#lord knows there's too much of it just sitting here buried in my files

[millenniummmbop]

.

[hotpocketpena]

You don’t get to walk out on me again

Notes: Please be v patient w me. I have not written anything since Dionsaurs were alive so I’m very rusty!

OK so I’m obvi obsessed with Mr sexy Pena so I had to make my first about him. He is the loml and i have frequent dreams about this dreamy man that will eventually turn into posts so oopsie. 

I hope ya’ll enjoy n lemme know what u tink ;)

ps. I am terrible with Spanish (ltrlly just used google translate pls no attack)

Overview - Reader x Javier were in a long term relationship, but things got messy and the relationship ended. Reader has now moved on but can’t completely move on because Javi wont let her go. 

Use of Y/N

Word Count - 2.8k+

Warnings - Swearing

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

You sit at your desk, using the useless files as a makeshift fan. The Colombian heat has not been kind to any of you in the office today. It also didn’t help that he had been staring you down for the majority of the day. 

Javier couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was like a moth to a very, sweaty but beautiful flame. He watched with such awe as you fanned yourself with files that are useless to your investigation with Escobar. 

Things didn’t end well between you both. 

There were underlining problems with Javi’s commitment issues, you knew this before getting involved with him. You really tired to not be another notch in his beat. But my lord, that man is irresistible. It only took 4 days for him to have his way with you. 

4 days of little flirtatious winks here and there. 4 days of wearing extremely tight pants just so you would look at his ass. Even though they made him the most uncomfortable he’s ever been, he didn't care. He wanted you, and he was willing to go to circulation-cutting lengths to have you. 

Aside from the blood cutting off in his legs and a few remarks from his partner Steve, it was nothing. He’d done much worse for girls with much less beauty than you. But was it all worth it?

Why did he make a fool out of himself for someone that just threw him away like a piece of trash? He asks himself this question everyday since you left him standing alone in his apartment. He thought about running after you and demanding to know why you were doing this to him. Why after him opening up to you about his past, would you just run out when things got a little tough?

“Will you just go over and talk to her Pena?” Javi was snapped out of the thoughs running around in his head. His blonde haired partner decided to but in on his private life once again. 

Javier wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and grunted. “Will you just shut the fuck up Murphy. I don’t need to have this conversation with you again.” He certainly didn’t want to even think about you, never mind talk to his loved up partner about how shitty his love life had been. 

Steve sighed. “I hate seeing you two like this Pena. You two were so goo-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Javi stood up from his chair. 

Steve had pissed him off too much over the last two weeks. Constantly pestering him to go over and speak to you. Just ask you the simple question of why? 

But, Javier Pena was the most stubborn man in the whole of Colombia.

He was glad Steve pissed him off so much. He finally had an excuse to leave the office and not waste another look at you. He needed to bury himself deep in something. Drink or whores. Or her. 

He shook that last thought away and went to the bathroom to splash some water over his face. It calmed him down, but he wish he stayed in there longer. His fists clenched and his eyes were seeing red. 

He saw you, and your new boyfriend of three weeks, Marizio from intelligence, leaning over your desk and whispering something in your ear. 

That used to be him. He was the one that would whisper all the dirty things he’d want to do to you while you were working. He was the one that would make you blush like that. Make you feel things you’ve never felt before in your life. 

Javier couldn’t move. He was like stone, his eyes locked on the small boy leaning on your desk. 

You laughed and held onto Marizio’s shoulder as you stood up. You were done with work for the weekend, hoping to leave the troubles of the DEA behind and enjoy a relaxing weekend with your new boyfriend. 

The honeymoon stage was in full swing. You never wanted to come out of it with Maritzio. If only it could stay like this forever. It’s only been a few weeks since he first asked you out, but you’re glad he did. 

You were a nervous wreck on your first date. You hadn’t been out with another man since him. But Maritzio wasn’t like him. 

He was kind, sweet and caring. 

He never treated you in a harsh way like someone else did. After your first date, he walked you back to your apartment complex and gave you a light kiss on the cheek goodnight. 

You were used to the night ending in yours or his bed, screaming each others names until you lost your voices. But with Maritzio, he was a gentleman. 

So when the time came around for his birthday, you thought he would decline the invitation from Steve to go to their favourite bar after work. And to your surprise, he said yes. 

If Steve was going to be there, you knew he was going to be there. Any mention of alcohol he was always going to be there. 

Maritzio knew about your past relationship struggles. He didn’t know exactly who with, but he knew it was someone within the DEA. He was very calm about it, not in the slightest concerned about anything happening while you were together. 

A few days after your second date, you got very drunk and called Maritzio. You meant to dial someone else's number to help you with the pain of heartbreak, but he was the one that broke it. So when Maritzio came rushing over, you spilled your guts. 

You told him how the last relationship you were in, you were completely in love with a person who wasn’t real. They were a mask. And behind the mask was a harsh monster. That monster came out the longer you two were together. You’d put up with the monster for so long, it got too much, so you left. 

Maritzio held you for the rest of the night, and offered to sleep on the couch so you wouldn’t be alone. This was one of the best nights sleep you had since you left him.

You and Martizio decided to go to the bar straight after work, to start the celebrations early. A few of the other agents had the same idea. It was about two hours before anyone else arrived, and you were pretty hammered. 

You and two other agents were engrossed in conversation when a large cheer erupted from the bar. 

Murphy and he walked into the bar with cases of beers and balloons. 

Maritzio headed over to thank them. Murphy pulled him in for a hug, but Pena gave him a clipped nod and made a dart for the bar. 

You mingled some more and decided on another drink. You needed to have as much as possible if you were to be in a different environment other than work with HIM. 

You ordered 2 shots of Tequila and a jack and coke. Once your drinks were ready, you took the two shots one after the other and headed to your seat.

“Tequila makes you sick y’know.” Pena muttered while drinking the last of his whiskey. 

Sober you, would just ignore him. Sober you. would walk over to your caring boyfriend and spend time with him. 

Sober you wouldn’t be stupid. 

But sober you, is locked in a cage and drunk you has swallowed the key. 

You spun dramatically on your heel, and look Javier in the eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.

“It doesn’t actually make me sick anymore. It makes me more fun.” You giggled, taking your seat back at the bar and ordering another two shots. 

“Bebita, the only thing that makes you more fun is water.” He chuckled, ordering a bottle of water. 

“Hey!” You pointed a finger at him as serious as you could. Your finger couldn’t exactly stay on Pena, but you put all your focus into it. “Don’t use Spanish on me. You k-know I don’t know t-those funky words.” Hiccups were the worst for you when you were drunk. 

Javi’s eyes softened, just loving the sound of your voice. He somehow forgot what it sounded like. And now he remembers, it sounds like sweet honey. 

“Matitzio i-is teaching me! So s-say that word to me again in t-three months and I’ll know it all!” You cheered, sliding one of the shots over to Javier to take with you. 

Javier’s eyes hardened at the mention of his name. He didn’t want to hear another mans name come out of your lips, other than his. 

He hated Tequila, but if this is the only way for you to keep talking to him, he will do this. 

You both took the shot. Javier’s face creased with disgust at the liquid. You laughed at his expression. He had a small droplet of Tequila in the corner of his mouth. Out of habit, you leaned over and swiped your thumb over the bead. 

You froze when you realised what you were doing, and so did he. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t even be near him. 

Sober you had broken free from her cage, and she was ready to run. “I u-uh, need to go to the bathroom.” You stuttered, carefully jumping from the barstool and making a quick escape to the bathroom. 

How could you be so stupid! You knew what talking to him would lead to! You are happy with Javier! You mean Maritzio!

Even your brain was thinking of him. This needed to stop. 

You run quickly into the bathroom, the Tequila finally hitting you. It feels like hours but you make it to the bathroom, hurling up the contents of your stomach. 

“Y/n? Are you in there?” You hear Javier banging on the door for the ladies bathroom. 

“Go away” you mutter loud enough so he could hear you. “I don’t want to see you,”

A few seconds go by and nothing. You continue to be sick, and feel someone holding your hair back. 

This, this is why you should not have Tequila. But you just couldn’t help yourself. It’s the only drink that makes you the drunkest, the quickest. You skip past all of the other stages, like the awkward dancing stage, the overly loud and wants to talk to everyone stage, and jump straight to the confident & sassy stage. But, the quicker you get to that stage, the big final stages edges closer than you want. The vomiting in the bathroom and feeling violently ill stage. Everybody wishes that stage did not exist. 

“It’s okay baby, let it all out.” A soft voice sooths your nerves and a hand rubs small circles on your back, coxing you to get everything out. “Shhhh, I’m here. I did tell you that Tequila makes you throw up.” The voice chuckles at the end, making you very aware who is holding you. 

You slowly sit up from the floor and walk out from the enclosed stall. Your head is spinning at a million miles an hour. Why did he follow you? 

You don’t look at Javier. You can’t. There’s too much pain, too much history between you. You will never be able to recover from him. Never be able to fully move on. 

“You need to stop this. You need to leave me alone.” You whisper, the liquid courage taking a step back. 

“I was not going to leave you to choke on your own vomit Y/n. I’m a lot of things, but letting you suffer alone? Nah, that’s not something I’m ok with.” He huffs, pacing the bathroom area. 

“Oh, that’s not something you’re ok with? Right, well I’m just slightly confused.”

“How’s that?” He asks, raising his brows. 

“Well I mean, you’re very ok with causing me pain and suffer the last time I checked.” Liquid courage is back and ready to put up a fight. 

You cross your arms and lean against the wall near the door. Keeping as much difference between you as possible. This fight has been brewing inside the both of you since the day you both parted ways. 

The huffs and puffs in the office when you both got assigned to the same case. The clear protest from Pena when the ambassador gave you praise for the missions and he got little. The looks of lust and love when the other one of you wasn’t looking. 

It needed to all end here. It was now or never. 

“I think it’s the other way around Bebita.” Javier sighed, leaning one leg behind him and balancing himself on the wall in front of you. “You were the one that left me to suffer alone in my apartment.” 

“I cannot believe you are bringing this up now!” You shout, loud enough to get some attention from the party goers. But you don’t care. 

“When else was I supposed to bring it up huh? I’m sorry did I miss our regularly scheduled morning feelings meetings!” He holds his hands to his mouth. “Oh my god I can’t believe I missed those! I’ll have to get Steve to fill me in later!” The sarcasm was dripping from his mouth, clearly taking this whole conversation as a joke. 

“Fuck you Pena.” That’s all you could say. He was always like this. Never took anything seriously, only cared about his job and beer. 

You push yourself off the wall and reach for the door handle. Javier grabs your waist and spins you, pushing you back up against the wall again. “You do not get to walk out on me again.” Your foreheads almost touch. If you leaned in, your lips would be touching. 

You breathe in and take in his scent. Beer and nicotine is the smell you’ve been craving the most. Maritzio smells like lavender. Which is not a bad thing at all. You actually like the smell of Lavender. But what you miss is the smell of Javier. You miss everything about him. 

“I can’t do this Javi.” You squeak. “I’m with Marit-”

“Please don’t say his name. I only want you to say my name.” 

His words shock you. “I don’t want to hurt him Javi. Please.”

He takes a small step forward, closing the gap between your chests. The tension is thick in the air, just gasping for some relief. 

“But you want to hurt me baby? Do you want to put me through all that pain again?” he whispers, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck. 

“I never intended to hurt you Javi, but you hurt me by not being there. He is there for me. You weren’t.” You sigh. 

He plants faint kisses on your neck which send tingles into places that haven’t tingled for a while. You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall, allowing him more access. He moves from your neck up to the shell of your ear. 

“But I will be.” He whispers, the pain clear in his voice. “I will be there for you until you want me. And even if you don't want me baby, I will be waiting until you do. These last few months have been the worst of my life. I have made the biggest mistake of my life by choosing work over you my sweat girl. I promise, if you leave that boy and give me another chance, I will promise to love you until the end of time.”

A tear runs from your eyes and Javi is quick to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry baby. I don’t want to upset you, again.” He pouts, not knowing how else to fix the situation. 

“Javi, that’s all I’ve ever wanted you to say. Just that you acknowledge that I’m here and that you have something else in your life other than work. I hated myself when I left you, but I’m glad I did. Because if Id’ve stayed, you would not be standing here telling me all of this.” You said, looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like years. 

“Well, we wouldn’t be standing in a bathroom you just threw your guts up in because you drank too much tequila.” He rolls his eyes and tuts. 

You lean forward and shove him back playfully, earning a cheeky grin from him. 

“You’re right. If you didn’t leave me, I wouldn’t have realise how special you are Mi Amore. And I want to be yours again, if you’ll have me.” His big brown doe eyes look softly into yours. 

Another tear slips from your eyes, but this time, they're tears of joy. “And I want to be your-” He swoops you up in his arms and plants peck and peck all over your face. You giggle until he puts you down. 

“I promise to cherish you until the end of time my angel. I will always love you.” 

[leviiattacks]

I loved Ceo Levi so can I request Ceo Levi comforting the reader because she’s in financial trouble? Idk the plot it’s up to you but that sort of idea. I hope it’s not too much of a bother!! Also happy birthday ❤️

author note :: very rushed and not that great at all but i hope it’s enjoyable anon !! also thank u for the birthday wish <333 if you’d like for me to idk expand on this request you can always request again my ask box is open !! <33333 word count :: 1.5k

levi’s worried about you

like super worried

ultra worried

mega, super, ultra worried?????

all the synonyms for large aren’t enough to explain how distracted he is whilst he stares at you from across the table.

the entire team meeting today you’ve sat down with a glazed expression, you’re clearly out of it and don’t want to be present

on a few occasions he notices you gnaw at your lips anxiously and your eyes shift everywhere showing you’re clearly uncomfortable

team meetings are normally two hours long on a monday to discuss production plans extensively but levi can’t even make it to the thirty minute mark before he’s dismissing everyone

“we’re ending early i don’t feel well.”

mr ackerman letting the team leave early again... it’s the second time he’s done it now but HEY, the employees have no complaints!!

levi knows something’s bothering you when you don’t move an inch from your seat

you probably haven’t even heard what he said about leaving because you’re so zoned out

now,,,,levi’s never really been big on physical contact and he’s not great at comforting or using words either but he still double checks the door is locked so he can speak to you privately

you start sobbing as soon as the sound of the door clicks

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he’s cautious in his approach but places a hand on top of yours gently to test the waters

but you only start crying even more ?!?,!,

which panics him because oh my god what did he do...???,?.

did he do something wrong???

you know what, he’s just going to copy what people do in the movies and hope it goes well

your sobs echo through the room and he thanks himself that the cement walls are definitely thick enough for you to not be heard by your colleagues

slowly but gradually you get a grip and it almost looks like you have to force yourself to a halt midway just to wipe the tears at your eyes

it’s at times like these that levi thanks you for having an expressive face because he would hate to not notice you felt this horrible

“i suggest you carry on if you haven’t got it all out yet. from personal experience it’s better when someone sits with you.”

levi’s warm words embrace you and you look at his arms then his heat pressed suit. he’s in a completely different world compared to you and a feeling of sickness soon overpowers the warm feeling in your chest

why are you sitting here and crying like a pathetic fool in front of your boss??

ok, maybe he’s a little more personal than a boss you aren’t sure what he really is but that doesn’t matter

“y/n, i have something to say.”

FUCK. this is it. you’ll be fired for being unprofessional and improper. this is IT. the end of your professional career.

you want to run out of this room at full speed and hurl yourself out of one of the windows never to be seen again...

but,, you won’t do that, that’s embarrassing

instead you steel yourself and look at him with as much courage as you can muster (which to be clear is not very much)

“if you ever need to take a day off for mental health reasons you’ve always been allowed to so please feel free to take the rest of the day off if you’d like.”

he’s... not firing you?

“but before that, would you like to let me know what’s happened? can i maybe help?”

you purse your lips feeling the premature humiliation

he can help, anyone with as much money as him can but you don’t want him to aid you. the guilt would eat you away

but you do want to confide in him and tell him what’s wrong

you want to tell someone about it at least

“i’ve been evicted from my apartment” your voice is barely above a whisper and levi just looks at you mouth agape

he pays you enough to live comfortably

how could you be getting evicted?

“i have to pay for my mother’s medical expenses so it’s stressful i send most of my earnings hom-”

levi shushes you with his input. “i’ll pay off the debt so you don’t be evicted and i’ll also give you a pay rise.”

at that you’re just pure shocked

is he even thinking right now???

because this isn’t the strong willed strategic business man you know

“no??? i can’t leech off of you??”

“you’re not leeching. i am investing in you.”

you’re a little lost now but choose to hear him out

“you work for me already and i greatly value your work. now you’re in a tough position. correct?”

you nod your head in response

“and for you to still work for me you’ll need a home. correct?”

again you nod

“so allow me to pay off the debts. it’s for both of our benefit.”

that however really isn’t levi’s reasoning at all. he couldn’t care less about that, he just doesn’t want to see you shoulder the pain and stress of it all alone

staring at him teary eyed you sniffle

“would you-” your voice cracks and you cough “really???”

you look so desperate and vulnerable and levi feels frustrated for not spotting the warning signs of your struggle any sooner

you had been coming to the office looking more restless, you had been drinking more coffee and despite the excessive caffeine consumption he still caught you dozing off at your desk at least four times

he places a hand on the centre of your back and pats you three times as if you’re members on the same ship

“yes i mean it, take it easy.”

his simple sentence is enough to cause all of your rational thinking to jump away and you drag him in by the neck into a tight hug

you’re ugly crying and you know you’ll look back on this in embarrassment but your mind works on impulse, you’re unable to stop it

usually levi doesn’t like anyone messing up his suits but he can make an exception for you. he’s sure your tears have left a moist patch but he’s not mad. hell, even if you get snot on his expensive dress shirt he’ll be okay with it

“is there any way i can pay you back mr ackerman?”

he winces at the formality of your tone

“call me levi.”

your brows raise at the request

“that’s what i want in return. for you to call me levi.”

????

that’s all???

“oh, well thank you levi. i’m grateful...”

his name rolls off your tongue awkwardly the first few times and even he regrets asking you to call him by his first name

but three days later you’re walking in breezily. a pen is tucked behind your ear and you’re double checking levi’s spending sheet with a calculator in your hands.

levi literally STOPS breathing because you look so refreshed today and the colour is back on your face. you look your best when you’re stress free.

and then you say it

“levi, do you think you could spend a bit less on tea bags because OH MY LORD???”

he notices there’s no longer an air of discomfort to his name and his chest swells happily

“y/n, give me ONE good reason to not spend my money that way??”

you notice how he easily he says your first name with an airy chuckle and you could almost... ALMOST... swear the two of you are flirting

to anyone observing with no sound he looks as nonchalant as normal but really the tone of his voice is implying the suggestive nature of conversation

“maybe you should spend your money on other things you like?” your suggestion is thrown back in your face when levi scoffs choking back a laugh

“i already am spending my money on other interests of mine.”

turning to face him and to hand him a file of paperwork you look him right in the eyes

“and what interests would those be?”

levi’s gaze meander down to your lips before shooting back up to your eyes and you swear you feel a tingle in the pit of your stomach

“i’ll let you figure that out on your own. you’re smart enough.”

you’re gaping at that reply because how are you meant to know???

but, the answer to your question is far more obvious than you think.

and it’s only after work whilst you’re eating dinner that you’re able to connect the dots

he was, talking about...you??

gasping you flush bright pink and bury your face into one of your sofa’s pillows

no way, there’s no way that happened

oh no, but there really is a way

and that way is levi ackerman ;-)

[asmo-ds]

Hi, I really love your content which leads me to request a Satan soulmate fluff wherein Satan's internal voice is MC's voice and vice versa. So, when MC got summoned in Devildom, the moment they heard each other's voices, they already knew that they are meant for each other. I apologize if it's a bit confusing. 😔 Lastly, have a nice day and stay healthy! 🌺

Your Soulmate’s Voice 

Lil bit of angst, but mostly Fluff :)

A/N: I know you said fluff but my small brain started typing and completely forgot the genre and made the first half of this v angsty because Satan is such deep character it felt wrong to just have him immediately accept MC as his soulmate without an inner battle, so the fluff is more towards the last half of the fic. Also ily thank u for requesting <3

Description: A soulmate AU where your inner voice is your soulmate’s outer voice. Satan and MC have lived hearing each other’s voices for as long as they can remember, which is why they immediately recognize each other when MC is suddenly summoned to the Devildom

How, he often asked out loud, late at night when he ran out of books to read and was left to his own devices. How does a malicious, angry, demon like me have a soulmate with such an angelic voice? 

Since he had been born from the wrath of his eldest brother, he had been hearing this voice that spoke his thoughts to him. Why can’t I just hear my own voice, why do I have to hear someone else?

Lucifer had explained to him that the voice was his soulmate and one day he’d hear the voice through his ears rather than just in his head. That made Satan feel giddy, as a young child who couldn’t wait for the future.

Over the years, he began to feel guilty as the voice remained kind and careful, and his only grew angrier and rougher. He worried he’d hurt his soulmate with his wrath and he began to avoid going out, he didn’t want to hurt the voice’s owner like he’d hurt so many others. He didn’t want to have to see fear in their eyes whenever he’d lose his temper or even look at them with resting bitch face. So he decided he was best off just hearing it in his head for the rest of his immortal life. 

He read and read day and night, drinking in their speech patterns, from the soft graceful syllables to the occasional voice cracks, he relished in every word that wanders through his mind, not because of what it said but because he knew the voice saying them was the only person who would ever embrace him, wrath and all.

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

MC had always been a bit of a daydreamer, they’d known since they were quite young about soulmates and the voice in their head. 

They daydreamed about marriage, about the future, about who their soulmate could be and how they’d meet.

The voice was innocent enough at first, but then it matured and it became deeper and more rough. It failed to change the way MC thought of him though. They fell in love with his voice as a kid and they promised to love it for the rest of their life. 

As their friends grew and found their own soulmates, MC began to grow nervous. Perhaps whatever greater power controlled the events of their life had decided to single MC out and play a cruel joke of never letting them meet their soulmate, no matter how far they looked. 

They were constantly told “You’ll find him” or “If you hear his voice he’s gotta be somewhere on Earth, you’re bound to find each other eventually.”

But nothing anyone say could have prepared them for this. For the day they arrived in Hell and heard the familiar voice speak up,

“Hmph. At least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?” The blond owner of said voice responded to Asmodeus’s whining about the way Lucifer introduced him.

MC had yet to speak. They couldn’t bring themselves to, not trusting their own voice. They attempted to after a few moments only to let out a tiny squeak, audible to nobody but themselves.

Satan suddenly noticed their gaping mouth and tilted his head, “is there something wrong? I hope Lucifer here did not scare you, he is a pretty cruel man,” he smirked, knowing he was getting under Lucifer's skin with every condescending word that slipped past his lips. Hearing the voice speak AND seeing lips move in sync with the words was surreal.

‘‘Satan!” the raven haired man scolded. Satan. Their soulmate was Satan. All they could do was stare in his eyes, scared to speak up, scared of how he’d react to finding out his soulmate was but a mere human with a plain boring life. If the universe was going to pick a human for Satan himself, why would they chose them? Why someone so boring when there were royals in the human realm who would much better fit the role of a demon lord’s bride.

Suddenly their cheeks felt wet, and as they blinked their vision blurred with salty tears that ran down their cheeks. Happy tears, of course, but all the noble demon men that were surrounding them had no idea what had made them cry, leading to a panicked look between the prince and his right hand man, who seemed to them glare daggers to Satan for making the exchange student cry within the first fifteen minutes of their arrival.

Satan smiled a bit, angering Lucifer is what he does best and he’s proud of himself for making the lousy human cry so easily. He saw them close their eyes and take a deep breath, ready to finally speak up.

“Hi,” they started, opening an eye to watch as his widened, “I’m MC, it is an honor to meet you Satan, I-” they were cut off by the door slamming. They looked up and the blond was gone, everyone else staring at the door in shock.

“Well, I hoped that would go much better,” Diavolo said to Barbatos, who gave a sad nod in return.

“I apologize MC I do not know what got into him, he can be moody and I wouldn’t worry about him so much while you’re here,” Lucifer bowed as an apology to the human, humiliated by his brother’s lack of composure.

“Lucifer... I meant to mention this to you sooner, but I thought perhaps this would reveal their connection,” Diavolo started. “When I was looking at their file I noticed that the universe had assigned them a demon soulmate, curious I dug further and found it was Satan, which is why I gave them spot in our exchange program.”

As the men conversed, truths being revealed and shock evident on some of the others’ faces, MC stood staring at the door. 

I guess he really is humiliated to know his soulmate is an average human, they thought, I shouldn’t be so surprised I suppose. 

They began to walk, none of the others taking notice as they left the room, too focused on Diavolo who was explaining the circumstances. 

They walked and kept walking, ignoring the demons who were watching them in awe, a stray human brave enough to walk through the Devildom on their own.

But MC didn’t care. Their heart was broken and they didn’t care. They had waited so long to meet someone who would love them. They remained hopeful because of the voice in their head, reminding them their was someone out there that would love them and all their flaws.

“Well, aren’t you brave?” A strange demon asks, snapping MC out of their thoughts and causing the reality and fear of their location to set in. “A little human shouldn’t be walking around alone like this, especially looking so yummy,” he continues licking his lips as his eyes scan MC head to toe like they were a feast.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry, I’m sure you won’t mind me having a bite-” he reaches his clawed hands towards MC’s arm, but a stronger one with green claws pulls MC away and against their body, his other one having a vice grip on the creepy demon.

“Lay a finger on my human and I won’t hesitate to gut you and display your mutilated body to the whole Devildom,” the familiar voice said, leading MC to feel more relaxed in his grip, despite his violent words.

“A-ah my lord I’m so sorry! I had no idea this human belonged to you, please forgive me, I swear I’ll never even breathe in their direction again,” the lesser demon cowered, sinking to his knees, begging to be spared from the cruel fate Satan had promised him.

Without a word, Satan turned, tossing MC over his shoulder, ignoring their protests as he returned the house of lamentation with them.

He passes their room and goes straight to his, placing them gently on his bed.

“Satan I-” MC is interrupted by strong arms enveloping them in a warm comforting embrace.

“I can’t believe I’ve had you for an hour and already almost got you killed,” he sighs, burying his face in their hair, tears forming out of frustration.

MC suddenly pulls away from him, standing up in and walking towards the door, “Let’s start over,” they say before entering the hallway and closing the door behind them.

Confused Satan sits and stares at the door. He hears MC politely knock so he gets up to answer it.

When he opens the door he is greeted by a smiling human, “Hi! I’m MC I’m the new exchange student at RAD and will be living with you for a year! I hope we can get along in that time! Oh by the way I’m also your soulmate haha,” they laugh throughout trying to introduce themselves.

“Oh my Diavolo you are so cheesy,” Satan is barely able to contain his laughter as he pulls them into his room, twirling them around in a tight embrace, taking in their warmth and sighing happily.

“All jokes aside,” they quietly whisper as Satan sits back down with them still in his hold, “Why did you run? Is it because I’m a normal human and not special like you were probably expecting? If it is I’m sorry and I really do understand if you want me to leave you alone. I mean your one of the most powerful demons ever and I’m just... I’m just me!” MC looks down at their hands, which Satan now held in his own.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m the embodiment of wrath and all my life I’ve been afraid knowing that such a sweet and gentle voice could be ruined because of my temper.” 

“Satan...” they put a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to their own. They open their mouth to speak but nothing comes out, so they opt to show what they’re thinking physically instead.

Their soft lips land on his own slightly chapped ones, a soft chaste kiss that leaves both parties with wide smiles.

“I’m so happy to have you in our home dear exchange student,” he chuckles before leaning into another kiss, more passionate and filled with love than the last.

Knowing they trusted him not to hurt them gave him the confidence he needed and he couldn’t be more thankful.

[heywardsarchive]

If You Loved Me (Sirius Black)

Summary: sirius and y/n were the power couple, until they were not. Their loving relationship turned toxic. Will they be able to save it? Read to find out;)

Warnings: toxic relationship, kinda cheating but not really, injuries (nothing to graphic), angst, alcohol, I think that's it?

Word count: almost 4k

Pairing: Sirius Black x female! Reader

This is the request by fangirl_3004 on wattpad Hi I wanted to request a sirius one-shot where they are like 20 and have been working for the order and have been dating for a few years but he keeps flirting with other girls. So the reader and sirius get into a nasty fight and he says a bunch of mean things to her and they breakup but the reader gets badly injured in an order mission and the next day sirius realises how much he loves her and they make up.

a/n: a big thankyou to @iwritesiriusly​ and @tragically-here​/ @tragedy-of-sorts​ for proofreading this ❤

*****

All schools whether magical or not have that one couple who everyone thought would last forever, in Hogwarts, that couple was Sirius Black and y/n l/n.

Sirius Black had all the girls of the school wrapped around his finger but when y/n came along, Sirius was whipped, he was wrapped around her finger. They didn't start dating immediately no, Sirius had to prove himself before he managed to get a first date. And boy was he over the moon!

Their first date was simple, a picnic near the black lake (where the rest of the marauders were definitely spying on them) the skipped rocks on the water and just basked in each other's company, by the end of the date Sirius was convinced that he had found the woman he was going to marry one day.

He lay in his bed in the dormitory and gushed about the date to James, Remus and Peter. They pretended to fake gag and passed comments like , "oh no we've lost our pads to the other side, abort mission abort mission!" But they were truly happy that their friend had found someone who he loved and only hoped that she would give him the love that he doesn't get at home.

Soon they finished their seventh year at Hogwarts, it was bittersweet going home in the scarlet train for the last time in seven years, they would miss their school but their life had just begun. Sirius and y/n had been dating for about two years then and they decided to move in together, it was only fitting since they were utterly and truly in love and besides, sirius had inherited one of his uncle alphard's homes in London which was conveniently near where Lily and James were going to live.

Everything went swimmingly for a few years and in 1979 Lily and James got married in an intimate but beautiful ceremony. Everyone tried to stay happy in a time where things were dark. The dark lord called voldemort was rising and gaining support, it was only a matter of time before a war broke out.

Lily, James, Remus, Peter, Sirius and y/n had joined the order of the pheonix, an organisation started to by Dumbledore in order to stop the growth of the dark lord.

But like they say not everyday is the same, sirius and y/n started growing apart, unnoticed by them too. Their weekly date nights started becoming monthly date nights, work commitments and other such things came in the way. Still everyone believed that they were meant to be.

"Sirius, I will be away for a week." Y/n told Sirius one night, she had been called for a rescue mission by the order, her medical skills were required. "Don't worry love, I'll be fine." He reassured her with a pat on the cheek.

Early the next morning, y/n had her things packed and she was ready to go. She kissed Sirius goodbye and apparated to Scotland.

That evening Sirius sat down on the sofa, and opened his work file. He tried to get his work done but his mind kept wandering. He sighed and shut his file and closed his eyes. It was pointless just sitting around and he thought he may as well enjoy his Friday night. All his friends were wrapped up in their own business and he didn't want to disturb them.

He put on his leather jacket, the one y/n had got for him on his seventeenth birthday, and headed out of the door. He walked the streets of London and wandered into a bar. A few drinks wouldn't hurt. He sat down at the bar table and drank a few shots. He looked around the room, it was crowded and reeked of alcohol. Couples stood there making out in the back and others danced in the middle with their sweaty bodies pressed against each other due to the lack of space.

As Sirius watched the scene, a pretty brunette girl with electric blue eyes walked up to him. "Care for a dance?" She looked him up and down and asked. Sirius was about to decline but then decided to go for it. What did he have to lose anyway? It wasn't like he was cheating or anything, it was just one dance right?

He allowed the girl to pull him to the dancefloor. There he drank a few more shots and danced like there was no tomorrow. Soon it was midnight, sirius decided it was time to leave. As he was about to head out, the girl who's name sirius did not know decided to kiss him. Sirius almost kissed back but then y/n's face flashed in his mind and he pulled away quickly. "I can't do this." He said almost hesitantly and rushed out of the club.

He sat down on the sidewalk and put his hand on his head. Sirius couldn't understand why he almost kissed back when he absolutely in love with y/n. He shook his head, stood up and apparated home. His head couldn't handle it along with the alcohol.

He spent the next week buried in work, trying to distract his mind from thoughts he wished he didn't have.

It was on Friday night when y/n finally returned. A distinct pop sound echoed through the room. Sirius rushed out to greet her. He was dressed messily, his hair tousled from laying on the bed and his shirt wrinkled. "Hello love, you're back." He smiled wrapping his arms around her in a hug. As he took in her familiar scent, he realised that what happened at tha bar was a mistake and there was nothing wrong with his love for the girl in his arms.

He pulled away to take in her appearance. She had a few cuts and bruises littering her arms and face, otherwise she looked fine. "How was the mission?" Sirius asked, his grey eyes brewing with concern.

"It was fine." Y/n shrugged. "Managed to get hold of a few death eaters and interrogate them." She pulled Sirius info another embrace and sighed. "it's good to be home." A simple statement such as that made sirius feel extremely guilty. He had to tell her what happened. Not then, soon. He would tell her.

Sirius spent many a sleepless night with the guilt eating him from inside. He decided that it was time he came clean.

He woke up before y/n the next morning and drank his coffee, and made her a cup too. Soon y/n came down the stairs rubbing her eyes tiredly. "You're up early." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before drinking a glass of water and eyeing him carefully. "What's wrong?"

Sirius looked up as though he had been snapped out of a trance. "Uh with me? Nothing. Why do you ask?" He stuttered nervously.

"Don't lie to me siri, I can read you like a book." She spoke with such tenderness in her eyes that sirius wanted to slap himself for being so stupid and almost kissing the blond girl back in the bar. Well, he had to tell her. It was now or never.

"Actually something is bothering me. Remember when you left for the mission a few weeks back?" Y/n nodded. "Well that night I went to a bar, because I was unable to concentrate and-"

"You're guilty because you went out to drink without me? Oh sirius that's nothing to worry about!" Y/n cut him off.

"No, that's not it. Let me continue. So I drank a few shots and got a bit tipsy and soon I ended up on the dance floor. Now, before you hear this I want you to know that I'm very guilty about what happened." At these words y/n's brows furrowed and she looked at sirius intently.

"I was about to leave when a blond girl who was dancing in the group I was in kissed me. I didn't kiss her back though-" Sirius defended himself.

A series of expressions flashed through y/n's face. First sadness, hurt and betrayal. "Did you think about kissing back?" She gripped the counter top hard, her knuckled turned white.

"I- I didn't kiss her back! Please understand y/n! I love you I would never hurt you this way." He tried to defend himself reaching out to hold her hand.

"No! Answer my question. Did you think of kissing back? Be honest." She looked firm and sirius knew he couldn't lie to her.

"I- ok yes I did. But I didn't. Your face flashed in my head and I couldn't bear to do anything more. So I pushed her away and left that instant." He said honestly. Sirius looked at y/n hoping that she'll forgive him, now that he was honest. But all he was met with was her steely gaze eyeing him sharply.

"I thank you for your honesty. I really do appreciate it. But the fact that you almost kissed her back speaks volumes. I think it's better that you give me some space to think." She spoke calmly. The calm before the storm. Sirius wished she yelled at him, and eventually forgave him but alas, that didn't happen.

**** July 1980

Lily and James were blessed with a beautiful baby boy whom they named Harry. He had his mother's stunning green eyes and his father's dark hair. He was the light that lit up a dark room, or in the case of the marauders and lily and y/n, their dark lives.

Things were not looking up for sirius and y/n's relationship. After y/n asked for space, she pondered over whether the relationship she had with Sirius was worth fighting for or not. She loved the man, ofcourse she did not know if he would stay faithful to her forever, that was just one incident. Who knows how many would occur? But eventually she gave in and decided to mend their broken relationship.

January 1981

The happiness of sirius and y/n's mending relationship didn't last long. In the order, Sirius was obviously the attraction of many single women, they all flirted with him hoping to catch his eye. He ignored their attempts at first, but after a fight with y/n over a trivial matter he decided to flirt back just to spite her.

Their relationship was getting toxic. Everyone could see it. Sirius and y/n would fight over small things and in retaliation, sirius would flirt with other girls. It became so bad after a point that the two of them wouldn't even look at each other for weeks at an end.

James, Remus and Lily were worried about their friends. Everyone thought that their fights would stop but it only got worse.

One day Lily and y/n had a girls day in (with Harry ofcourse, y/n loved her godson) and she voiced her concerns to the (h/c). "Im worried about you, love. All you and Sirius do is fight. And when you fight he goes out and flirts with other girls. Don't you think it's time you break things off with him? Or try fix your differences?" She reasoned placing a hand on her knee.

Y/n sighed and placed her head on top of Harry's, who was sitting on her lap. "I have thought about it ofcourse, but I still love him." "Even after everything I love him. And besides, if we break up what will happen to our friend group? I love you and James and Remus and Peter, it's just that I may never see you again if we separate." "And if I'm being honest, I still have a small bit of hope that the old sirius will return, the one I fell in love with."

Lily pulled the girl into a hug. She was sobbing at this point and Lily wanted nothing more than to end her hurting. "Talk to him. Make him understand, if you can't leave him, try to get him to understand." She said still holding y/n in a hug.

She sniffed. "You're right. I'll talk to him."

*******

June 1981

Y/n never did get around to talking to Sirius. She kept putting it off and avoiding the topic as much as she could. Everytime she would meet Lily, she would tell her the same thing and y/n gave the same reply. "I will, eventually."

Disaster fell upon the group when the dark lord decided that Harry was the baby who was destined to kill him. Since he was on the lookout for James and Lily, they had to go into hiding. Peter was made the secret keepers, the world belived it was sirius but no one knew of the real secret keeper.

The order was on high alert and most of the members were killed or in hiding. The last few remaining were Remus, y/n, Peter and Sirius among others. Due to this, sirius and y/n didn't have much time to fight with each other which was a nice change to their lives.

It all came crashing down once again when Dumbledore approached y/n to go on a mission, a dangerous one to find out who the traitor in the order was. She agreed, anything to figure out who the awful human was who decided to give information about lily and James and pose a threat to their safety. She graciously agreed.

Sirius was furious when he got to know that she agreed to such a dangerous mission. "Are you insane?!" He slammed the door shut. He was running his fingers angrily through his dark hair. "What do you mean?" Y/n asked him.

"You took the mission bloody well knowing it was a suicide mission. You won't survive this!" He slammed his fist on the table.

"Oh so now you care about me?" Y/n slammed her book shut and stood up and jabbed her finger in his chest. "After so long! Did you not care about me earlier? When you flirting with all those girls!" She screamed, equally fumed.

"STOP CHANGING THE TOPIC!" Sirius yelled.

"All we do is fight Sirius, I can't take it anymore." Y/n replied in a small voice.

"What?" Sirius asked, his anger melting away. "What do you mean?"

"I think it's better if we just end it. Right here. Right now. It's best for both of us." Her voice broke.

"No you can't, you can't just walk away!" Sirius cried out. But y/n didn't reply. She shook her head and apparated away. It was then when Sirius allowed him to think about all the months they spent fighting and it hit him of how bad a boyfriend he had been.

*****

October 1981

Four months. That's how long it had been since y/n walked away from sirius that day. Three months since she went on the mission to find out who the traitor was. Sirius was broken without her. He couldn't meet his best friend, and so the only person left was Remus who was probably tired of hearing Sirius repent for his mistakes.

Sirius regretted everything he had said to y/n everyday since she left. He barely left his house, he had become the shell of the man he once was and it was all his fault. He wondered if she was as hurt as he was, but another part of him hoped she was doing okay, he never wanted to break her heart which he swore to himself he would keep forever. He kept an eye out for letters from Dumbledore, or anyone for that matter hoping to get a shred of information of where y/n was and if she was safe, well as sage as she could be.

As for y/n, she apparated to her parents house after she left sirius in their house. She cried herself to sleep for a week but once she had no tears left to cry, she decided that it wasn't worth crying over someone who didn't appriciate her worth. She started preparing for her mission and spending as much time as she could with her parents because there was a chance she would not return in one piece from the mission.

******

Finally a few days later on October 27 1981, he recieved a letter from Dumbledore telling him that it was urgent and that Sirius had to arrive at the location with Remus that very instant.

The two of them arrived at the order safe house a few minutes later and rushed in. "What's the matter professor? Is everything alright?" Remus questioned but sirius' eyes were fixed on the bed in one of the bed rooms where he could see y/n's figure resting on the bed.

"What happened to her?" Sirius questioned urgently interrupting whatever conversation was going on between Remus and Dumbledore. "Ah. I knew you would ask. Well, y/n figured out who the traitor was but unfortunately she was cornered and attacked in an isolated alley, there were no eyewitness and so there is no way to know who did it to her."

Sirius' eyes widened and he was about to go rushing to y/n's side, but Dumbledore stopped him by placing a hand on his wrist. "Don't you want to know who the traitor was?" Dumbledore asked. Sirius and Remus nodded. "Peter." Dumbledore looked disappointed.

"Peter!" Remus cried out in disbelief. "How could he do such a thing? We trusted him with our life!"

"Im going to kill him. Look what he did to her!" Sirius said angrily.

"You don't have to." Dumbledore started. "Y/n already took care of him. When she found out what he did, she cursed him and he's now in ministry authority."

With that Dumbledore left. Sirius and Remus stood there staring holes into the ground. "Do you think, she'll forgive me?" Sirius asked Remus sadly. "I think I realised how much I love her after she left me." He gulped. "You dug yourself in this hole, now you get yourself out." Remus clapped his shoulder and entered the room where she lay, unconscious.

Sirius stood outside for a while before he decided to enter the room. There was healer with her who kept an eye on her heart rate. "Whats happening madam?" He asked the woman. She sighed and rubbed a hand against her forehead. "Hard to say, she was attacked pretty badly. She may remain in this comatose state for a week, a month, she may not even make it."

The words died in sirius' throat. Not make it? She couldn't just die? Y/n was the strongest woman he knew. He couldn't live with himself if the last conversation they had was them fighting. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sat down beside her bed. He held her hand and observed her face. The sunlight fell on her face and highlighted her features. He pushed away a bit of hair from her face and took in his peaceful y/n looked albeit she was covered in cuts and bruises.

*****

December 1981

It had been two months since Peter had been outed as a traitor and in those two months. Y/n was still unconscious and Sirius spent most of his waking hours by her bedside. With the help of veratuserum, Peter had confessed the names of all other death eaters and voldemort's plans. Dumbledore and the aurors were able to figure out a way to kill him and succeeded.

Once it was safe, Lily and James along with Harry came to visit y/n. "You look terrible mate." James said pulling his best friend into a hug. It had been almost a year since the two saw each other last. "Yeah well, I certainly feel terrible." He said honestly. James gave him a sympathetic glance before joining Lily who was sitting at sirius' spot beside y/n. She looked devastated at seeing her best friend in such a state. James smiled at her sadly while Harry babbled happily to himself.

"Are you all family?" Rushed in the healer who had been treating y/n.

"Yes, why?" James asked curiously.

"We have bad news. We have checked miss y/l/n's reports and if she doesn't wake up soon, she may not make it. " She said sadly.

Tears welled up in the eyes of everyone present there. It was hard to see y/n who was always so happy and bubbly lie there on a bed unconscious and almost dead. Sirius knelt before her. "I know we fought before you left, but please wake up. I can't live without you, I realised how much I loved you only after you left. Come back to me, to us I swear I'll be better. Please y/n/n." He kissed her hand that was slightly cold.

Call it dramatic, but a few moments after that y/n's eyes fluttered open. "Sirius?" She said softly. She looked pale and her eyes didn't have the shine they used to.

"Where am I? Did they catch Peter?" She asked confused. Lily reached forward and hugged her friend tightly. "You're in the order safe house, you've been here since the past two months. You're okay now, and they caught Peter. Soon all this will be over." She smiled happily.

Y/n sighed happily. Her gaze fell on everyone in the room but when it landed on Sirius, her smile fell a bit. "I think we should talk about what happened earlier." Y/n said to him. "No! You've just woken up, you're still weak." He protested. "I think it's better we get this over with." She said firmly. Sirius sighed and walked over to her. Everyone else left the room.

"Im sorry about the way I acted, I was scared for you." Sirius started. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. Im sorry I hurt you so bad, it wasn't my intention. I promise I will never ever hurt you again." He finished earnestly.

"How do I know I can trust you again? You promised you loved me the first time and yet you did it again and again. We were toxic for each other Sirius, I don't think we're good for each other." Y/n told him.

"I understand how you feel but if you give me a chance to prove myself, I swear I'll be better." He grabbed her hand.

She sighed and sirius started to lose hope. "This is the final chance I'll give you. I want to be friends first, and take it from there. I don't promise you anything." A small smile played on her lips.

Sirius wanted nothing more than to be loved by her, as a friend or as a lover. That evening, all five friends sat together talking like they were back in Hogwarts and nothing was wrong.

Maybe everything would be fine.

******

A/n: ngl i was planning to tweak the request and kill off the reader but I felt nice and decided against it, you're welcome 😌

taglist (strikethroughv means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you): @emilianamanson @itsarandomsparkle​

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. ���Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[wing-ed-thing]

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, Part V)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 2,799

Warnings/Tags: Physical Bullying, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Threat of Kidnapping/Attempted Kidnapping, Foul Language, Derogatory Language, Fem!Reader, Would y’all classify pining as angst?@tiktoktheclockisticking​ 

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: This chapter is fairly violent. Nothing’s gory it’s just violent so please be warned. I kept it as vague as I could while still getting the point across. 

If you’re dissatisfied with what you’ve had in the past, you can just find other things and just add them to yourself from here on out.

Kabuto never had much to begin with, nothing he could truly call his. And even then, they were, for the most part, gifts. His glasses were a gift. His first name was a gift as was his last name. Much like an equation, Kabuto could always simply add and he always knew some semblance of the outcome.

But now there was you and Kabuto once again found himself unsure. He remained on the very edge of your bed all night, almost afraid to sit comfortably. He shook his leg anxiously, wired by the lack of sleep. Kabuto plus you. He didn’t know the answer. To add you meant to subtract other things. He had gotten used to those other things. And now, he was unsure if they even fit in the first place. Kabuto thought that maybe by the time morning came he would know, but dawn was just beginning to break. And much to his dismay, he found himself just as unsure as when night enveloped the sky.

You loved him. No one had ever told Kabuto that in his life. You loved him, and for what? He didn’t think he did a lot for you. He lounged on your furniture. He read your books and liked to make you flustered. Kabuto dared to gaze down at your unconscious form. His hand ghosted the outline of yours underneath the covers. He bit his lip. He liked being here. He liked to read with you. He loved your smile when you cooked together, when you read the comic section of the paper, when you stayed up late to talk… But was a life with you something he deserved? He didn’t think so.

You began to stir. Kabuto weaved a few hand signs. He didn’t even look as his palm made careful, yet swift, contact with your forehead. He couldn’t. Kabuto buried his face in his hands. He bought just a bit more time to think. Just a bit more time. Just a bit more time.

And by the time you woke up, you woke up with a start. You jumped, gasping as the blanket flew off of you. You glanced wildly around the room. Kabuto was nowhere to be found. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest. Kabuto had been wrong. The morning was here and you didn’t feel better.

***

You had plenty of time in your career as a ninja to properly map out the Hokage building. But even still, you never did and found yourself, per usual, lost. The halls looked the same for the most part. The rooms still went by the same number system used back with the first Hokage. And really, you didn’t have the mental energy to figure it out, not today. Despite the amount of alcohol you had last night, you could remember what happened vividly. Iruka, the good time you had, your teammates, and the burning humiliation. Kabuto. You wouldn’t have been here if you could help it.

You let out a sigh of relief halfway up the stairs as you spotted the sign at the top. You were almost on the right floor. Swinging open the door with a heave, you were met with the administrative assistant. You followed the curve of the hallway with your eyes. You could see the door to the Hokage’s door. The administrative assistant paid you little to no mind, sitting quietly behind his large, cluttered desk. You approached, tense.

“Hi, uh, I’ve been summoned?” You peeped. He didn’t look up from his work. You opened your mouth, then closed it. More silence. You tried again “I was summoned by L—” His head snapped up in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

“Name?” He asked forcefully, lugging a large book out from underneath a stack of others. You told him your name quietly and anxiously. The assistant stopped and let out a vexed grunt. You stood completely still, tense. You folded your hands neatly in front of you. He slammed the book back on the pile he got it from, causing you to jump, and instead began to rifle through one of his drawers.

“This is for you.” He held a small envelope to you. You stared for a second at the small rectangle confused before the assistant began to shake it. You apparently did not take the document quickly enough. The assistant turned straight back to his work. Confused, you opened the letter. You scanned the page, eyes widening in shock as you glanced up.

“Under investigation?” You gasped, the notice shaking in your hands. “A-And I’m suspended? For how long?” As if you didn’t have enough to deal with today.

“I don’t know, okay?” The assistant huffed. “All I know is that you’re not seeing the Hokage today.”

You had so many questions, but knowing that none of them were going to be answered, you left. And as you departed from the Hokage building, you were completely unaware that you were being stalked from the shadows.

***

Kabuto was running on fumes. Too wired to sleep, too tired to think. He felt the need to do something, so once again, he found himself in the lab. But after looking over his selection of possible specimens to study, Kabuto quickly decided that creating plans for experiments required much more effort than he had in him. He turned to cleaning and reorganization, a simple and mindless task. He had already made his way from the main laboratory to a few minor storage closets to yet more old exam rooms. Kabuto always took pride in a clean workspace, though Orochimaru had never been as dedicated.

Once again, his thoughts returned to you and he restrained himself from physically hitting his head against the nearest hard surface. He adjusted the gloves on his hands and picked up a labeled bin. Kabuto couldn’t help but wonder about what you were doing right now or if you had forgiven him. He knew perfectly well from day one that he had grown completely attached, but never had he expected for things to turn out like this. Kabuto stacked the bin with a few others in a corner of the extensive space. He leaned against the wall with a sigh, silently defying his better judgement by asking himself if you were truly happy in the Leaf. Helplessness washed over him. Yet another thing he didn’t know. He hated that feeling.

Kabuto slammed his fist against the wall next to him and a hollow reverberation echoed through the room. He blinked at the space under his wrist, giving it another strike. He turned to fully face the panel, hands spread across the cold surface. Kabuto tapped at it, shifting to his left and right to find where his tapping felt solid and where it felt empty. But with a few hand signs in the right spot, the wall disappeared to reveal a small back room.

Kabuto wandered in, kunai drawn. In the center of the room sat a lone examination table, straps sewn to the sides. Papers lay strewn around. A few vials were randomly shoved onto makeshift shelves. A chakra test kit sat at the foot of the table. Kabuto spotted a file under the single lamp that swung from the bare ceiling. Flicking it open, he found what he dreaded most. He felt a presence at the doorway. Kabuto’s shoulders dropped.

“I thought we weren’t going to pursue the girl.” He tried to make his voice as emotionless as he could. Anyone else and he would have been convincing.

“I put a lot of effort into safeguarding this room, you know.” Kabuto scoffed.

“Well, what can I say, Lord Orochimaru, you taught me well.” He turned to face the Sanin. Orochimaru stood, leaning against the doorframe. “I must say that I’m surprised. There never has been a whole lot you’ve kept from me.”

“Sure there has,” Orochimaru laughed, a certain amount of bite in his tone. “And you’ve been far too invested. I had to take things into my own hands.”

A pause. Kabuto stared at his mentor and a life changing choice stared back. All of his previous thoughts confronted him at once and he quickly came to a realization. He was out of time. For the whole day he had been putting off his decision by staying up all night, by avoiding strenuous work. But now, he stared the embodiment of his questions in the face.

“She’s protected in the village and well loved,” A lie, but one Kabuto tried his best to convince himself of. “She wouldn’t be an interesting test subject anyway.” Orochimaru frowned, eyes half lidded.

“Kabuto, your girlfriend leveled the entire eastside base.”

Kabuto did remember. He remembered the ambush at the base. How regretfully your team of Leaf shinobi had gotten the better of him. He remembered waking up without a scratch in a mile-wide crater, your body half flung over his torso. The underground base had been completely excavated and decimated to smithereens. The laboratories were gone. The many rooms and hallways were gone. All that remained were the two of you. And that’s how Kabuto Yakushi met you.

“She gave you what you wanted in exchange for the scroll.” The kunai in his hand hung by the loop on his finger, but not put away. He methodically fiddled with it’s handle.

“A few tests for a fake scroll is a measly trade,” Orochimaru rolled his eyes, though the mischief in them wasn’t lost. “Nothing I did warranted what you gave her.”

“I just gave her what you promised.” Kabuto narrowed his eyes, “So why does it look like you’re going to perform an extraction? She’s not even here.”

“And that, Kabuto, is where you’re wrong.”

***

You took your usual shortcut home. You could always tell how close you were by the number of trees. The Hokage building had always been around the epicenter of all the bustle in Konoha, and for good reason. But most of the time, you enjoyed a break from the intensity of ninja life and settle into your apartment near the outskirts of town. You cut through a thick patch of trees. A trail had been beaten into the ground long ago. The area felt like a park and served to remind you of the scenery just outside of the village. But you couldn’t enjoy your walk this time. You sensed a presence.

You began to walk faster and that was when four figures jumped out at you from the treetops. Their hitai-ate gleamed in the interrupted lighting. Sound ninja. You immediately disappeared, a jutsu you no longer needed hand signs for, and camouflaged into the scenery around you. But despite your fast-moving efforts, you were still grabbed and thrown to the ground. Your fragile jutsu broke, but you scrambled up quickly, kunai in hand. You turned on your heel, lowered in a defensive position.

“Please go away,” You nearly whimpered, “I’ve had such a rough week. Try again next week!” You argued as if that mattered to your band of attackers.

“Lord Orochimaru has explicitly expressed that we are not to leave without you.” As the words left his lips, you couldn’t help but wonder if this had been Kabuto’s doing. Though, if he had wanted to abduct you, he could have done so last night and perhaps that wouldn’t have been so bad. But you didn’t have enough time to wonder. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a volley of projectiles. You leaped to the ground, arms coming to wrap over your head.

An uproar above you. Weapons clashing and pained cries. Your head stayed down. And as the bodies of your old problem hit the ground, you heard the voice of your new problem.

“I knew you were a traitor.”

***

Kabuto refrained from gritting his teeth.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Orochimaru only smirked smugly.

“A healing chakra that can pack the power of lightning and you wonder what we can do with that?” The Sannin shrugged. “We don’t know if it’s a kekkei genkai. Perhaps a new breed of ninja but that kind of power could do many things. One could even say—” He met Kabuto’s eyes, antagonism built up and glittering in his own, —“that power could restart a heart. With enough control, that is.” Kabuto moved forward to walk back out through the doorway, but Orochimaru blocked his path.

“What is it, Lord Orochimaru?” He asked with as much restraint he could muster.

“You’re not planning to go to her are you? She’ll be here any minute.” Kabuto hesitated and for once told a most vulnerable truth.

“I really don’t know what I’m going to do.” And he was allowed to pass.

***

“Thank you for saving me!” You scrambled up to your feet, eyes wide and on the fallen bodies of your attackers. But before any of the situation could process you heard a shout of warning.

“Don’t you come any closer, Sound ninja bitch!” The kunoichi from your team stood in front of you, weapon pointed in your direction. Your head turned towards her, confused and surprised.

“What?”

“I said don’t come any closer!” You held your hands up, truly not wanting any trouble. The patch of forest didn’t dare to make a sound and neither did you. Your teammate circled you, coming closer with every circulation. Her stance never faltered. “I knew you were a lying rat from the very beginning. We all did.”

“I think there’s been a misun—”

“Keep your fucking hands up!” You listened, spreading your palms to the air. Your neck scrunched downward into your collar as you flinched. “You’re pretty fucking dumb to meet with your buddies in the open like this, even if you are close to village limits.” You kept your lips folded in a thin line. The kunoichi snarled at you. “Pick up your kunai.”

“I’m not going to fight you,” You expressed with a certain amount of reluctance and your response only served to further anger her. She sheathed her weapon and shoved you to the ground.

“What? You think you’re better than me, you sellout?” She grabbed your hair, forcing you to meet her eye. Her hand crossed right across your cheek, the sting prickling on your skin. Even so, you refused to fight a comrade. “When the others get here we’re going to take care of you—” She continued to whale on you with her fists. Your nose began to bleed. —“And we’re going to take care of that boytoy of yours too!”

And as you bled, all you could mewl was, “Please stop.” You felt a warmth spreading over your face and an uncomfortable mending. The kunoichi stared down in disgust from her vantage over you. A blue aura spread across your skin, not of your own control.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” She landed another blow to your face, her fist coming in direct contact with the blue air. A spark of chakra and she recoiled her hand with a growl. “You think you’re going to shock me? You think you’re going to hurt me with some weak ass lightning jutsu. Show me some respect and fight me like a ninja!” She punctuated each word with a strike. You sat up quickly only to be pushed back down. “Oh you finally got some fight in you, traitor?” She repeated the name like a mantra.

She didn’t notice how you had stopped bleeding or how the energy around you began to violently fluctuate. You had become completely resigned, quiet, and silently crying. You couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved this. Perhaps you shouldn’t have tried to save someone who wasn’t your own. But he turned out to be the only one who actually cared about you, unconditionally. You knew that you could never have had a happy future in the Leaf. Your heart ached for your new friends, for Iruka’s friendship, peace between shinobi nations, and for Kabuto. The tears streamed down the side of your temples but you didn’t say a word. You could feel the energy build up within you.

You tried to warn her, but one last punch and you knew it was over. The blue aura shrunk against your skin all over your body and then, in an instant, burst. An electric wave shot out from your being. The ground cracked. The trees snapped. You saw her eyes widen as the energy shot through her chest. The kunoichi looked at you, eyes wide in fear and you knew that by the time she hit the ground that she was dead.

Notes: Very dramatic, no? I didn’t know where this series was going from chapter 1. I thought maybe a slice of life but it’s taken a turn. Next chapter will be the finale! Woop woop!

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[mandoalorian]

Biology [Dio x Reader]

Summary – You are stressed about college applications but by a twist of fate, a boy comes into your life and agrees to help you in exchange for something else.

Pairing – Gender neutral reader x Shane “Dio” Morrissey (No Y/N)

Warnings – general school related anxiety

Word count – 2.2k

A/N: For now this is just a one shot but if people enjoy it please let me know and I can write more! Comment if you would like to be tagged in a possible future update/s.

-

“I’m heading home now,” the high school librarian announced, as she threw the keys in your direction. The clanking of the metal hitting the desk interrupted you from your thoughts. “Lock up.” She ordered you and before you could reply, she was gone. You had stayed late at the school library every night for the past two weeks trying to work on your college applications. You had applied for one of the most prestigious fashion schools in your country and were spending time working on your portfolio, trying to make sure everything was perfected. Every night, however, you found yourself staying late and as the submission deadline neared more and more things were seemingly going wrong. In the dim light, you stared at the computer screen as the brightness stung your eyes. Just then, a crash made you jump out of your seat and run to where the noise emanated from, thinking something had happened to the librarian on her way out. Instead, you saw the silhouette of a boy, clumsily picking up fallen books from the floor. You got closer and went down on your knees, reaching your hand out to pick up a book, but his hand overlapped yours. The contact sent a shiver down your spine and you diverted your gaze from the book, to the boy. He was already staring at you. Your lips parted as you realised who he was and he said your name in a gentle tone. The dim light brought out a sparkle in his eyes which almost made him unrecognisable. “Dio…”

He was the boy in your classes, who sat at the back and didn’t say a word. He was different to the other boys. He wore all black, he had piercings and, you looked down at his hand which was resting on top of yours, noting his chipped, painted black nails. You smiled; he was certainly different. Dio was one to always get in trouble, fighting with people who crossed him wrong or using his smart mouth to back-talk the teachers. You remembered just the other week he had threatened to stab someone. You ripped your hand away from his, remembering the incident and stumbled back to your feet. He stood up with you and you folded your arms over your chest, almost defensively. “Why are you here?” You quizzed Dio. There was no reason for someone like him to be in the school library so late at night.

Dio stood awkwardly, looking at you and looking at the pile of fallen books on the ground. “I- uh-“ he struggled to get his words out. You picked up one of the books and ran your fingers over the title.

“Biology?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m failing,” Dio admitted with a sigh. “And, I can’t fail. So I’m studying. I usually just sit in Ms Greene’s classroom every night after school. No one knows I stay back. It’s uh, kind of a secret.”

“No way,” you shook your head in disbelief. “You? Studying?” You panicked slightly, feeling as though your tone might have come off as rude, but he didn’t seem fazed.

“I don’t want to go college,” Dio shrugged. “But I want out of this hell-hole. I want to graduate. I’m already a grade behind because I failed my finals last year. I can’t fail again.”

“You’re a year behind?”

“I’m nineteen,” he told you and you nodded, listening to him intently. He was finally making eye contact with you, and the softness in his look brought you a feeling of safety, despite him being your high school’s intimidating Goth boy.

“Well,” you cleared your throat and changed the subject. “I’m here every night too.” Dio gave you a weak smile and rubbed his feet along the old carpet awkwardly.

“Studying?” he asked.

“No,” you replied and handed him the biology book. He took it and slid it back into its place. He didn’t even want it anymore. “College applications.”

“Yeah? What are you applying for?” Dio asked and you raised an eyebrow at his curiosity.

“Fashion,” you informed him, pointing at the only switched on computer which lit up the corner of library. Dio’s smile grew and you wondered if he was about to poke fun at you.

“Can I see?” He followed your finger and also pointed at your computer.

You hesitated. He probably wanted to sabotage your portfolio... that sounded like a ‘Dio’ thing to do. The awkward silence went on long enough and you gave in, agreeing, and taking him over to your computer. You slid back down into your chair and flicked through the pages of your virtual fashion file. Instead of pulling a seat up, he leaned down to your level, his hand resting on the back of your chair. The distance between you both was very small, you swore you could even feel his breath on your neck. “Ms Cassidy says all applications are due in this Friday and I’m just about happy with my portfolio-“

“-You should be,” Dio interrupted. “This is incredible.”

You paused, dumbstruck by his compliment. Dio doesn’t just give out compliments like that. Especially not to people he’s just met. Hell, you were even surprised he knew your name. “…But,” you continued. “I need this to stand out and be special or else the admissions team won’t look twice at it. Fashion is so competitive. I had this idea. I wanted to do a segment on alternative style but I need a model and I’m not sure if I could find one who fits my image in time. I feel like giving up.” You sighed, exasperated, but he didn’t answer. He was paying very little attention to your words, or even your portfolio. His eyes burned into your face, memorising and taking in every little detail like you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. “Dio?” You interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

You sighed again. “I can’t find a model because no one has that special air of style these days. Everyone is the same. Same is boring. We all want to look the same as each other because… it feels safe.” You shrugged.

“Right,” Dio agreed, shuffling around in his long black leather coat. The noise it made pulled you to look at him, and as you took in his appearance, you were struck with an idea. Dio must’ve seen the lightbulb appear above your head and he laughed.  “No no no,” he shook his head. You didn’t need to verbalise your thoughts, he already knew exactly what you wanted. “Not me. I’m not a model.”

“Please!” You begged, standing up and pressing both of your hands to his chest as you felt the different layers of material he was wearing. His breathing hitched under your touch and he squirmed slightly. “You’re perfect… you…” Your voice trailed off as you imagined the various poses he could do in his different clothes. He was everything you needed; your ticket to get into Fashion school. “Dio.” you pulled your hands away and pressed them together in a praying gesture. “I’ll pay you.” Your voice changed seriously. “Do you have any idea how much I want this?”

“I do… I do…” Dio said, uncertainty still dripping from his tongue. He thought of how much his friends would tease him if they found out he had been out on photoshoots with you. If they knew he was your model. But there was no reason for them to find out, and if it meant he could spend more time with you… “You can pay me. Yeah?” He eventually agreed.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, filled with happiness. “Of course Dio, thank you.” And acting on impulse, you hugged him. You felt him tense up and you buried your face into his chest. After a delay, he wrapped his arms around you. He was warm. You didn’t know what it was, perhaps his strong arms or broad shoulders that made you feel protected. It was crazy. Of course you had seen him around before, but suddenly he had you feeling all these things. “Thank you,” you mumbled. You finally felt like you had a shot at fashion school – a chance. From that moment, you swore he was your lucky star.

Dio had always stuck out in a crowd of high school students with his black gelled hair, kohl eyeliner and multiple piercings around his ears. You were certain he was feared, even by the jocks, but that only drew you in closer to him. He was like an enigma, and in this moment, you had never felt more compelled to discover more of him. Realising your hug probably had lasted way longer than appropriate, you were the first one to pull away. “So, uhm,” you cleared your throat, figuring you should go over expenses. “I can do 30$ for the first hour and if it takes longer… then 10$ for every hour after that.”

“No I don’t want your money,” Dio said, and you knotted your eyebrows together. He wanted more.

Dio knew you better than you knew him. He had been watching you for a while now, taking in your every move. He knew your GPA was above average and that you were worrying way more than you needed to be about college. He had complete faith in you. He saw you every day, laughing with your friends in the cafeteria. He watched you from his seat at the back of the classes you shared with him. He admired how smart you were, and especially how hard-working, something he felt like he could never be. You felt like you would be good for him, a positive influence which is something he knew he so desperately needed. But there was something about you that made him lose his confidence. It was a feeling he’d never felt before which made him question all his motives. He wanted to go out with you, kiss you with hunger and passion. He had done these things plenty of times before and lord knows he was experienced but it was like there was something inside of him that stopped him from making any advances. In the darkness of the library, in the close proximity, he felt the butterflies in his stomach. He felt the spark of electricity when your hands had previously touched. He’d done a lot – been with guys and girls before but the outcome was always the same. Meaningless sex and then never speak to them again. Now, he was suddenly feeling this emotional attachment. A sense of longing.

He wanted to ask you out. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t need your money, he just needed you, and he’d take you right now in the library if he could. He looked around, contemplating his surroundings. He simply couldn’t do it, and yet the urge to kiss you was so strong. “I don’t want your money,” he repeated. “Look, you help me pass biology and that’ll be enough.”

You felt the tension in the air. You wondered if he could feel it too. “Before we start on biology,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “How’s your chemistry?” You intertwined your fingers with his and bit your lip, taking a step forward to him, filling any distance. Dio felt the smirk playing on his lips at your confidence but nervously, you looked up at him doe-eyed. This was the first time you had ever gotten close to someone. Dio lifted his free hand and cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the softness of your lower lip.

“Good enough for me to know it’s alright to do this,” his voice was dark. He leaned in and his nose brushed against yours. You hummed and found your fingers in his hair as you pushed his face closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you delicately. It wasn’t how you had imagined at all. You had seen him around other people; the way he’d push his partners into the lockers and run his hands over their bodies. You’d see people hang out with Dio, and they’d turn up to class the next day with hickeys and love-bites all over their jaw and neck. You imagined him rough, but this felt – gentle. He was passionate and took his time to deepen the kiss. You felt safe in his arms, you wanted to stay like this forever. He was such a good kisser, although him being your first kiss, you didn’t have much to compare it to. When he eventually pulled away so you could both catch your breath, you felt your knees weaken and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Dio spoke your name softly and squeezed your hand. “Let me walk you home.” He murmured, to which you agreed, but not before kissing him again.

-

I hope you enjoyed!! Like I said let me know if you want to be added to a tag list and I will write more if people want more. Thanks for reading. xx

[echo-hiraeth]

Empty Promises - Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader

Summary: The reader is a forgotten past romance and works for Maxwell Lord. They’ve secretly been taking care of Alistair when Maxwell failed to do so. When he starts to take notice and offers them a promotion, they speak their mind.

Warnings: Angst

Masterlist

“Alistair!”, Maxwell beamed, spinning his son around while locking eyes with one of his many assistants. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“It’s your week with him Mister Lord, you ex-wife just had him dropped off”, a lady in a pencil skirt informed him.

You rolled your eyes at the both of them. Maxwell did this every time, too caught up in his bank statements and bleached hair to pay attention to his own bloody flesh and blood. It wasn’t long before the young boy was kicked out of the office once again. You’d watched this scene every other week, your heart aching for the poor kid, this had to stop.

“Hey there little man, how’s it hanging”, you started, kneeling beside the chair he was sat in.

“I’m bored”, he sighed, eyes glued to his tan hands.

“I see.. wanna come check out my office? I have my own fridge filled with snacks”, you spoke, whispering the last part of the phrase.

Alistair looking up at that, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Really?”

You nodded, smiling at him as he took your hand. “C’mon I’ll show you around, let’s have some fun.”

 The two of you had become inseparable over the weeks, spending every otherwise so dull moment together in your office, which you’d given a little revamp. Your mother had given you some of your old and retired toys that you kept in the bottom drawer of your desk. A small chair was also added, which your friend had graciously gifted to you.

Every day after Maxwell dropped his son off with someone else, you’d go and look for him. Once you found him you took him to your little, what he referred to as, clubhouse. Alistair would re-enact movie scenes with the dolls and toy cars you’d given him while you wrote away on your typewriter. Because despite the new self-acclaimed responsibility of taking care of your boss’ son, you also still had your actual job to do.

“Y/n, why can’t we play at home?”, the boy asked as the two of you ate your lunches together.

“Ah sweetheart, you know we can’t, we’re work friends”, you cooed, ruffling through his hair.

“Daddy said it’s fine, I can have friends over”, he continued, eyes filled with hope.

You went to stand, quickly stretching before grabbing two cans of soda out of your small fridge. “Well, I don’t think your daddy likes me that much, niño.”

“He said you went to adult school together.”

“Did he now? I thought he’d forgotten all about me”, you laughed, handing Alistair a can as well.

“He thinks you’re pretty and that you’re very smart too”, he said between gulps, a little bit of soda trickling down his chin in his enthusiasm.

“Your daddy said a lot of things to me back in the day Ali, but people don’t always mean what they say”, you sighed, a sense of nostalgia washing over you as you remembered your time with Maxwell back in college.

“Daddy never plays with me, he always promises me but he’s never home”, the child whispered, lip starting to quiver.

“Hey, your daddy loves you, okay. He loves you so so so much, he’s just… very busy.” You wrapped your arms around him, wiping some of the tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“I don’t think he means that”, the boy sobbed. That was the exact moment your heart shattered and you vowed yourself to fill the void Maxwell had left to the best of your abilities.

“How about I come over to play some more tonight? I’ll sneak in some ice cream too, your dad doesn’t have to know.”

 That night you went home with Alistair after arranging with the nanny that you’d be taking over for the night. She was grateful to have you take over, eager to get home to her own family. So here you were, sitting in the colourful bedroom, laughing away with your tiny friend.

“No way, my Action Man is waaaaay cooler looking than yours”, you giggled.

“Yeah but mine will kick your butt”, Alistair retorted, throwing the dolls at one another, acting out an intense fighting scene.

“Hey! No fair, you snuck up on me, that’s against the Action Man code!”, you yelped, tackling the boy to the floor and tickling at his sides.

“Since when”, he spurted out between fits of laughter.

“Since I said so little Mister”, you ordered, grinning as you helped him to sit up straight again.

He wrapped his little arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Thank you for playing with me.”

“Ah no you don’t, don’t get all sappy and gross now”, you jokingly warned. “C’mon, it’s bedtime.”

“Will you stay to read me a story?”, he asked, eyes pleading.

You couldn’t resist. After he’d changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth after you pushed him back into the bathroom four times, you finally tucked him in. He fell asleep after not even a page of his “Arthur” storybook.

With a sad smile plastered on your face you left his room, carefully shutting the door so as to not wake him. You grabbed your bag and headed downstairs, looking forward to ending to day yourself.

“Y/n?”, a familiar voice sounded.

“Mister Lord”, you greeted, reaching for the door handle.

“Actually, would you mind staying another ten minutes or so, I need to speak with you.”

You shrugged, crossing your arms in front of you as you turned around to face him. He beckoned you to follow him into his living room, urging you to sit down as he offered you a glass of Scotch. You politely declined and waited for him to start talking.

“My Alistair has told me you’ve been taking care of him during your shifts, is this true?” he questioned, playing around with the melting ice in his glass.

“The kid’s bored out of his mind every moment he’s stuck there. So yes, I look after him from time to time. Is there a problem?”

“No! No, not at all, in fact, I’d like to thank you. I looked into your files and noticed your pay is quite average. Besides it seems your potential is wasted in your current position, I’d like to offer you a position as my righthand, secretary-general if you will.” He looked at you with a smug smile, making big hand gestures as he spoke.

You shook your head slowly, scoffing: “No thanks, I like where I’m at.”

“Well if not a promotion then I think a raise would be in order, how much do you wish for?”, he questioned, extending his hands over to you.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His face contorts in confusion. “I don’t need your money, I’m not some babysitter.”

“Come on now y/n, it’s not that big of a deal, let me give you a token of my appreciation”, he purrs, pulling out a check book.

“Token of appreciation my fucking ass, if you cared about your son as much as you care about your money I wouldn’t even be here in the first place. Do you think I enjoy wiping the fucking tears off of his face when he’s once again crying because he thinks you don’t love him?”, you yelled, standing up and pointing a finger in his face.

“I-I didn’t know..”

“Of course you don’t! How can when you never spend more than five minutes with him! How can you know what your son needs when you’re never even around to hear him out!”, you screamed tears starting to well up in your eyes. “He doesn’t want a pony or a fucking pool, he wants a dad that will sit down and play with him. He- he wants someone to love him”, you spoke in a hushed voice, on the verge of breaking down into sobs yourself.

Maxwell had done the same exact thing to you all these years ago. It was such a cruel trick of fate to be hired by his company, which you didn’t found out until a couple weeks in he was the owner of. You’d been too stubborn to leave, vowing to yourself that you were an adult and totally over your past romances.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to disappoint you again”, he whispered, too ashamed with himself to even look you in the eyes.

The first sob left your throat, making him look up. “This isn’t about me Max… Your boy needs you.”

“I fucked up, I never stopped thinking about you, I couldn’t. If you could please just… help me. I-I’ll do anything, please, I just want Alistair to be proud.. and happy”, he pleaded, slowly stepping closer to you.

“I can only help you if you’ll let me”, you mutter against the skin of his neck as he embraces you.

“Can you even forgive me for what I did to you?”, he inquired, voice shaking with emotion.

“Yeah, if I couldn’t I wouldn’t have missed you so much”, you admitted, slowly letting go of him to look into his red eyes. “Take the week off to catch up with Alistair, the secretary-general will take over for now.”

[octupus-on-the-moon]

A deal

《 Previous -- Masterlist -- Next 》

Fifth part of a nightmare

Word count: 1322

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mental health issues

“You can stay in my apartment” At the moment Bucky realized what he proposed. His eyes widened. “Only if you want of course. I know it´s weird because I almost… The Winter Soldier almost killed you. And I may be intimidating or even a threat for you. But I kind of … I wasn´t really conscious as the Winter Soldier. I would never hurt you…. or anyone who doesn´t deserve it and…” Barnes stopped the stuttering. Y/n shaked her head in refusal.

“That´s kind of you, but I can take a Hotel room.” She tried in vain to dry her tears with a dripping wet handkerchief “I don´t want to intrude in your life just like that. You´re probably Sstill getting used to everything and I´m just being overly dramatic” she looked down to the lump of paper.

“Believe it or not, I´m used to overly dramatic” Barnes replied. Lost in thoughts, about a little guy in Brooklyn, he took a paper from the dispenser and passed it to her. “Actually, my therapist has been complaining about me being lonely and needing people around me. You know make some history of your own, nurture friendships, have a family some day and stuff” She looked up to him at the sudden change of his tone. A broken smile on his face. “And I could help you out with your father”

“Are you trying to convince me to stay as a ‘friend’ or are you trying to propose a deal?” Y/n inquired, getting rid of the last tears, with a sly grin.

“Maybe a little of both. Maybe a little more” Something new appeared on his face. The melancholic smile turned into mischievous smirk. Was James flirting with her? “You´ll get your revenge. I´ll get to please my therapist” With a rush of energy, she stood up, reaching a hand towards Barnes.

“Deal” They shook hands. Then she went to the sink, to wash the evidence of her breakdown away. “But what´s exactly the plan?” Bucky leaned against the door to the diner. His gaze absent. Thinking.

“I need access to your father´s documents. They are probably in your house don´t?”

“Yep” she responded, while drying her face with a paper towel.

“So, we need to break in”

“What? No. Why do men always make everything so complicated? I can just bring you with me, as a friend or something. It´s my house too, after all.” Y/n threw the soaked papers away. Checking herself in the mirror, making sure that she did not seem to have cried.

“That will not work.” He pushed himself away from the door.

“Why?”

“He knows who I am, maybe from his time in S.H.I.E.L.D. Maybe because he invested a lot of money to keep me alive. He must have seen at least a picture” Barnes offered her his arm, nodding towards the door “Shall we?”

“Yes” shyly she took his arm “If that doesn´t work, then I´ll steal the documents for you” He opened the door. Again, everyone was staring at them, but this time slightly discreet.  

“I will regret saying this but, isn´t it dangerous? I mean. If he hid it away from you that long?” Bucky started to dissimulate an unsuspicious conversation. Whispering side ways and forcing a smile, that really did not fit him well. Y/n followed him, making it look more natural.    

“Oh, but breaking in the high secured house of a man with many resources and influences, to unravel his secret identity, which he successfully buried for years, isn´t” she countered. The waitress had already left their drinks on the table.

“In case something happens, it will only happen to me” he tried to oppose to y/n poorly. Both sat down next to each other. The wall on their backs.  

“You know. I´m not a fragile damsel in distress, if someone can take my father down it´s me. I don´t even need you to do it” she stated keenly, raising her chin, like a little kid would do it to prove himself. For the second time that day, a genuine little smile appeared on Bucky´s face.

“If you insist.”  

“What about the other part of the deal?” 

Y/n didn´t get an answer right away. The waitress came to take their order. And Bucky was not particularly fond about it, so he played it off. But she did not give up.

“So, what about part B of the deal?” Barnes took a long deep breath.

“I don´t really know. She said that I´m old and lonely, which is evident... partly evident. That I don´t trust people, because I don´t reply massages or call anyone and that I´m finally free to do what I want”

“Okey. Then we´ll start with your communication skills. Answer Sam´s last message. Without that file, we wouldn´t be sitting here”

“We don´t get along pretty good”

“Hypocrisy isn´t my thing either, but if you want to move on with your therapy and survive in this world you´ll need to learn it”

“But I don´t know what to write.”

“It´s easy, just thank him for the file and if you want to earn an extra point, just tell him that your doing good and thank him for asking” Bucky grunted, while taking out his phone.

“Okey. Okey. But I will only thank him for the file” he muttered, making the face of a kid who´s mom just told him to apologize for being rude.

“That´s great, really and if you are already on it, you can save my number too” y/n indicated. You couldn´t see anything of the little incident before, she was smiling and full of energy. “We could fake a conversation. In messages or we could call each other and fake a conversation”

“Did you read a book about how to cheat on your therapist or something?” Barnes teased her not looking up from the phone.

“No, but I was, what someone would call, a problem teen and therapists work like not-that-emotional-involved-parents. I´m only applying stuff I learned along the way” y/n explained. Bucky started to asked himself, why he always ended up working with little angry rebels?

After sending the message to Sam, saving y/n´s number and eating a passable, but very needed lunch. Talking about trivial things, making jokes. Both went out, the way they came in. Arm in arm. Comfortable with each other’s closeness.  

“Thank you for inviting me after I actually invited you” Bucky recognized slightly ashamed, while approaching the entrance.

“It´s a pleasure. The government probably doesn´t pay veterans so well. And you saved me today…” she got interrupted by an elderly woman. She was sitting with who seemed to be her husband.

“I am sorry to bother you two. But we wanted to tell you, that you make a lovely couple” The gentleman on her side nodded

“You have a wonderful woman there, young man. Take good care of her” he added. Bucky started to blush looking for words.

“Thank you, but we are just friends” Y/n clarified calmly, taking a little step aside to create space between her and Barnes.

“In that case I wouldn´t let her go if I were you” referred the man to Bucky.

“Will see” he said eluding the obvious.

 “See, you’re still a young man in the eyes of strangers” y/n laughed. They were standing outside the diner.

“If I had lived a normal life, I would look just like him right now.”

“You´re pretty optimistic. The average human just lives 80 years and he´s like what 75? You´re like 20 years older”

“I´m 106 years old.”

“He´s 31 years younger than you. Dear lord, what would the people say if we were a couple? The gossip would be unbearable”

“I really liked you more, when you didn’t speak that much”

“Oh, come on. Your life was probably boring without me”

Barnes started to cross the street, trying to hide a smile. Yes, it was.

All rights reserved.

《 Previous -- Masterlist -- Next 》

[tryingmybestpls]

Like Real People Do (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Summary: When Frankie comes home with his friend Santiago in tow, Reader is rightfully suspicious of why Santiago is here.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:Mentions of drinking, mentions of substance (cocaine) abuse, cursing

A/N: I made fun of Tom maybe a little too much in this, but also? He deserves it :)

"Baby! I'm home!" Frankie calls out as you finish changing your little girl's diaper. You smile down at your daughter, lifting her up into your arms. She pulls at her lilac colored onesie, making a soft little noise. You carefully fix the gold studs in her ears, humming softly. She babbles on as you try to fixed her messy hair., giving up when she starts to squirm.

"Daddy's home, baby girl." You say in a singsong voice as the two of you walk out of a her room and down the hall into the living room. You're more than a little shocked to see Frankie's friend Santiago standing beside your boyfriend. They're both grinning ear to ear (both of them wearing their own respective hats), especially as Frankie walks over to you, kissing you and then your little girl's forehead. He's so happy that you can't be mad at him about bringing Santiago around unannounced. They're also both definitely drunk. Benny's fight.

You've only met Santiago on a handful occasions, mainly at bars. You knew through Frankie, Benny, and Will that he had been down in South America for a year or two hunting down a big drug lord. You knew that he, Frankie, Tom, Benny, and Will were all best buddies and teammates. While your information on Santiago was limited to what Frankie and his buddies told you, you knew that it was a little weird that he was currently standing in your living room.

"Y/N, you remember Santiago, right?" Frankie asks and you nod. Frankie's smile is contagious because soon one is appearing on your face.

Santiago is grinning as well as he walks over to you, hugging you carefully as he leans over the child in your arms.

"Of course I do. He's your best looking friend." You respond, which makes said man laugh as he pulls away. You just know that Frankie is rolling his eyes, but you aren’t wrong.

"It's nice to see you too and this-" Santiago starts, looking down at your daughter, "Must be the little girl that Fish won't shut up about."

"Pope, this is our daughter Sofía Isabel." Frankie's voice is filled with pride and adoration as his arm wraps around you. You turn your head to look at your boyfriend, grinning almost as much as he is. However you notice that something in Santiago's shift. He's smiling, but it's not in his eyes. There's definitely something wrong here. Frankie doesn’t notice is because Sofía has all of his attention.

"She's adorable. Thankfully, she looks like Y/N. You should be grateful she didn't get his nose." He says, smirking. You laugh, rocking your child slightly. You really want to defend your boyfriend’s nose, but want you want to say gets caught in your throat. A sinking feeling suddenly arises in your stomach and you try to ignore it.

"Pinche pendejo." Frankie curses, "You know what, next time I'll let you eat dinner in Tom's sad little apartment. Eat a fucking frozen meal."

-

"No seriously, Tom came to visit us a week after Sofía was born and just wouldn't stop crying. It was...depressing." You tell Santiago as the three of you sit around the dinner table, Santiago and Frankie busting up with laughter. Sofía was already fast asleep in her crib and dinner had been long finished.

"Jesus. What'd you do?" Santiago asks, leaning forward in his seat, his hand wrapped around his amber colored bottle of beer.

"I tried to console him! He had mocos everywhere-It was bad." You reply, taking a sip of water. Frankie snorts, taking another sip of beer and quickly swallowing it.

"So then I come back in the room, Tom's crying and so is Sofía so Y/N is trying to calm both of them down. It was a complete shitshow." Your boyfriend adds and you laugh, as does Santiago. It must've been a little too loud, because Sofía's cry cuts through the noise like a knife. Both your face and Frankie’s drop, your heads turning towards the hall.

"Shit." You mutter and move to stand. Frankie puts his hand on your arm. You look over to him, seeing that he's giving you a sweet little smile.

"No you've had her all day. I'll go." He responds as he stands. You nod with a smile, sitting back down in your seat as he walks down the hall. Your smile fades as you look at Santiago. It was the perfect moment for your little interrogation.

"Why are you back? You're not here for vacation, because if you were, the two of you would've talked more about it." The humor is gone from your voice as Santiago straightens in his seat. Even though he's been in worse situations than this, the color drains from his face.

"Y/N, I-" He starts put you hold a finger up, silencing him as you listen to Sofía still crying and Frankie trying to calm her down. You lower your finger as he presses his lips into a thin line.

"The truth, Garcia. That's all I'm asking for." Your voice is quiet and he puts up his hands in a mock-surrender.

"I came to try to get Fish and the others to come back with me so we can help the government take down Lorea." He informs you, his voice low as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Did he tell you that his piloting license was revoked? Tell you why?" You question and Santiago just nods in response. You put your head in your hands. The crying had quieted now.

"It sounds a lot worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't have him risking his life, not now." He tries and you look up at him. You don't know how much time you have left, but it isn't much as you hear the telltale soft creaking noise of Sofía's door as Frankie leaves it slightly ajar.

"He already said yes, didn't he?" You ask and Santiago sends you a discrete look as Frankie's footsteps draw near. The fact that he didn't even try to tell you know answers your question. Your boyfriend had already decided he was going on this mission to South America.

"Said yes to what?" Frankie announces as he walks into the room. Your boyfriend sits down next to you, looking between you and Santiago.

"I was asking Santiago if you had already asked him if he was going to stay the night. He said that you did, but Santiago asked if it was okay with me, so I asked if you already said yes, that it was okay with me." You effortlessly lie and out of the corner of your eye you can see Santiago's slightly shocked face. You're grateful that he quickly masks it. Frankie gives you a sheepish look.

"Sorry, baby. I should've called and asked you." He apologizes, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. You smile at him and at Santiago, your hand moving to rest on top of his.

"Rather have him stay here than in Tom's apartment. At least you get a bed here." You tease, not completely joking. As your boyfriend and his war buddy laughed, you knew that you were going to have to bring the whole drug lord situation up with Frankie.

-

"It's nice to have him back in town." You announce softly as you walk into your bedroom, heading to the bathroom. Frankie follows after you, sitting on the ledge of bathtub as you take off your makeup.

"Baby, I-we weren't being completely honest about why Santiago is back in town." Frankie starts, looking at you in the mirror. You lower the makeup wipe, turning to look at your boyfriend. Frankie has been able to slightly sober up before the two of you had bid Santiago goodnight.

"What do you mean, Frankie? You two said he was here on vacation." You respond, trying to really act shocked. You hated lying to him, but you also wanted him to tell you everything himself. Your boyfriend wipes his face with his hand. He suddenly looks older than he did five minutes ago.

"About a week ago, Pope sent me and the others a file on his work on Lorea. He wanted us to come down there and help him out. Then he showed up at Benny's fight tonight and I told him that I didn't know because I have you and the baby and that's not my life anymore-" He starts and you sigh.

"And he convinced you to join him." You fill in and then it's his turn to sigh. You walk out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He stands up, following you. Frankie moves to hand in front of you, his hands moving to rest on your arms. You did not want to be mad at Frankie (mainly because it was practically impossible to do so), but you couldn't help but feel some type of anger in this situation. Frankie had already said yes to going on this mission without talking to you about it. You were sure that you were allowed to be sort of mad at him in a situation like this.

"Y/N, it's a lot of money, money we need." He tries to convince you. You give him a look because you make more than enough at the hospital and he gets his pension. You two were doing fine.

"I'm not focused on the money, Francisco. We are doing fine, babe. What I am focused on is that we have a three month-old baby and I really don't want to raise her by myself." You respond, trying to keep your voice even. Frankie's eyes soften and he pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You let your eyes shut as you bury your face into his neck.

A couple of months before Sofía Isabel was brought into the world, your boyfriend had stumbled in through the door, telling you that he was sorry. You were extremely confused until you got a little closer and saw his red, dilated eyes. Nursing had taught you what that meant. Then Frankie told you that his piloting license had been suspended and you knew why. You were livid and you told him that he needed to get sober because you weren't to raise your daughter with a man that was addicted to cocaine.

Thankfully, he was sober now, but this whole situation just worried you.

"We are just going in and coming out. I'll be okay, okay? You can't get rid of me that easily, baby." He murmurs into your hair, rubbing your back. There was a lot more you worried about. Frankie was only a few months sober-four to be exact- and you worried that this whole thing was just going to push him back towards his addiction. It was already hard now, trying to make sure both he and your daughter were always okay at all times. At least Sofía let you know when she was upset.

"I swear to God if anything happens to you, I'm kicking Santiago's ass. And Tom's, Will's, and Benny's." You say, pulling away to look up at him. Frankie chuckles, his eyes only on you. When he looks at you like this, damn you feel like the only woman the entire world. For a second, it makes your anger disappear. But only for a second.

"I wouldn't expect anything less." He responds, smiling at you. Frankie kisses your forehead, his scruff scratching at your face.

"When you do you leave?" You question and Frankie sighs again. You know it must be soon when he rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. Your face must show your disappointment because he holds you a little tighter.

"Thursday, but it isn't a long trip. I'll be back before you know it. You two won't even notice I'm gone." Frankie tells you, kissing your forehead again. It's a lie and a big one. He's trying to fix the situation in any way possible, trying to soothe your nerves.

"Sofía will definitely miss her daddy." You retort and Frankie chuckles. You grin and continue, "I'm going to miss you, Francisco."

"And I'm sure as hell going to miss you, baby.  Please don't worry about me, okay?" He says, kissing you softly before you pull away from him, moving to sit down on the bed.

"See you say that and it just makes me worry about you way more." You respond, running a hand through your hair. You didn't doubt your boyfriend or his team's skills. You knew that Frankie could handle himself, but you couldn't help but worry. He wasn't exactly a fresh chicken and it wasn't like his friends were doing any better. The only two that were still sort of in their prime were Will and Benny.

"I know, Y/N.” Frankie walks over you, cupping your cheek in his calloused hand. You look up at him, taking in every little detail of your Frankie. From the wrinkles around his eyes to the way the ends of his hair started to curl to the way he leaned on his right leg a little more then the left. God, you were going to miss him like hell. However, you weren’t going to miss the smell that was wafting off of him.

“Why don’t you go shower, Frankie? You smell like stale beer and rednecks.” You tease, a smile on your face. Frankie laughs, his dimple making an appearance and the skin around his eyes wrinkling. You kiss the palm of his hand, watching him as he shakes his head.

“You know, I don’t appreciate you and Pope both making fun of me.” Frankie retorts as he pulls his hand away, “Keep it up and I’ll invite Tom over for breakfast. He’ll be crying into scrambled eggs, talking about how Molly used to make the best fuckin’ eggs.”

Translations:

Pinche pendejo - fucking asshole

Mocos- boogers

[hopelikethemoon]

Headlines (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Headlines Rating: PG-13 Length: 2000 Warnings: None. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in March 1998. Summary: The article hits the newstands. 

@grapemama​​ @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73 @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​

DRUG ENFORCEMENT AGENCY UNDER FIRE FOR GENDER-BASED DISCRIMINATION 

America was captivated by the DEA’s pursuit of the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar. Following his death in 1993, two names became synonymous with the chase — but there was another name carefully removed from the narrative. 

In 1987, Annie Morley transferred to Colombia from the DEA’s Atlanta Division eager to make a name for herself within one of the government’s most notorious agencies. Her drive led to numerous successful apprehensions. Most notably, she led the takedown on a notorious associate of Escobar within her first twenty-four hours with the agency. 

The DEA rewarded her loyalty to the agency by burying her efforts and scrubbing her dedication from the record books. 

Following Escobar’s death, Morley entered into a quiet relationship with her longtime partner, Javier Peña. After years of fighting against the rampant sexism at the embassy, she was forced to conceal not only the relationship, but the paternity of her daughter.

The DEA’s response to her pregnancy was to place her on indefinite desk duty, prematurely ending the career of one of their best field agents. She was replaced by Chris Fiestle, a junior agent with a record for complacency, forged documentation, multiple disciplinary infractions, and at least one harassment-based misdemeanor on his record. Fiestle’s connections within the DEA agency allowed for his unowned momentum, despite his unfavourable records. While Morley found herself under increased scrutiny, harassment, and intimidation merely due to her transition into motherhood.

Once the couple’s relationship became known to the agency, the DEA swiftly severed Morley’s employment and terminated her work permit sponsorship in Colombia. Morley and Peña have provided the paper with first person accounts and documentation of numerous actions undertaken by the DEA to silence, intimidate, harassment, and even blackmail them into subjugation. 

Files obtained by the Post, courtesy of the Freedom of Information Act have confirmed internal communication between several upper level members of the DEA actively conspiring against the couple. Including, but not limited to, explicit correspondence reflecting on the nature of Morley’s morals and whether other members of the agency would be willing to “share her”. 

Two years ago, Peña contacted the Post to investigate Morley’s omission from official DEA records and was met by the DEA financially blackmailing one of his students at The University of Miami, orchestrating false sexual assault claims in an attempt to silence their attempts at going to the press with their story.

The Post will continue coverage on these shocking allegations next month. 

 ———

 The newspaper trembled as your eyes skimmed over the article. There it was. In print. The summation of your six years with the DEA. Pictures of the three of you on assignment — a copy of the one that had sat framed in your apartment for years. You had been there. You had given your blood, sweat, and tears to the agency and in return, they’d buried your contributions all because you had become a mother. 

“I didn’t know that.” You remarked, peering over the edge of the newspaper, watching Javier as he read through his own copy of the Post. 

“What?” He questioned, arching a brow at you. 

“That they wanted to share me.” Just repeating what you had read made your skin crawl. You sat in briefings with those assholes — stupidly thinking they saw you as an agent and not as a woman. “I must’ve missed that in the FOIA files.” 

Javier nodded, “That’s tame, in comparison to what Vickers has sitting on his desk.” He reached over and gave your leg a squeeze. “You good, baby?”

“It’s just surreal.” You admitted, covering his hand with yours as you sat up. “I never thought it would come to this, you know? When we were back in Colombia — before Josie… I would never have imagined this.” You gestured to the paper. 

And it was just the beginning. Now that it was out, you were certain the DEA would retaliate. They’d dredge up something to hurt your image, to hurt Javier’s. They played dirty and you weren’t sure how swift their retaliation would be this time. 

“I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Chris reads this.” Javier said, loosely shaking out the newspaper before folding it closed and sitting it aside on the coffee table. He stared at you for a long moment and you could feel his eyes on you. “C’mere baby.” 

You sighed heavily as you sat the newspaper aside, crawling down the length of the sofa to him. Javier pulled you into his arms and you settled against his chest, listening to his heart beating beneath your ear. 

“Are you glad we did this?” Javier questioned, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. “I think so.” You trailed your fingers over his arm, drawing little patterns against his skin. “You know, it’s really wild to see our relationship put to print. Because it was a quiet affair, we’ve never made it into something.” 

Javier played his fingers through your hair gently, his other hand sliding down your back. “Do you want to make it into something?”

“No.” 

“I didn’t think so.” He chuckled quietly. “But you’re not wrong, baby. Seeing the two of us in the paper like this — it’s fucking weird.” Javier gestured to the newspaper on the table. “Seeing everything put so plainly, spelled out for the world to see.”

You tilted your head to press a kiss to his throat, “Thank you for this very belated Christmas gift.”

Javier snorted, “Well, we had to have a baby and move first, didn’t we?” He stroked his fingers up and down your back. 

You cracked a smile, resting your cheek against his chest again. “The last year has been a blur.” 

“Make that ten years.”

“Truly.” Your eyes flickered towards the newspaper, your heart best quickening as you stared at the picture of yourself right there on the front page. 

One. Two. Three.

You exhaled heavily.

Javier pressed a kiss to the top of your head, just as the phone started ringing in the kitchen. “I should get that. It might be the daycare.” He remarked, reluctantly starting to get up. 

You pulled away from him, reclining back on the sofa as you watched him head into the kitchen to catch the call on the third ring. 

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s for you.”

Your brows rose upwards are the somewhat odd tone Javier was using. You hadn’t actually considered that people might call you in regards to the paper until that moment. 

“Who is it?” You questioned, hands on your hips as you stared at him. He had the receiving pressed to his chest to muffle out your voices. 

“Lance.”

“What?”

Javier shrugged, a casual indifference that you knew wasn’t indifference. 

“Javi,” You rolled your eyes as you took the phone from him. You turned back towards the wall to press the speaker button on the phone. “Hey, Lance! You’re on speaker.”

Lance chuckled coolly, “Saw the headlines this morning, thought I ought to drop a line.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” You admitted, folding your arms across your chest. “How’s Sheena?”

“It’s going great. We actually just moved back closer to her parents. She’ll need the help in about four months.”

“Congratulations, Lance.” You offered, “I know how much you wanted kids.”

“Got my wish too. Twins.”

Javier arched a brow at you, looking in between you and the phone. 

“What?” You mouthed. 

He shook his head and headed over to make himself a cup of coffee, eyes still flickering your direction. 

“How are your kids doing?”

“Josie’s a spitfire. I don’t know how she’s going to manage kindergarten.”

“Kindergarten? No shit. How the hell is she five?”

You laughed, “She’s still got a couple months. And Sofía’s doing really well.”

“Sofía. Sheena actually has that one on the name list.”

“It was my mother’s name.” Javier remarked, with just the edge of annoyance to his voice. You stepped away from the phone, curling your fingers around his arm. 

“Stop.” You whispered when he tried to pull his arm away from you. 

“Well then, I’ll promise to steer Sheena away from the name then.” Lance remarked with a good-natured laugh. 

Javier’s expression softened as you cupped his cheek and leaned up on your toes to kiss him. You drew back, brushing your nose against his. “You jealous fool.” You whispered just for him, ruffling your fingers through his hair. 

“I wish I was calling just to congratulate the two of you for sticking it to the DEA, but I, uh… I come with some unfavorable information.” 

You stiffened and Javier reached for your hand. “What do you mean by unfavorable news?”

“Looks like the DEA got ahead of your story in the Post,” Lance explained. “First thing this morning I had the public relations team at the DEA Headquarters calling me. They were wanting any information I would give them about our relationship.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Javier hissed out. 

“Easy there, Peña.” Lance warned him, “I told them we had a good relationship, but we both ultimately wanted different things. They seemed rather disappointed to find out you and I still talk.” 

Javier’s hand tightened around yours. 

“What kind of questions were they asking?” You questioned, biting down on your bottom lip as you worried about what the DEA could possibly be up to. “Specific questions about our relationship?”

“Start and end date. Whether I suspected that you and Javier were more than partners.” Lance chuckled. “You and I were long over before the two of you got together. I told them they didn’t have a story with me. But that means they’re going to be following other leads that might be able to discredit your story.”

“We have the fucking FOID files. There’s nothing to discredit.” You seethed.  

“You’re welcome to pass my contact info along to the journalist,” Lance told you. “I’m happy to lend whatever assistance I might be able to render.” 

“You might be a fucking suit, but you’re not a bad guy, Lance.” Javier retorted, his tongue pressed into his cheek as he glared at the phone.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Peña.” Lance countered. “You make her happy and frankly that’s all I care about. You two have a good rest of your day.” 

“Thanks for calling, Lance. I’ll pass your information along to Vickers.” You offered as you stepped towards the phone to hang up. “It’s not like we should be surprised that the DEA is already trying to damage control.” 

Javier gave you a look, his lips drawn thin. “So you keep in touch with Lance?”

You rolled your eyes, “You are ridiculous. You should be thanking me for keeping in touch with him. Otherwise we wouldn’t know what the DEA is up to right now.” You approached him, poking him in the chest. “Once again, I prove to be a better agent than you.” 

“And how’s that?” He questioned, curling his hand around your hip as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“I keep people close,” You answered, resting a hand on his shoulder. “People who someone might be able to turn against me. I keep that relationship — no matter how badly it ended — in good condition. The old adage is ‘an enemy of my enemy, is my friend’ and I try to keep that from being used against me.” 

“Is that why you went to coffee with Elena?” 

You shrugged, “I always liked Elena.” 

“Me too.” He admitted, “She let me talk about you.” 

You made a face, “Pretty sure I talked about you to Lance and neither of us knew why.” You reached down and took both of his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers before bringing them to your lips. You pressed a kiss to each knuckle. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Look what the DEA did just because of a FOIA.” 

“Yeah.” Javier sighed heavily, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “I’ll fucking tear that entire institution down if they try to hurt you for this. I’ll burn it all to the ground.” 

“Oh, arson.” You pursed your lips, giving him an appraising look. “I hadn’t taken you for an arsonist.” 

Javier snorted, tracing his tongue over the edges of his teeth, “DEA deserves to burn. And I’ll use the embers to keep you warm, baby.” 

“I’ll get the matches.” You smirked, tracing your fingertip down the length of his nose, before you tilted your chin and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

[melancholydreadfuldream]

Dreamer File 01

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x reader

Warning: angst

More warning: English is not my native language and I suck at it but I wanted to write for DW so here it is. My name is (YN) (LN) and I'm a traveler in time and space. I met the Doctor on his tenth incarnation. He picked me up alongside Rose. I have been with him for so long. He is a wonderful man so of course I ended up catching feeling for him. But he only have eyes for Rose.

Rose has the advantage because she has been with him the longer and I have to admit that she is a wonderful person but she is possessive of the Doctor. I'm the third wheel in this. They laughed and joked around and I didn't feel included. At least, the Doctor didn't kick me out because I do love to travel with them.

When Rose is gone trapped in the other world, his love for Rose is so great he even burn out a sun just to say goodbye. How can I ever compete with her? No chance.

The Doctor wanted to drop me home despite my protest. He said if I stay with him, I will ended up like Rose.

Before he could though, Donna appeared on board of the Tardis and we ended up having to sort her out.

He invited Donna to come with us but she refused. I felt hurt that the Doctor invited her when he said he want to drop me off. Did he got tired of me? That is so unfair.

Thankfully the Doctor no longer insisted that I go home. We eventually met Martha and she became a fellow traveler.

I could tell that Martha is smitten with the Doctor. I warned her that the Doctor is still hung up on Rose.

The Doctor didn't treat me and Martha very well. We endured it but one day I just snapped.

"I know you are still hurting over Rose but Martha and I deserve better than your treatment so far. Doctor, we love traveling with you and I know we can't replace Rose. She has a special position in your hearts. But I would appreciate it if you stop comparing us with her."

The Doctor is silent and I thought he will be mad at me. But he told me he didn't mean to make us feel like that and promise to do better.

And then the Family of Blood happened. Martha and I ended up having to care for a human Doctor. We worked as servants at the military school where John Smith will be a teacher.

He fell in love with Nurse Redfern. I can't help feeling bitter about it. Why am I never the one? I could drive myself crazy thinking about it so I don't. I pushed my feeling down. I am lucky that Martha is with me. I don't think I could bear it alone.

When John Smith turned back as the Doctor, I am glad to leave that time period behind.

I think my relationship with the Doctor improve a little during the time we got marooned on the year 1960. We have a moment together under a starry sky on top of a building after I finished my work. I also bonded some more with Martha since we both have to work hard to support the Doctor.

Then things with Jack and the Master happened. It was the worst time of my life. My father was taken on board the Valiant by the Master as hostage.

For some reason, the Doctor send Martha off to do whatever he told her to do. He didn't ask me to go with her and so I stayed and wonder if he think so little of me that I can't do whatever it was he tasked Martha to do. Maybe I really am useless.

During my time aboard the Valiant, between the mental and physical abuse from the Master, my father got a heart attack and died. I cried so hard that day. I didn't even get to bury his body. The Master ordered the soldiers to throw his body off the ship. I wanted to kill him but Martha's family stopped me before I did a stupid thing.

I cried and begged the Doctor to fix it. I knew that was selfish of me to ask that of the helpless Doctor but I was out of my mind with grief.

Then Martha came back and the paradox machine got destroyed. The Doctor returned to his former self and able to neutralize the Master.

Everything got a reset. The world had forgotten about what happened. The year that never was. Except for the lot on board of the Valiant. I didn't get my father back. I hated the Master with my whole life. I picked up the gun, wanting to kill him but the Doctor stopped me.

The Master is dead, shot by his dutiful wife. I only felt bad for the Doctor for losing the only other Time Lord but I'm also relieved because if he is alive and the Doctor take him on board of the Tardis, I don't think I could cope.

Martha decided to leave us. I couldn't leave the Doctor. The man with the sad eyes, how could I? Also it was easy because I no longer have any family now my father is gone.

I don't even want to sort my life anymore. I want to stay with the Doctor for as long as I could. Martha warned how unhealthy my choice was.

"Don't waste your life for someone who didn't appreciates you..." She said. "But maybe...you still have hope with him. I saw how he look at you. But be careful, don't let yourself be second best for someone, not even him."

But the thing is I will always be second best compare to Rose. And yet I can't bring myself to leave him. Not brave enough, not strong enough.

After she left, it was only the Doctor and I. We didn't talk much except during adventures. There were times when I caught him looking at me but he never said a word.

When Donna joined us, I felt so grateful because she made the mood more lively.

Donna knew of my feeling for the Doctor and often pushed me to be with the Doctor even after I told her that he still in love with Rose.

Of course, I had to experience almost dying of poison before I decided to confess to him.

"I love you, Doctor. I know you didn't feel the same and that's all right." I lied. "But I just want you to know how much you are loved and that this is not your fault. I choose this. I choose you."

But then, he managed to cure me and thing become awkward between us. Donna who heard my confession, pushed me to have a talk with him.

"No way. Just pretend that it didn't happen. He doesn't feel the same. I don't want to be a  nuisance. What if he drop me home and never come back because of this?" I ranted at Donna.

I don't know what Donna said to him but the Doctor ended up cornering me for a talk. Thankfully, he didn't kick me out as I feared. He made sure I knew that he care for me. He didn't exactly rejected me and he is being confusing when he kissed me in the forehead.

Donna pushed the both of us to have a date night together and to my surprise, he didn't turn away the idea. Of course, having a sort of date night with tour on Midnight, didn't end well when the Doctor almost killed by the passengers and I'm helpless to stop it.

Then Rose come back. I missed her but I resented her for coming back. The Doctor forgot about me and it's all about her.

Donna and Jack comforted me. Jack knew of my feeling for the Doctor during the year that never was. He sympathized with my situation because he also knew that the Doctor is all about Rose.

Martha is right, I should have left. But I can't.

The Daleks forced the Tardis into their ship and then Donna got trapped on the Tardis, presumed to be dead.

Rose took the Doctor's hand to comfort her and once again I was left behind. My heart hurts.

Next thing I knew there are two Doctor. A metacrisis,the Doctor said.

After we saved the world, Martha approached me and she give me a hug. I hugged her back.

"Remember what I said." She said before she said goodbye to the Doctor and left the Tardis.

I sat in the corner alone watching the others interact with each other. There were only Donna, Rose, Jackie and the metacrisis doctor left. The Doctor was outside saying goodbye to Martha, Jack and Mickey.

"Are you okay?"

I jumped in surprise when I saw the metacrisis doctor stand before me.

"I'm okay." I forced a smile.

"Why are you sitting alone?"

"I hates goodbye."

"Me too."

I wonder if I should ask him about his feeling for me. He still technically is the Doctor. But I'm a coward, too afraid of the answer.

The Doctor entered the Tardis and proclaimed their next destination, Bad Wolf Bay.

I was confused why he did that. Rose is staying, isn't she?

I observed the conversation between the Doctor, Rose and the metacrisis from the Tardis doorway.

I heard Rose proclaimed loudly about what she said last and what the Doctor intended to say during their last meeting.

And then I saw Rose kissing the metacrisis.

The Doctor and Donna got inside the Tardis and we left them behind.

"Doctor..." I called out. I stopped, unsure if I should mention Rose again. Will it really be okay to leave Rose again? Didn't he love her so much?

Donna pulled me aside and told me about how Rose and metacrisis will get to stay and grow old together.

I felt like a dose of cold water being poured over my head. Of course, the Doctor is immortal and I am not. How could we ever work out? How could he stand to have me? I will die someday and he will move on from me. He gave Rose the greatest gift he could ever give. But where that left me?

I didn't get the chance to break down because of what happened next to Donna.

The Doctor erased her memory of us and dropped her home.

We are alone again, only the two of us again.

"I'm not going anywhere." I blurted suddenly which surprise the Doctor and the smile he gave me next made me pushes down all my insecurities aside temporarily.

I hugged him tight and he hugged me back.

I was scared and worried about the future but I keep being in denial about it and continue to run away with the Doctor.

The Doctor has become somewhat affectionate with me. He didn't say he love me but he would look at me with that warm grin that I loved. Almost look like the grin he shared when he was with Rose. Almost. It did make me hoping that he finally see me.

I think the Doctor is sad but he wouldn't tell me why. He seemed to be running from something. It wasn't until later that I learned about how he is going to die and regenerate into a new man.

The Master is alive and took over the world in creepy way. Every last human on Earth turned into his clone.

Of course, the Doctor saved the day. But at a cost, to save Donna's grandfather, he sacrificed himself and now he is dying.

He went to his farewell tour while I remained at the Tardis.

When he returned on board, I knew he is about to drop me off for my own safety.

"I'm not going anywhere. Don't you dare say goodbye to me or I will hate you forever!" I yelled stubbornly.

He sighed at my stubbornness. "You always stay with me even after I hurt you. Why?"

"You know why."

He nodded with a sad smile. "It's time..." He whispered as he started to glow.

I watched in tears. "Doctor..."

"I don't want to go..." He whispered.

And then he changed into a new man right before my eyes.

I didn't get a look at him because the Tardis is crashing.

I woke up on the floor near the swimming pool. There was blood on my face. I think I got bumped my head pretty hard.

There was a strange man in front of me, fussing over me.

"Let me take a look at you. Oooh, you look like you might have concussion. That’s no good."

"Doc...tor?"

He smiled at me. "Hello again."

[electriscar]

in which a secretary is talked to and a plan is put in motion to free a particular cicin mage. [  relevant to : @scaramouched  ]

it’s unusual for this mage, nameless because she’s forgotten, to be here at all — thus, she doesn’t realize how strange it is that it’s empty, that the one who ought to be here isn’t.  she doesn’t know how this organizational system typically works, either, and she doesn’t know that this was far simpler to find than it ought to have been.  all she knows is that she’s found what she’s looking for, finally — muttering the numbered code to herself as she pages through sheets of paper within this file.  it’s a struggle to stay upright, body still not fully healed from her spat with her superior, trembling, but adrenaline spurs her on.

maybe it’s naiveté — desperate, forced naiveté — that she hasn’t already realized.  she knew the code was something do with dottore the moment that scaramouche offered it to her, throwing a bone to a dog you’ve kicked into cowering — and while she does not know the depths to which the man has fallen, she is not stupid.  but she doesn’t want to believe that her sister may be ——

“ruin guard...unit number...there.”  it’s whispered — she doesn’t realize it’s strange that the secretary is, for the moment, nowhere to be found, but she knows too well to pretend as though she thinks she won’t be punished for this; if her superior finds out, they may well opt to kill her thoroughly.  perhaps that would be a mercy.  the thought startles — she’d forgotten until recently that there was a her to kill at all.

her body screams.  being within the fatui and being a cicin mage have been long stories of pain, of being harmed, of wanting that, but the agony he’d subjected her to exceeds those other breakings by far.  the scars are fresh and standing is a struggle, but she doesn’t care that he broke her.  not if it means she gets to find —

“subject used : se —”  a sharp inhale shatters the name in two.  no.  it — that would mean — she flips a page back.  there’s a picture of her sister.  niya doesn’t want to understand, but she is beginning to.  “subject file — deemed unfit for combat after subsequent mission failure and injury.  requisitioned by —”

the words blur.  her hands tighten until her knuckles whiten, and her vision blurs, and she remembers her name again because she remembers her sister saying it, smiling.  her sister.  her sister.  her sister.  identity crashes into her, it hurts, she wants to laugh, she wants to break, she wants to scream, she wants to kill everyone in this fucking place, she wants wants wants wants ———

she wants.  she’d forgotten there was a she, individual, separate, whole, that could want — not just a piece of many.  she wants.  she lets out a sobbing wail, forgetting about hiding — the scream turns into a desperate laugh, manic, bright, bright, bright, bright, burning.  burning!  that’s funny, that’s funny, it was her sister that was named for burning!  that’s funny!  her sister, who she broke for, who she’s dying for, is gone!  is gone!  is ———

not gone.  the thought cuts the laugh short with a gasp; she stumbles back, hits a wall, slides to sit.  her hands press to her face, eyes wild.  not gone.  she’s crying, she realizes, she can’t stop.  she’s screaming again, she thinks.  not gone.  sister’s not gone.  sister’s still there.  sister’s still serving, serving.  anything for the fatui.  anything for the fatui.  her nails dig into her cheeks until she’s bleeding.  anything for tsaritsa.  she bites hard into her hand, sharp teeth breaking skin.  anything for the tsaritsa.  she’s still serving!  she’s not gone!

nobody gets to go.  tools.  a bad tool gets broken into a good one.  she pushes herself to stand, trembling, barely, not breathing.  her sister’s not even allowed to be dead.  she wants to break this place.  she wants to turn the first person she finds to ash.  but she — she has to — she has to save her, and she can’t —

she becomes aware, abruptly, that scaramouche wanted her to find this.

she’s not sure when she leaves the room.  she’s not sure where she is it all until she hears a quiet gasp when she stumbles past another door and sees — she can’t remember his name.  dottore’s secretary.  she doesn’t think of what she looks like, eyes huge and ringed with red, hands bleeding, face bleeding.  wants to break.  wants to shatter.  wants to burn, burn, make him scream.  she — doesn’t.

“we’re sorry,” the mage murmurs, unthinking.  she flits rapidly between being i / being we; hard to distinguish self when her mind is like this.  i.  i.  i.  i have a sister.  we have nothing.  “i...messed up your files.”

he looks afraid.  she wonders why, then doesn’t.  maybe he expects her to break him.  maybe scaramouche told him she might.  “ah — are you...?”

“you can tell my lord that we found it,” she interrupts, staring past him, eyes drifting towards the ceiling after a moment.  the habitual term for her superior feels funny in her mouth.  she giggles.  my lord, not to be mistaken with my god, both of whom i despise.  “i understand.”

“do you?”

“yes.”

he doesn’t seem to believe her.  maybe he thinks she’s mad.  she smiles, tears on her cheeks, she smiles, are you having fun?  they’re all mad, he should know that.  what good is a weapon with a mind?  she wishes she didn’t smile when she hurt.  she wishes she knew how to stop.

“i...understand.”  she is hurting her sister is gone / not gone / she is tired and wounded and hurting and feels what little sanity they left her slipping but she is clinging clinging claws buried into to this single truth : i am going to save and avenge my sister.  and so she understands that she can’t die yet.  that she can’t give them reason to kill her.  “i’m...going to be good, now.”

it’s not hard, to be broken.  to be so sick with despair that she would choose to easy role of forgetting herself, so thoroughly shattered that she would sink willingly into empty use.

if she can make them believe it, she can find her sister.  or whatever’s left of her.  and free her, finally.  and free her, finally.  and free herself, finally.

well.  not herself, not yet.  but she can run, and take her revenge, and when that is done, however many years it is, then she can free herself.

she says, voice quiet, it’s not even a lie : “it hurts too much to know things.  to be whole.  i don’t...want it.”  a giggle breaks her, the syllables.  “you can tell my lord that i found it.  that i’ve...given up.”

she stumbles past the secretary, smiling, screaming on the inside.  she’ll have to think of a name.  just now, she can’t remember her old one.

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 3)

Ao3 

Chapter Three Cassian

Cassian sighed and put down the papers in his hand. He had spent the last few hours going over the updated list of figures Rhys and Az had given to him before he left. The discontent amongst the clans was growing at an alarming rate and he didn’t know how to stop it. He could deal with the Illyrian’s hating him — he had dealt with that his entire bastard-given life — but the thought that he could be the reason they went head-to-head in a civil war felt like a knife to the gut.

Guilt still ate away at him at the memory of those soldiers turning to ash before his eyes. He dreamt of it most nights; of Nesta screaming his name, the sound a dull roar in his ears as he turned without thinking and flew straight towards her. Even now, he felt the terror that had lanced through his body at the thought that she was hurt; that he wouldn’t be in time to save her; that they had wasted so much time…

But in the end, the matter still stood: he had left his soldiers to die for a female that had rejected him and he would never forgive himself for it. Their families had every right to despise him. He despised himself.

Resigned, Cassian fastened the papers with string as Mas came through the back door. She smiled at him, pushing back her snow-covered hood in the entryway. He watched her flare her wings behind her, flinging the wet snow that had settled on them during her journey back out into the snow.

The mottled mass of scar tissue across the housekeeper’s dark membrane was bared when her wings were fully stretched. It always pained Cassian to see them — to know how she had suffered every day at the hands of others before he had put a stop to it.

That was something else that was getting worse too: the treatment of females amongst the camps. The clippings.

Windhaven was the exception, especially with Cassian being based at the camp full-time: it meant he was there to keep an eye on things. And whilst Lord Devlon may be a pain in his ass at the best of times, he was a fairer Camp Lord than most and generally followed Rhys's laws — even if he did grumble and snarl along the way.

But at the other camps where the clans were still rooted in old tradition, clippings were still frequent. They happened behind closed doors out of the public eye, but Cassian had seen young females who couldn’t have had more than one or two bleedings with those silver lines down their wings. It made him want to kill — to rip the camps apart like he had done before until he found who was responsible — but it would only encourage the dissent amongst the males. Cassian needed to catch the bastards in the act if he were to punish anyone, so he stayed silent, filing away the information to include in his reports.

Because the uncomfortable truth of it was that the Illyrian’s had just lost vast numbers of warriors to war, and with their depleted numbers, they were doing everything they could to ensure the continuity of their race. For them, that meant clipping their females so they couldn’t fly away. Fae pregnancies were rare and precious as it was, and those traditional Illyrian bastards would be damned if they allowed one female to leave if they had the potential to pop out a worthy warrior to join their ranks.

Cassian had been too late to save his mother. He had been too late to save Mas’s wings. He would not be too late to save others. He couldn’t live with it.

Not wanting to be caught staring at the scar tissue, Cassian adjusted his gaze just as Mas dipped her head in her customary nod. She held up a paper bag.

“For Lady Nesta,” she explained.

Cassian forced himself to smile. “Thanks Mas. Was it much trouble?”

The housekeeper shook her head. “I made the dresses to your exact measurements, but I can alter them if you need me to. They will be easy to take out.”

A slight pause followed, as if to emphasise the fact that Nesta was too thin. As if he wasn’t horribly aware of it already.

“Everything else you asked me for is in there, too,” she added.

“Thank you.”

“And this is for you.”

Mas balanced a glass vial on the table in front of him.

He looked at her in surprise. “Lavender oil?”

“To help you sleep.”

He started to shake his head in protest but she cut him off. “Anak, you pay me enough. Let me do this for you.”

Cassian closed his fingers around the small bottle. Lavender oil wasn’t expensive but it wasn’t cheap either. Even though he paid her handsomely, Mas continued to live in the widow’s camp halfway up the mountain, where she was exposed to some of the harshest weather conditions Illyria had to offer. To trek up the cliff was treacherous at the best of times, without factoring in the battering winds and the threat of ice and snow. It made his piss-poor tent at the edge of the camp look like a luxury when he was growing up. Before his brother had saved him, of course.

Cassian only wished that Mas would let him save her, too. But he knew he wouldn’t win that battle. Mas might need the money for warmer clothes and food for the other widows and orphans, but she was an Illyrian through and through. That meant that she was stubborn. He’d have to make up the money to her in another way.

“I could do with something to help me sleep,” Cassian admitted finally.

Mas simply nodded at him before eyeing the empty saucepan on the stove. She raised an eyebrow. “You made chai? Shall I make some more?”

Cassian stood with the paper bag in hand. “Please. Add the ingredients to the shopping list from now on.”

Because no matter how hard Nesta had tried to hide it, Cassian had seen the way she had sighed around her mug at the first taste of chai. It was the only thing she’d willingly consumed at breakfast. Mother Above, he’d have it on tap if it meant she’d drink something other than whisky.

“I’ll go and give these to Nesta now,” Cassian told Mas.

It was time to face the hellcat.

***

Moments later, Cassian was poised outside of the spare bedroom. Not allowing himself to hesitate, he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

“Go away.”

It was not an unexpected response, given their last interaction. And even though his insides snarled in annoyance, Cassian refused to allow it to show in his voice, as he said wryly, “Don’t tell me you’ve traded my shirt for nothing but skin.”

The actual thought of Nesta bared made his mouth go dry and he fought the urge to swallow. To say he wasn’t reeling from that old trick she had played on him earlier would be a lie. Having her that close to him and smelling his scent all over her... it had taken all his control not to do something he would regret. Like shoving her against the nearest wall and burying his head between her legs.

Cassian had thought at one point that he had felt something flare between them; a flare that had him breaking every one of his damned rules about staying away. But then she had shoved him with a strength that had sent him staggering and the moment was broken. It was the first true sign he had seen of her powers since Hybern.

In some twisted wring of fate, it had only made him want her more.

For the most part, Cassian had stopped bedding females after Nesta had been Made. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, he just didn’t have the appetite for it. It was something that hadn't gone unnoticed by his friends — they had never known him to go so long without having a tussle amongst the sheets. The result had been some off-hand comments, with Rhys remarking on more than one occasion that the muscles in Cassian’s right arm looked overworked. The last time he’d made the observation had been at dinner: Azriel’s laughter had been so uninhibited his shadows had completely disappeared and Mor — in her usual fashion — had snorted so hard that wine had come out of her nose.

Feyre, to her credit, had only looked pityingly at him — as if she knew the exact reason why he was no longer fucking like it was going out of fashion — as she silently handed Mor a napkin.

But Cassian wasn’t a saint. There had been a few occasions in the past year when his judgement had lapsed; it was usually when he’d gotten outrageously drunk or when a recent encounter with Nesta had left him furious and hollow. The former usually followed the latter and Cassian always felt awful afterwards, especially when he’d peer through bleary, red eyes with a pounding hangover to realise that he’d chosen a female with a similar body shape or hair or eyes to the eldest Archeron sister.

At least he wouldn’t be making any further bedding mistakes in Illyria. Cassian wouldn’t bed any of the females here. They were victims of his race’s sexist traditions as it was, and he’d be damned if he added fuel to the fire by fucking for a moments pleasure, especially when a lowly bastard would do nothing for their marriage prospects.  

Now, Cassian listened outside of Nesta’s door and waited for a response. When none came, he turned the knob and pushed it open.

Nesta was sitting with her back against the headboard of the bed, an open book in her hands. She was still wearing his shirt, but her legs were covered with the duvet and the throw he had draped over her last night. The room was so cold his breath clouded in front of him.

She did not bother to look up at him as he entered, and even though anger bloomed within him, he strode wordlessly towards the empty fire grate and started to stack logs from the wicker basket.  

But one word from her made him still.

“Don’t.” Nesta did not look up from her book. She merely turned the page. Unfazed. Bored. “I don’t like fires.”

Cassian blinked, surprised at the finality in her voice. He had seen her guard the armchair next to the fireplace in the town house as fiercely as Amren surveilled her jewellery. He knew, because he used to spend his entire time there pretending not to look at her. Stupid of him really, seeing as everyone else most likely spent their time watching him watch her.

Deciding to tread carefully, Cassian tucked away the nugget of information she had offered him for later analysis.

“You’ll soon change your mind living here,” he said casually.

Nesta pushed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. It was still loose, the ends curling softly as they dried. She looked younger with her hair down and even more beautiful, if that was possible, despite her too-thin face. It made her features softer… less sharp. Sometimes he forgot that she was only twenty-four. How many mistakes had he made by that age? Too many to count — the worst being Mor… He still regretted that.

Nesta still didn’t glance up at him as she said, “I won’t change my mind.”

Cassian wanted to push her further — to ask her why — but he had been a General long enough to know when to let something lie. So he changed tactic, striding towards the head of the bed.

He fed her a shit-eating grin that he knew would have left pre-war Nesta incensed.

“Smut again?” he asked lightly.

It worked. Nesta snapped the book shut and set it over knees.

Finally — finally — those steely eyes rested on him. “I hadn’t pegged an Illyrian bat as a reader of romance.”

Cassian tilted his head to the side so he could read the book title: Love in Velaris. Oh, there was definitely smut in that book. He knew because he’d purchased it with her in mind. He’d visited a bookshop soon after Feyre had pinned him down at the House of Wind. The shopkeeper had promised him that the tale of a High Fae and Lesser Faerie discovering their mating bond was a very passionate read.  

“It must be Mor’s,” he lied smoothly.

It was the wrong thing to say. Nesta’s expression turned as cold as stone.

“Why are you here?” she demanded.

Dangling the bag of supplies Mas had brought with her in front of her face, he said drily, “I believe you were asking for clothes?”

That stubborn chin rose again. It was a signature move from Nesta Archeron and was already well-catalogued in his mind.

“I want my own clothes.”

“I know,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Azriel got held up. He’ll be here tomorrow morning. Most of your clothes won’t be warm enough though, you’d be best off with Illyrian clothing. Mas made you some dresses that should do the job. All of the essentials should be in the bag too, but let me or Mas know if you want anything else.”

Dropping the bag onto the bed by her feet he settled down onto the mattress beside her. He hoped it would annoy her — that it would encourage her to hiss at him — because any reaction was a good reaction at this stage.

Satisfaction bloomed inside of him as she purposefully tucked her feet even closer to her body with a glare that promised a slow and painful death.

Cassian had seen lesser glares start wars.

“I need to show my face in the camp. Come with me,” he said.

Her answer was defiant and didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

“It isn’t an option. Get dressed.”

For him, it was an effortless shift into the role of General and one he’d happily do more often if it made her come out of that hollow shell. It worked — something shift behind her eyes at his command. It was dark and ancient and it thrilled him.

“I said no,” Nesta snapped. “Just because you have whisked me to a secluded mountain camp against my will does not mean I will obey your every command. I do not wish to go, so leave me alone.”

She stared him down, daring him to challenge her. And she expected him to, because that was the twisted game they played; as sharp as any sword fight. Strike, parry, strike, until one of them was so wounded or consumed with rage that they couldn’t carry on.

So Cassian did the unexpected: he shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he said.

Slowly, he stood. He made a point of stretching, of giving the impression that he was nothing but relaxed, stretching his wings until he felt the burn in his tendons. Eventually, when he knew she was close to throwing something at him, he closed the door behind him and finally left her alone.

***

Over the next six days, Cassian barely saw Nesta. At first he brought her food — soup and smoothies, and plenty of chai tea. The whisky came at tapered intervals and he did everything in his power to get some conversation out of her… But as she slipped further and further into withdrawal, she retreated deeper into herself. Soon enough, she was little more than a shaking, sweating frame of bones.

Nesta always ignored him and eventually he stopped coming at all — he couldn’t bare to see the hollow look in her eyes — and when Mas cleared the trays the food was half gone at best. At worst, the food was untouched.

She always drank the whisky.

At night he slept fitfully, jolting awake when he heard her retching. Often he found himself half way to the bathroom before he realised he had moved without thinking. Forcing himself back into bed, he would lay awake and stare at the ceiling until he heard her door snick shut. Visions of her panting and sweating as she rested her head on the toilet seat, or as she curled up on the cold tile floor, haunted him. And he dreamt of the war; as his wings were snapped again and again at the hand of the King and she draped herself across his broken body; of the males he lost as the Cauldron was unleashed, their ash tossed about on the fierce wind.

Wanting to do something, Cassian asked Mas to supply Nesta with even more warmer clothing and toiletries. He made sure she had fleece-lined nightgowns and socks to ward off the chill, fresh bedding and tonics to calm her stomach. He gave her a bag of her belongings, which Az had winnowed in on the second day. But she just lay in bed, curled in a ball, her eyes glazed and unmoved.

In the meantime, he oversaw daily training and reasserted his power with the arrogant War Lords in the surrounding camps. He fought everyday with anyone who dared to face him; fought until his knuckles bled and his siphons blinkered until they were near drained. He always returned home and he delayed his trip further north.

He still couldn’t stay away.

***

Mor winnowed into Windhaven on the seventh day, just after he had finished overseeing the girls morning training with Devlon. Only four girls had showed up and he was in a piss poor mood as he stomped back to the house, only to see his friend appear on the melting snow just outside of the house — a ray of sunshine in the otherwise grey and white landscape.

Wrapping her long white cloak around her body to shield her from the wind that whistled through the mountain pass, Mor smiled at him, her long golden hair whipping behind her. Cassian forced his mouth to do the same and lifted a hand in greeting. It took more effort than he liked to admit.

“It’s not like you to come to Illyria of your own free will, dearest Morrigan. What do I owe the pleasure?” he drawled.

He flashed her a grin but Mor’s smile dropped as he approached. Only concern lay across her features as she closed the distance between them and wrapped her fingers around his sleeve.

“Cassian, you look —“ She searched for the word as her eyes examined his face, “ravaged.”

“What a way to greet one of your oldest friends,” he teased. “You may as well have said, Cassian, you look like shit.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “I did not say that.” She stamped her feet to ward off the cold. "Can we go inside? It's freezing.”

They shucked off their shoes and headed straight to the kitchen once they were inside. Mor was unusually silent, as if she knew not to speak until they were past the spare bedroom whose door was firmly closed.

Cassian had briefly seen Nesta that morning. He had taken her breakfast: a smoothie — the only food she usually touched — and her last glass of whisky. He had been pleased to see her sitting up in bed when he came in, even if she did smell like vomit and her hair was hanging limp and tangled around her face. She looked more gaunt than ever, her collarbone jutting out starkly from the loose nightgown she was wearing.

It had made his heart ache, but he had only placed the whisky on the small bedside table as he said, “Last one. How are you feeling?”

Her hollow eyes had slid to him then and for a moment, he thought she was going to speak to him. But then she had sunk down onto the mattress, her body twisting away from him in silent dismissal so he had left, reassuring her that Mas would be there to in a few hours to check up on her.

Again, it had been the lack of cold admonishment that she could look after herself that had haunted him the most — the crushing silence that lay in its absence. It had made him miss her fire more than anything.

“Is it too early to drink?” Mor asked, dragging him out of his thoughts as she peered hopefully at the clock above the kitchen table.

“I’m currently an alcohol free household,” he reminded her. “I can offer you tea?”

“Ah yes,” Mor chirruped, hopping up on to the kitchen counter as he put the cast iron kettle on top of the stove. “How is everything going?”

Cassian pressed his lips together. “Badly.”

Mor knew him well enough not to push for more details. “And the camps?”

“Worse.”

Mor’s face darkened as he told her about the past few days; about the brutalised females he had seen despite the laws Rhys had put in place and the hatred swelling in the few camps he had already visited; their anger at Rhys and the inner circle for taking them to war — for the Illyrian’s that had died under his command.

Just rehashing it had the guilt settling over him like a dark cloud.

“I’ve been trying to reassert dominance,” he explained to Mor, “but the dissent is there. I can feel it and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Mor sipped her tea. She had listened in silence whilst he spoke, but now she set down her mug.

“Maybe Azriel should come and join you. He could help —“

“I will not make Az come here unless things are desperate. You know how he hates this place,” Cassian said tersely, cutting her off.

Mor’s expression hardened, a mirror image of his own as they thought of their friend — of the brutality he had endured at the hand of his own people.

“And how are the Illyrian’s treating Nesta?”

A smooth transition — an opening Mor had been waiting for, no doubt.

“She won’t leave the house,” Cassian said shortly. “She won’t leave her room. She spends her night throwing her guts up and her days shaking and sweating.”

Mor laid a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “She’s withdrawing. It will take a while. Mother Above, it took you a few weeks if I remember correctly.”

Fisting his palms in his eye sockets, Cassian sighed, “She won’t accept any help. She barely eats. She doesn't sleep —”

“And neither do you by the looks of it,” Mor said sharply. “Cass, let me winnow you back to the House. You can get a good nights sleep and come back tomorrow…”

“No.” The clipped word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I’m not leaving her alone.”

Mor looked as if she were about to protest and then seemed to think better of it. She clamped her lips tightly shut instead, as if it were taking all her will to trap them so whatever she wanted to say didn’t come tumbling out.

“Sorry,’ he breathed after a few moments. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching him, solemn.

Her golden hair swayed as she shook her head. “No, i’m sorry. I shouldn't have suggested it.”

Cassian laughed but it came out bitter. “No, you aren’t.”

It was no secret that Mor had lashed out at Nesta multiple times — that she had defended him from Nesta’s fire. Out of protectiveness or jealousy he wasn’t sure. He was never sure with Mor. He was glad he had never been around to see it, though. The thought of the two females going head-to-head filled him with dread.

Mor took a sudden deep breath, as if she were bracing herself. Her hands twisted in front of her, anguished. Cassian’s brow furrowed at the behaviour.

“I actually came to tell you something.”

He took her empty mug and put it in the sink. Played it casual. “Oh?”

She slid off the kitchen counter, landing softly on the flagstone tiles. Mor was always the epitome of grace and beauty. Even on the battlefield when she was slaying her enemies and knee-deep in blood and gore and filth, Mor remained fiercely elegant — a light on an otherwise dark horizon.

“Rhys has asked me to travel. To forge new alliances and gather information.”

Cassian frowned in surprise. “For how long?”

Mor shrugged. “I don’t know. I came to say goodbye. I’ll be back every few weeks or so, but with you up here…”

She trailed off.

“And the Court of Nightmares?” Cassian asked quietly.

He knew what giving that up would have meant to her. To let Keir think that he had won; that she was giving up her duties to run away and leave him to frequent Velaris as he wished — her haven.

Anguish spread across Mor’s features. “Rhys and Feyre. I wasn’t going to go when Rhys suggested it, but… I think it will be good for me. I need to separate myself from Keir and well, I need to accept some of my own truths as well.”

She turned to face him, as if what she had just said had led her to her main point. To his surprise, her eyes welled with tears.

“Cassian, I haven’t been honest with you.”

“Hey now,” Cassian hushed, automatically pulling her to him as she held her hands up to cover the tears that slid down her cheeks, “it can’t be as bad as the time you lost my best Adaman blade.”

Mor let out an indignant sniffle. “That wasn’t me, it was Rhys.”

“So you keep saying,” Cassian said lightly, “Yet Azriel swore on the Cauldron that he saw you take it from the weapons rack.”

He pulled back to survey her and affectionately tucked her blonde hair behind a pointed ear. “Now, what is it you need to tell me? I promise I won’t be mad.”

She sent him a watery smile as he cupped her cheek. Taking his hands in her own, Mor examined the white-flecked scars and the swirling black ink that licked its way down his arms.

She took a shaking breath and looked him straight in the eye. The action oozed finality and for some reason, he found himself trapping the air in his lungs as she said, “I like females more than males.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment, cataloguing the information. Analysing. And then everything clicked into place. He saw every moment between them. All of the times that he had acted as a buffer between her and Azriel; the haunted look in her eyes the days after he had ever seen her disappear with a male into the bedroom; her dancing and laughing at Rita’s…

And there was no anger or disappointment. His heart didn’t stop or clench. He only felt lighter; as if her confession was releasing him from centuries of confusion and uncertainty.

A slow grin spread across his face as he loosed a breath. “Was I that bad in bed?”

Mor snorted a laugh as Cassian pressed a kiss to her hand. He rejoiced in that — in his friend's smile.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Whatever sex you prefer makes no difference to me, Mor. I will never love you any less.”

She wiped away her tears. “I’m so sorry I used you. Not just that night but… after. And I do… I do enjoy males, but I have always preferred females. I’ve known… since I was very young.”

Cassian shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you had the confidence to tell me. No female should be chained to a male, you know I think that. I just want you to be happy.”

He pulled her to him then and she wrapped her arms around him as he squeezed her tight.

“Hey,” he said into her hair, a realisation suddenly dawning on him, “is Rita’s…?”

The corners of Mor’s mouth twitch upwards. “An incognito gay bar? Pretty much.”

“Well, that confirms why I get approached by so many males there,” Cassian mused.

Mor’s shaky laugh was full of relief and indignation. “Only you and Rhys would have such huge egos that you would expect males to proposition you whenever you’re out.”

Cassian let her go with a smirk. “I’m the general of our armies, Mor.”

“And so modest about it,” she quipped.

“Did you know I have seven siphons?”

“Listen to yourself!”

He laughed, the first time he had done so in over a week and as he did so, he felt the darkness evaporate, as if a weight had been lifted from him.

Then he sobered. “Does Az know?”

Mor bit her lip, anguished.

“No. Only Feyre knows. I was going to speak to the boys tonight. Separately of course,” she added when she saw his expression.

Cassian dipped his head in approval. “Azriel needs the closure.”

“I know,” Mor admitted quietly. “I will. I’ll… go to the House and speak to him. Do you — do you think he’ll forgive me?”

Her eyes were wide and fearful.

Cassian wanted to say yes — to make her worry disappear — but he couldn’t lie. He owed her that much.

“I don’t know.”

***

Mor had left an hour later. They had sat at the kitchen table with another cup of tea and many snacks; because as she had explained in a low whine, she had only eaten breakfast an hour ago and she might die of hunger if she didn’t eat right now.

He had let her talk, listening as she explained herself and laid herself bare for the first time. By the time she got up to leave, he felt closer to her than he ever had before, and he was glad for it.

He had smiled at her as she fastened her white fur cloak around her neck. “Don’t be a stranger, ok?”

“I won’t,” she promised.

She had waited until they were outside to ask, “Nesta’s different from the other females, isn’t she?”

Cassian had shrugged loosely, largely because he didn’t know what else to say. How to even start explaining he and Nesta Archeron: how everything had shifted and solidified on that battlefield when she’d draped herself over him; how for a moment everything had made sense.

“She is different,” Mor insisted. “I can see it on your face. Feyre’s beside herself with worry. She thinks she’s betrayed her sister.”

“It was an impossible situation.” Cassian knew his voice was too quiet, but it was too late to correct it. “Whatever we did, we’d come off badly.”

With a grimace, Mor handed him two envelopes.

“Letters from Feyre and Elain,” she explained. “Will you give them to Nesta?”

Cassian had only considered her outstretched hand warily.

Mor seemed to know what he was thinking. “I know, it might just add fuel to the fire. Take them anyway and make a decision.”

“Right,” was all he had said, as if he could really defy his High Lady.

“Az said he’ll be with you in a few days for an update.” Mor hugged him tightly. “I’ll check in on you when I can.”

He had managed a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes, before she disappeared into nothing.

Since then, he had done very little but sit on the couch by the fire, going over that same list of numbers and intel. Again and again he poured over them but the words and numbers just became a blur as his eyes went in and out of focus.

By the Cauldron, he needed to sleep.

With a sigh, Cassian put the papers down on the coffee table. When he padded into the kitchen, he found Mas washing up in the sink.

“Ok, sinta?” she called over her shoulder.

Not wanting to answer the question, Cassian deflected. “Do you want a cup of tea, Mas?”

Despite the fact he’d known Mas for years — centuries in fact — she dropped her gaze. “No, thank you.”

Cassian bit back a sigh of frustration. The expectations of Illyrian females had been rooted so deep that even Mas — the female closest to his mother — wouldn’t let him make her a cup of tea. He ignored her, firmly placing two mugs from the cupboard to the right of the stove on the kitchen counter.

She watched him with wary eyes and when he looked at her pointedly, colour stained her cheeks. She nodded in thanks — the only acknowledgement she could muster — before she buried her hands beneath the bubbles and the clinking of dishes filled the room.

A comfortable silence fell between them as he filled the kettle and turned on the stove.

“Lady Nesta drank all of her chai and smoothie today,” Mas said after a while, just as Cassian poured hot water over some fresh mint leaves — Mas’s favourite.

His breath caught in his throat. “And the soup?”

“More than usual. A few bites of bread, too.”

Cassian swallowed and focussed on slowing the thump, thump, thump of his heart.

“That’s… good,” he said slowly.

“I’ve never seen such a sad Diyosa.” Mas said, shaking her head lamentably as she stacked the dishes on the wire drying rack. “You are doing a good thing, looking after her. She feels too much. It is her burden.”

A sad goddess. The name was surprisingly fitting, Cassian thought, even if he would sooner call Nesta sweetheart just to see her spit at him.

“You can sense her powers?” he asked curiously.

Mas shrugged. “I feel something rolling in the deep; something sinister… unchecked.”

Cassian knew what she meant. He still felt it sometimes when Nesta deigned to look at him. Behind her eyes when he riled her or in the defiant lift of her chin. A few times, he had felt her power from a distance, like on the battlefield at Hybern — a siren luring males out to sea. Dark and beautiful. Irresistible.

“She won’t even speak to me,” Cassian confessed.

Mas shrugged. “She is just coping in her own way. Let her come to you, sinta. She’s no longer shaking and sweating. The sheets were dry this morning when I came in. Did you hear her visit the bathroom in the night?”

A polite way to ask if he’d heard her retching up her guts.

“No,” he confessed.

In fact, it had been so eerily quiet that he had got out of bed to listen at her bedroom door for signs of life. He had waited until he had heard the rustle of the sheets and the clear thrum of her erratic heartbeat before padding back to his own room.

“I will take her some soup now.” Mas patted his arm. “She will be better, you’ll see.”

Cassian could only hope that Mas was right.

***

Cassian finally relented and visited the first of the camps further north. With nobody to winnow him back and forth, he had to rely solely on his wings. That meant conceding to an overnight trip, which unwittingly turned into an additional night due to high winds.

The situation was even worse at the tip of the Illyrian territory according to Azriel’s information, and Cassian was determined to find out whether his brother’s intelligence was correct.

The treatment of females at Craggs Peak camp had always been more barbaric than in Windhaven. Illyrian’s were raised with an unrivalled arrogance and their females were mistreated to a such a degree that Cassian would have usually called in Rhys. And he would have, if he hadn’t known that hauling in their High Lord to kick them down like puppies would only add fuel to the underground movement rather than deter it.

Instead, he watched. Cassian analysed every movement, every activity and every word of anybody he came across. He made a point of walking the camp morning and night; of  being present in the sparring rings to praise and discipline the males where necessary. Most importantly, he made sure to fight; to remind them of his power and that what he was capable of in battle still rang true. That even if he was a bastard, he was still the most powerful General in Illyrian history.

Yet despite his actions, something felt off. Out of the sparring ring, there were more sneering glances and looks out of the corners of the Illyrian’s eyes than usual, most upsettingly from the females. No girls turned up for training and for once Cassian didn’t challenge it, for fear of confirming their ill-informed suspicions that he believed all of his race to be expendable if he dragged any females unwillingly to the weapons rack.

He even made a point to turn down Lord Hamel’s offer to clear out one of the houses for him to sleep in. Instead, he pitched a tent on the outskirts of the camp — anything to stress that he wasn’t too good to sleep on the same hard ground as his soldiers.

Consequentially, he spent his nights clutching his favourite blade whilst he slept fitfully in his leathers and all seven of his siphons. At one point, he had woken with a start, the tang of unbridled fear overwhelming his entire senses, only to remember dreaming of the log fire back home in Windhaven, and the clang of the door as it was thrown shut.

By the time Cassian finally landed outside of the stone house in the early hours of the morning, his whole body was heavy. His wings had burned with such cold during the flight home he had used his power to shield his body and take the edge off — something he rarely ever allowed himself to do.

It was good practice to endure all weather conditions as a warrior, but even he had felt panic seize hold of him as the wind threw him back a few feet in a particularly sudden gust. Whilst it hadn't taken him long to set himself right, it had highlighted what he hadn’t wanted to admit — that even he was expendable to the elements. If he hadn’t been so keen to get back to Windhaven, he would have listened to his senses and stayed another night.

Despite the late hour, smoke rose from the bungalow’s chimney when he landed. An unknown burst of energy surged through his blood, pulling him towards the light that illuminated the house thanks to the slightly parted curtains in the living room.

He found Nesta curled up in the corner of the couch, a book open on her knees when he came through the door. Those steel-blue eyes of hers were already staring at him, slowly tracking his body from the feet up until they met his eyes, unflinching.

She was placed as far away from the log burner as possible, her body practically tucked into one of the right angle of the u-shaped couch. The fire glowed orange with the dregs of embers — as if Nesta had gotten distracted by her book and forgotten to replenish the wood. It would appear Nesta’s dislike of fires didn’t extend to the log burner. That, or she’d got so cold in his absence that she had given in and moved to the fire Mas kept going all day.

He tried not to flinch as she continued to stare, as if she were searching for something in his eyes; an answer to a question he didn’t understand.

Cassian wanted her to stop staring at the same time he hoped she’d never stop. Somehow, he made his body bend so he could make quick work of the laces on his boots. It gave him time to hide his surprise at finding her out of her room, showered and collected rather than coated in sweat and smelling like vomit.

He willed everything into making his voice conversational, as he asked, “Couldn’t sleep?

As soon as the boots were off of his feet he moved to the fire. Stretching his wings wide he groaned at the instant heat as it soaked into the membrane; the ice cold numbness dissipating into a tingling, delicious warmth.

Nesta’s gaze did not falter as she tracked his every movement. Her eyes swept over the apex of his wings — where the bones had been snapped and rendered useless — before moving back to his face.

“You’re late,” she said eventually.

Her voice was cracked and dry as paper from lack of use. Was this the first thing she’d said in days, Cassian wondered? He wouldn’t be surprised. Mas had never indicated that Nesta had spoken to her and she certainly hadn’t spoken to him. Even at the beginning of her withdrawal, when he had sat beside her bed and told her about his day — about the goings on in the camp in the hope that she had felt less alone — Nesta had never uttered a word.

Laying back on the couch, Cassian tried for a sly smile but it only came out as a grimace as his back barked in protest. Mother Above, he was getting old. He may be immortal, but his body had started to ache in ways it never had, especially since the war.

“You noticed my absence, how unusual,” he parried.

Swiping a hand over his tired face, Cassian quickly folded in a wing: in his fatigue, he had nearly knocked a mug clean off the coffee table. It clattered and rocked but thankfully remained upright — Cassian couldn’t think of anything worse than having to mop up tea and cracked earthenware when all he wanted to do was listen to the slow thump of his tired heart.

Exhaustion had caved in on him since he had landed and it made his blood sluggishly slow. When had he last slept for more than a couple of hours? Maybe Mor was right, he did need the sleep. But coming home to find Nesta up and awake was enough to know he’d made the right decision, even if the weather had left him battered and bruised.

Risking a sideways glance at Nesta, he eyed her too thin frame underneath the heaps of blankets. It was unusual that she had noticed him. In the week or so they had been living together, this was the first time he had seen her so alert. And the way she was staring at him with those shrewd eyes the colour of stormy skies; it made him wonder if she’d expected to find him in one piece… or for him to come back at all.

Did she expect everyone to leave her?

Chasing away the thought, he bared his teeth in a wide grin, even as his skin prickled from the scrutiny.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart? If I realised leaving would have made you look at me like that I would have disappeared long ago.”

Something shuttered behind her eyes then, like a bulb being turned off at the switched. He had pushed too far, too soon.

Fair enough.

Closing her book with a snap, Nesta said, “Mas didn’t come today.”

“It’s a Tuesday,” he explained. “It’s her day off.”

Even if it was only to go to her other job.

Nesta shook her head, her expression hardening. “Something felt wrong.”

Cassian sat up at that. He had always taken her previous premonitions seriously and no matter how much she rallied against him and drove him away, he knew that when she sensed something she had sensed something.

“Wrong how?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Nesta said testily, mistaking his clipped words for irritation. “It just didn’t feel right.”

“I’ll check on her first thing tomorrow morning,” he promised.

Standing up with a grunt, he paused as the room momentarily spun and his body swayed slightly on the spot.

Mother Above he needed to eat. He’d expelled a lot of energy during the flight home and he hadn’t consumed anything before he’d left — he’d been too anxious to come home and make sure she was ok. But the mere thought of getting up at dawn to oversee the girls training… he needed his bed more than he wanted dinner. Even the thought of reheating leftovers seemed too much.

So he said roughly — tiredly, “I need to go to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

And although Nesta didn’t bid him goodnight, he could have sworn her brow furrowed slightly as she watched him leave.

[thenafics]

Evil Author Day -- 2020

I saw this going around and I both wanted to feel included and have several WIPs that are probably not going to see the light of day for a long time. Most of these have titles already because I am incapable of writing a fic without having a title first~~~

1. Trouble in the Henhouse- AKA Red Hood joins the Suicide Squad

       Amanda Waller thinks she might have made a mistake with the newest member to her team. She’s let the fox into the hen house, except her hens are insane criminals and her fox is a bat who also happens to be an insane criminal. The metaphor starts to deteriorate quickly, but the point remains, this choice might have been the worst one she’s made in a good long while. He is an accident waiting to happen and one of the most deadly assets she has ever managed to get her hands on. He doesn’t kill for money, like Deadshot, or hunger, like Croc, or even some deranged showmanship, like Harley does or Joker’s Daughter did. He kills when he thinks it’s right, because he thinks the target deserves it and that is the most terrifying thing to find in a highly trained killer she’s putting onto a team with a lot of the same type of people he has a habit of offing. Whoops.

2. Ghosts of our Better Natures 

       Tim can tell the instant that Scarecrow’s formula really starts to kick in. He sees the way Jason’s body language shifts, his muscles pulling his limbs in tighter, in spite of the restraints holding him down. Judging from the smirk just visible on Scarecrow’s sack-cloth face, he notices too. “Is my new formula finally kicking in?” His high, grating voice overlays over the sounds of Jason’s harsh breathing. “Looks like the big, bad drug lord has a bit of a tolerance. I doubt I’ll even need to use half as much on your little friend over there.” Scarecrow gestures broadly at Tim where he’s tied up against the wall and then claps his hands with fake glee. “I know what we’ll do! We’ll use all of the extra I’m saving on him for you!”        Jason wrenches at his restraints, eyes wild behind his domino mask, but he remains uncharacteristically silent. He looks over at Tim and another wave of panic seems to crash over him. His struggles increase in strength to the point where Tim can hear the groaning of the rusty bolts holding Jason down.

3. Rafters for Roustabouts- JayRoy based on a piece of fanart I saw and can no longer find

       Roy remembers when Jason was just a skinny little twig of a thing trailing after  Nightwing with his spindly limbs and closed off smiles. The first time they’d met, Jason had looked up at him and blushed so hard that Roy was a little worried he might pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Jason was in the Tower pretty infrequently, but any time he was there, Roy could be sure to find him either abandoning Dick for Donna (who he had immediately latched onto, like a baby bird imprinting on what it thinks is its mother) or acting as Roy’s shadow. Roy could often tell when Jason was visiting well before Dick told him because of the glimpses of inky black hair he would catch out of the corner of his eye. Eventually Roy got tired of waiting for Jason to stop being so shy. “Hey, Jason, I know you’ve got that whole stealth thing going for you, but it’s much easier to make friends if you just talk to people.”        There was a muted thump and a little yelp as Jason fell down from the rafter he’d been perched on. Roy made his way over to him and crouched down to look more closely at Jason. The younger boy was blushing furiously and had his hands pressed firmly over his eyes, almost as if he thought if he couldn’t see Roy, Roy might not see him. Roy let out a little huff of laughter. “You’re just a little shy, aren’t you Jaybird?”        Jason just burrowed further into his hands and seemed ready to just wait until Roy left so that he could tend to his bruised pride and tailbone.

4.   Chapter 2 of Release of Liability- My very self indulgent Dresden Files fusion au that nobody asked for or wanted. *Knowledge of the Dresden Files universe up to like, book one/two is v. helpful*

Wayne manor is steeped in the type of magic that can make a place a living thing. This is the home of one of the most powerful wizards in America and has been the home of an incredibly powerful magical family for centuries. There’s history in these walls beyond what the outside world will ever know. All of the wall fixtures are old fashioned gas lamps retrofitted with lightbulbs. It’s a darker paint job and some cobwebs away from being the house from the Addam’s family.

Bruce Wayne himself leads me further into the house and to what I assume must be his office. An older man appears almost the exact moment we sit down and offers tea in a clipped British accent. He disappears as silently as he appeared and rematerializes just moments later carrying a tray laden with tea and those fancy little sandwiches they always show on the BBC. Wayne thanks him and dismisses him with a soft “Thank you,” before the man is gone again.

“So, Mr.Dresden, I hear you’re good at finding lost things.”

“I tend to be. Though I have to wonder what use a practitioner of your caliber could have for my services. With all of Gotham at your disposal.”

“The situation requires a somewhat delicate approach.” I can’t help but snort in response. Delicate and I go together like oil and water. I am not who anyone should call for delicate, subtle, or any synonyms of that ilk. Wayne gives a wry smile and little laugh of his own.

“I misspoke. Not delicate, detached. I am well known to Gotham. You are not. I’ve heard wildcard is somewhat your area of expertise.”

“I’m not going to take offense at that because it’s true. What’s missing?”

Bruce Wayne fixes me with a paralyzing gaze and speaks two words that let me know this is going to be one of those cases that sticks with me.

“My son.”

Bruce Wayne is famous for several things in the magical community. His childhood trauma of witnessing his parents’ murder would make a YA author weep and left him the sole heir to one of America’s most notable magical lineages. That alone made him a Name, capital letter intended, in the world of the mystical. He also worked hard to actually become one of the most influential wizards in America and run Gotham with an iron fist. The most notable thing about Bruce Wayne however, is not either of those. It is his incredible and almost suspicious number of extremely powerful adopted children. A disturbing number of which share his jet black hair and blue eyes. I hope it’s just a weird narcissistic rich person thing.

He is well known to be very protective of his bevy of apprentices. To the point where he’d actually knocked out another wizard with a vicious right hook for making an untoward comment about his eldest son. It was a glorious day and I am thankful to have been within enough distance of the scene to see it go down. I am also thankful to have been far enough away that his fury didn’t turn to me. If something has happened to one of his beloved children, I have no doubts that Mr. Wayne will do whatever is necessary to save them. After the death of his second apprentice he’d practically torn apart the world at its seams in his grief.

5.  Windows for Bricks-  

“I’m here to pick up Damian. I guess I’m one of his emergency contacts and the lady on the phone said to sign in here before I could take him home.” Jason says to the nurse by the front of the sterile smelling room.

“Oh, are you,” she looks down at her computer screen “Jason Head?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Jason shifts uncomfortably.

“And you are his … “

“Brother. Same mom.”

“I see. We get Damian in here a lot so I see the resemblance. You have the same eyes”

6. Dialogue Snippet- Dick and Steph on the topic of ass envy

“He’s just jealous of my ass.”

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?” Dick sounds affronted.

“Have you seen his ass?,” Steph gestures expansively in the shape of an ass. A woman at the next table over glares. “Jay has no reason to be jealous Dick.”

“What.”

“And those thighs… unf.” The lady the next table over glares harder at the noise Steph makes.

“Ohmygod,” Dick buries his head in his hands. “Please stop.”

“What? I'm just saying, he's got no reason to be jealous when the dude is bammin slammin bootylicious”

“I'm pretending I don't know you. Can Tim take you back already?”

“Fine. But take a peek next time you and your ass feel so high and mighty”

7. Innocence for Sinners- JayDick prawn. I wrote this at the request of a friend. Very much not what I usually write, kind of nervous about posting it

*warning for Mature rating*

When he thinks about it, of course it makes sense to Dick that Jason is a virgin. He died before he’d even turned eighteen and spent a few years after that being either brain dead or criminally insane. It was really only in the past three or so years that Jason could be counted among the semi-rational members of the population and he had been so busy during that time span that there was no earthly way he had done anything. Still, Dick couldn’t help but be a little surprised when Jason pushes away from their kiss, while Dick’s hand rubs gentle circles over his crotch, and gasps out “No one’s ever touched me like that before.” 

Dick pauses and pulls back fully, his weight between Jason’s spread legs still pinning the younger man to the bed.

“What do you mean Jason?,” he asks, seeking verbal confirmation for his suspicions. Jason blushes prettily and turns his head to one side, as if to escape the weight of Dick’s eyes. Dick reaches out and turns Jason’s face back towards him. His eyes trace the delicate flush that brings out the freckles across the bridge of Jason’s nose and blown out pupils in sea green eyes.

 “Jason, are you a virgin?Am I going to be your first?” Jason blushes even further at the questions and nods mutely. Dick feels a rush of possessiveness pass through him at the idea of brash, rebellious, Jason being his. It only makes sense, after all, Jason had spent years wearing Dick’s colors and a month or so trying on the Nightwing suit for size. Of course Jason should be his in some other way. Dick leans back forward and kisses up Jason’s neck, ending up right by his ear.

“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else, little wing.” Jason shudders and lets out a soft moan as Dick scrapes his teeth against his neck in punctuation.

 “Please,” Jason breathes out. Dick growls quietly and surges up to kiss Jason. He weaves his fingers through the curls of Jason’s hair and pulls slightly. Immediately, Jason gasps into Dick’s mouth and arches his back up off the bed. Dick chuckles and pulls harder. He is rewarded with a moan and a shudder from Jason.

“You like that Jaybird? When I pull your hair?” Dick laughs against Jason’s mouth when Jason nods with downcast eyes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

Dick leaves one hand in Jason’s hair and worms the other up under Jason’s shirt, brushing over the hard lines of muscle and scar tissue. He thumbs over one of Jason’s nipples gently and feels a slight shudder run through Jason’s body. Taking that as a positive sign, he rolls it between his index finger and thumb. Jason gasps and tosses his head back, breaking the kiss. 

“Dick,” he gasps out, “That feels so, ah, good.” Dick smirks and rolls the nipple again “Aaaaaaah.” Dick pulls his other hand from Jason’s hair and starts using it to push Jason’s shirt up while he brings his mouth down to Jason’s stomach, kissing over the places where his hands had traced over.

“Wait, Dick!,” Jason calls out, panting for breath. Dick looks up at Jason’s flushed face. “I… I have a lot of scars there. Some of them might not be ones that you want to see…” Jason trails off towards the end of his sentence and avoids eye contact with Dick until Dick uses his free hand to gently pull Jason to face him. Dick can see in this flustered and blushing Jason the same boy who had been so shyly admiring of him all those years ago. This shy virginal Jason is far more little red riding hood than the big bad wolf that the Red Hood pretends to be.

“I want all of you Jason. All of you.” Dick says softly. He gently pulls the shirt all the way off of Jason, manipulating the younger man’s arms so that he can remove it. Once the shirt is off, he kisses up Jason’s chest to the top of the Y-shaped scar that stretches from collarbone to collarbone and bisects his body from mid-chest to belly button. Dick mouths gently across the raised tissue and grinds his hips down against Jason’s. Jason can only gasp wordlessly in response as Dick uses his right hand to trace down and past the long tail of the scar to the top of Jason’s jeans. He pops the button and undoes the fly with one hand. When he starts to shimmy Jason’s jeans and boxers down, Jason lifts his hips and practically whines. Dick slides down Jason’s body and sits up in order to pull the pants off all the way before settling himself back between his legs. 

“Your thighs are gorgeous.” Dick doesn’t even try to hold back a moan at all the exposed skin before him, some spots criss-crossed with thin lines left from slashes and stab wounds or spotted with starbursts from gunshots. He takes a moment to appreciate the way Jason’s waist cuts in and then flares out to almost feminine hips and thick, muscular thighs. Dick slides his hands under the small of Jason’s back and inches them down to the top of Jason’s ass.

“Really? You like them?” Jason asks, blushing.

“Babe, I love them. It should be against the law for you to wear pants. It’s practically a crime to keep all this hidden under your jeans.” Dick kneads at the soft flesh of Jason’s ass.

“Says the one who’s all covered up,” Jason gasps out. There’s Dick’s Jason, blushing and innocent, but still talking back. 

“Let’s fix that then,” Dick chuckles and slowly removes his hands, giving one last squeeze on his way. Dick peels off his t-shirt, deliberately twisting his body and putting on a show for Jason who watches with rapt attention. Dick smiles softly at the awestruck look on Jason’s face before making quick work of the clasps on his pants and shimmying out of them completely. Dick bends down and starts to kiss up Jason’s left leg, starting at his calves and working up to his thighs. Once he gets to the sensitive skin on Jason’s inner thighs, he takes his time pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. Dick scrapes his teeth against the skin as he pulls away from a kiss about halfway up Jason’s thigh and feels the strong muscles underneath tremble. Smirking, he repeats the action and looks up to watch Jason. The younger vigilante is struggling to hold his composure, but Dick wants to watch him fall apart completely. So he lowers his mouth back down to Jason’s thighs and bites down. At that, Jason arches off the bed hard and lets out the loudest moan Dick has heard from him so far.

8. Runneth Over and all that Jazz- incomplete work for day 7 of Omega Jason Todd Week -Lactation kink au heavily inspired by  @whumpbby and @daemoninwhiteround2 and all their stuff. A little R rated

If it weren’t for his chest, Jason would be nearly impossible to recognise as an omega. He’s taller and more muscular than most omegas so with his deep voice, no one would ever guess. If it weren’t for his body’s absolute betrayal. Jason, like pretty much all adult omegas, produces milk. It’s meant to help reinforce pack bonds and keep pups adopted into a pack fed. That’s not the problem, that part of it is manageable with absorbent pads in shirts and semi-regular use of a breast pump. It sucks, but it’s not the problem. The problem is that Jason’s pack bonds are weak, so his body will let down and start producing milk on a hair trigger. He’s peak fertile age and tangentially part of a mostly alpha pack, but not bonded well enough to balance his hormones, so his body has decided to try and tempt his pack into bonds with milk.

It’s a nuisance. He hears Bruce’s voice on the radio and a little dribble of milk escapes. Dick and Tim get into an argument and he can feel his breasts swelling with more milk. Cass gets injured and he ends up having to sneak off to change his shirt when she cuddles up to him for comfort. He saw Damian cry once and that was enough to get him leaking like a fountain and avoiding the bats for a few days. He knows at least one of them can probably smell the milk on him, but they have the good graces not to mention it so long as he doesn’t. 

So Jason distances himself from the pack. He figures if he doesn’t see them, his body won’t decide to go into hormone overdrive. Except it just ends up compounding the problem. More time away from the pack means even weaker pack bonds, which ends up kicking his hormones into even higher gear than they would have been. Soon, Jason’s having to empty his milk every day, then twice a day, then eventually he has to break in the middle of patrol to empty his breasts so they aren’t incredibly sore as he’s flipping around rooftops. He switches from plain absorbent undershirts to nursing undershirts in all black so that if he leaks it won’t show. It’s gotten way out of hand but the only way to fix it is to either break his pack bonds entirely, which might make it worse, or go to the pack and suffer through some potentially very embarrassing bonding.

He shudders at the thought of his pack finally drinking from him. The vulnerability it would bring stirs up something like panic in his stomach mixed equally with want. Letting them know that he can be manipulated just because of a biological response would put him at a huge disadvantage. If they knew he could be made to let down and go into a pheromone drenched haze with some carefully chosen vocalizations they could use it to their advantage when Jason inevitably pisses one of them off. Still, something has to be done, his chest hurts so much that when he got hit there on patrol, he almost blacked out.

He decides to go to Tim first. The slightly younger man is the easiest for Jason to get along with, and despite his tendency for general sneakery, he has enough respect for what Jason does that he probably won’t use it against him too much. It’s a risk, but the potential for relief from the pain of his swollen nipples and frequent breast pump use are enough to take it. Tim is practical and doesn’t seem like the type to get physically aggressive. Even if he does, his small stature means that Jason should be able to escape. Hopefully he won’t be weird about it. Fingers crossed.

Jason knocks on the door of Tim’s apartment, about an hour before patrol typically starts. Tim answers the door looking sleep deprived as always with a mug of coffee in one hand. Jason gives him a sheepish smile and a half hearted wave, after which Tim gestures him into the apartment, one eyebrow raised in question. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Jason. It’s been awhile. What are you doing here?” Just the sound of Tim’s voice is making his chest swell a little.

“Can’t I just come visit?”

“Of course you can, you know I like your company. You just usually … don’t. So… ”

Tim pins Jason in place with his calculating stare as he waits for a response. The silence is incredibly awkward for Jason because every second that passes he can feel the slight swelling inch closer and closer to potential leakage. He finally breaks when he feels a small dribble of milk start to leak from one nipple.

“I need your help.”

“A case?”

“No… “ Jason trails off, still unsure.

“Are you okay Jason?” Tim sets his coffee down and sits next to Jason on the couch. Their arms brush and Jason fucking gushes. If Tim couldn’t smell the milk on him before, he sure as hell can now if the way he sniffs the air is any indication.

“What’s wrong Jay? Why are you, umm, … “

“Leaking?”

Tim nods, nostrils flaring as a blush steals across his face.

“I’m letting down at the drop of a hat right now. I’m overproducing so much that I have to stop in the middle of patrols to pump. It hurts real bad.” Jason couldn't stop the whine from leaking into his tone if he tried. Tim unconsciously responds with a swell of alpha scent. The pheromones set Jason off again and he gasps as he involuntarily lets even more milk escape.

“Jason,” Tim’s voice is practically a whisper. “How can I help?” Jason takes a moment to steady himself under the force of Tim’s gaze, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his reaction to the answer.

“ I need you to drink enough to solidify our pack bond.” 

Tim makes an interested little noise in the back of his throat and places one delicate hand over Jason’s on his lap. He gives a gentle squeeze

“Are you making enough to do it in one go?”

“Were you even paying attention? Yes. I’m producing enough for the whole pack.”

“Why me? If you go off pack hierarchy aren’t you supposed to go to Bruce? Even if you don’t trust Bruce, you could have gone to Dick or Barbara.”

“If you’re not willing, I won’t pressure you.” Jason’s voice is flat as he starts to stand, but he’s stopped by Tim’s suddenly much stronger grip pulling him back to the couch.

“I never said that. I just want to know why you chose me before I potentially upset pack structure.”

“ ‘M more comfortable,” Jason mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “Dick’s too clingy and Babs still thinks I’m crazy most of the time. You’re … nice to me. Helpful.”

“You’re nice to me too Jason. We take care of each other.”

An unfamiliar throaty purr starts up in the back of Jason’s throat as Tim gently presses his shoulders back into the couch. He pushes up Jason’s shirt, making sure to be extra careful right around the chest area. An accidental brush from the back of his hand as he pulls the shirt off causes a whimper to interrupt Jason’s purring. Tim shushes him gently as he sets the shirt to the side in a crumpled ball. Jason glares at him until Tim sighs and folds the shirt semi-neatly. He rearranges himself until he’s draped halfway over Jason’s lap, face centimeters from touching Jason’s chest. Tim stares unashamedly at the plump flesh where he can see the wetness where milk has already escaped.