. But I am asking…no, I am BEGGING you…to please let this go. Just for right now. Because as much as I do love you, I can’t do this right now. Not with everything else going on.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. So neurotic and annoying and…”

“Esme…” With one hand on the nape of her neck and another on the small of her back, he draws her tightly into him. “…I need you to take a breath, okay? Take a breath and listen to what I’m saying to you. Can you do that?”

Nodding, she wraps her arms around his waist and rests her forehead against his chest. Her eyes closing as one of his palms rubs her back in slow, comforting circles.

“I don’t hate you. I never have. I love you. I will always love you. And I know it’s been a shit day and it’s not even close to being over with. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover in a very short period of time. And I know what happened this morning completely freaked you out; having to hear the gunshots and Millie losing it like she was. But I need to just take a breath and get yourself together. For BOTH of us. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Because I’m not handling all of this very well. I’ve got a lot dumped in my lap. Just in the last twelve hours alone. I can’t do this by myself. Be the only one to keep it together. We need to be in this together. Or we’re not going to get out of here. Not alive anyway.”

“I’m scared,” she admits, her hands desperately clinging to the back of his t-shirt. “I never used to be like this. THIS afraid of things. Not when it came to the job. And now…”

“That’s ‘cause this time it’s personal. This isn’t just some job. You’re a mum now. And your baby is in danger. I’d be worried if you weren’t scared.”

“I can’t lose her. She’s everything that’s amazing and beautiful and perfect in my life. She’s all I had of you for the longest time. The only connection between us. And if something happens to her…”

“Nothing is going to happen to her. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt her. And I’m going to get her somewhere safe and…”

“You have to promise me, Tyler…” She looks up at him with tearful, pleading eyes. “If you can only save one of us, it has to be Millie. It HAS to be.”

“Esme, don’t. Don’t talk like that. Don’t…”

“I’ve had a good life. That time I spent with you? It was the happiest I’ve ever been. And the five I’ve years I’ve had of being your daughter’s mother…”

“Don’t do this. Because this is starting to sound an awful lot like goodbye. So please don’t finish what you’re about to say.”

“She is the most amazing gift anyone could have ever given me. You made me a mom. And it has been everything I’ve ever wanted. SHE’S been everything I ever wanted. But if for some reason you can’t help both of us…”

“Esme…please…”

“No!” she snaps, and glares up at him in defiance. “Let me finish! Let me say this! Just give me this!”

Tyler relents; chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek as he waits for her to continue. His heart aches; hearing the desperation in her voice and seeing the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the quivering of her bottom lip and chin. He’s never been able to handle it; seeing desperation and heartache so clearly etched upon her face. And it’s much more intense now; a fierce and devoted mother that would gladly give up her life to save that of her child.

“You HAVE to choose her. She’s a baby still. YOUR baby. If something happens to me, she’d at least have you. Her dad. She has a long life ahead of her. With YOU. So promise me; if you have to make a choice, you’ll choose her.”

“Don’t make me do this. Please. I can’t…”

“I love you, Tyler. Sometimes I swear I loved you from the moment I met you. And there hasn’t been a single moment in the last five years where I haven’t loved you; where I haven’t missed you and wanted to be with you. And I want what we didn’t the first time around; the happily ever after and the always and forever. But if that can’t happen, please tell me you’ll pick her. And that you’ll protect her and love her and take care of her.”

“I already DO love her. I already would protect her. At all costs. But…”

“No ‘buts’, okay? I need to know that you’d choose her. And give her a long life. I already know you’re going to be an amazing dad. Look how much you adore her already. Please promise you’ll pick her. IF it comes down to that.”

Swallowing noisily around the lump of motion sitting square in his throat, he gives a curt nod.

“No. You have to say. You have to say it for it to be true. Promise me, Tyler.”

“I promise. If I have to, I’ll pick Millie.”

Giving a shaky smile, she once more embraces him; affectionately rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his t-shirt before laying her head on his chest. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I haven’t done anything. Not yet.”

“You’ve done more than you realize. You saved me. In every way a person can be saved.”

“Esme, I…”

“And thank you for her.” She gives him a tight, loving squeeze. “Especially for her.”