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thegreathuxton · 11 months

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Came and Never Left

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem! Reader (No use of Y/N)

Inspired by "The Day That I Met You" by Matilda Mann.

Summary: "You're wasting your potential at Bunchurch, you know... Call me, and I will take care of you. I promise."

Warnings: I'VE READ THE BOOKS SO THERE MIGHT BE SPOILERS. Cannon-typical violence. Reader has parent issues (Father isn't in the picture, and mother just passed). Depictions of death/homicide. Slight mentions of the reader being bullied/put down by coworkers.

A/N: Maybe series incoming? Idk, we'll wait and see. BTW, don't worry about the little numbers. I like separating my work into sections, just in case you accidentally close out and lose your place. Just remember Chapter/Part Whatever, Section 69, or something like that.

(PART 2)

It was pouring outside and just minutes before curfew. You cast a nervous glance at the phone book, sitting on a table by the door. The yellow pages glared with agency ads, especially from Rotwell's and all of their new technology developments, such as iron tape and ghost alarms. The ghost alarm was bogus, you found. It was nothing but a rod, some spiderweb, and a bell attached to the end. It did ring, sure, but incredibly late. Your mother had bought it before she died. It rang an hour after her apparition attacked you in your living room, late one evening. And the iron tape was something you had bought on your own time. It now lined your bedroom walls.

The page the phone book was open to had another agency ad in particular that made you antsy. The silver and black stood out against the vomit-yellow color.

A. J. LOCKWOOD & COMPANY.

Beneath was a phone number, provided for leisure. They were small and they were cheap. And you knew no one from that company, which made you feel better.

There was a sudden knock on the door that broke your attention away from the book. You took a deep breath, fixed your wool cardigan so it covered you (you didn't think about the way this was a very grade-school English teacher moment), and unlocked the door. You expected a team to be at your front door, but no. Just one boy, about your age. Tall, strikingly handsome, and charming without having said a word. He was dressed in a fine-pressed suit, which was only kept dry by the stark black umbrella looming above his head.

"Good evening," he said. His voice emulated milk and honey. "My name is Anthony Lockwood, head of Lockwood & Co. I've been informed of your situation, and I'm here to help. May I come in?"

You brought him to the kitchen and put on the kettle. He sat down at the table and had a few biscuits that you politely offered to him before sitting down across from him, nervously twiddling your thumbs and trying to act natural. You didn't want to make yet another enemy from an agency other than the one you were currently employed at.

He ate while flipping through the week-old newspaper. Once he was done, he sat back and smiled at you. It was like the sun had just come blasting right through your window. You sat up straight, and he fixed his tie.

"So, you're an agent as well?" He asked you so bluntly, but his smile never faded.

"I am..." You murmured back, unable to meet his gaze now.

"I'm sorry to sound so rude. I just noticed the rapier and work belt hanging by the door when I first stepped inside. Which agency are you from? Rotwell? Fittes?"

"Bunchurch," you said. "My mother worked there when she was a kid, as a researcher, and she was one of their biggest donors and contributors into their own research of The Problem before she passed."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that. What talent do you possess?" He showed a brief amount of sympathy before moving on.

"I'm an all-rounder, as my supervisor likes to put it. I'm pretty mediocre at everything there is. I do some field work, but..." You trailed off. "They usually stick me on the research end of things."

Lockwood nodded, once again, sympathetic.

"Again, I'm sorry to hear that, but I must ask you something." He then leans forward. His hands come together, and he rests his forearms on the table. "Why did you call on us rather than Bunchurch?"

You stiffened at the question. He was forward and all business. You obliged him, not wanting to be a burden.

"They don't exactly treat me as well as some would want to think," you began, fingers now mindlessly picking at your mother's choice of tablecloth. You stuck your pinky finger through a small burn hole, left by one of her cigarettes. "And if I told them I couldn't deal with one measly ghost on my own, they'd probably laugh and put me out on the street..."

You look back up again, and Lockwood's eyes are glued to you. His eyes are such a pretty brown color. You look away again.

"What makes you say you can't deal with the ghost on your own?" Lockwood was very quiet when asking this.

"It's my mother," you said back, equally as quiet. You both sat in silence for quite some time. He took a patient breath.

"How did it happen?"

"Burgurlary gone wrong," you whispered, still picking at the cigarette burn. "I was out on a job. Mom had horrible hearing. She lost the ability to hear out of her right ear when she was fifteen. Some idiot on her team had horrible aim and hit her with a salt bomb. It went off when it hit her face. Robber came right in the dead of night, and she didn't hear him. She woke up and went downstairs just to get some water. Guy thought she had seen him, and just..." You made a gun with your hand and put it to your forehead. You slowly lowered your hand. "Neighbors called the cops. Cops called DEPRAC, and DEPRAC called me while I was on the job."

"And she attacked you?" He asked. You nodded.

"Three AM, just a few nights ago. I went downstairs to get a glass of water, just like she had, and there she was..." You sighed. "She could be rather cold, personality wise, but I never imagined her coming back as a cold maiden."

"Type two?"

You nodded once more, and Lockwood does as well. The kettle started to scream from the stove. You quickly stood up and tended to it.

"English breakfast or Earl Grey?" You asked.

"Earl Grey, please, with a dollop of honey, if you have it."

You helped him set up in the living room. It was the least you could do in exchange for his kindness and patience.

As you laid out a circle using the iron chains he had packed in his dufflebag, he examined the room, all the pictures that hung on the wall, and the traces death-glow left on the wooden floors. Your mother, unfortunately, had been shot on her favorite white carpet. DEPRAC had rolled it up and took it to the furnaces to be incinerated, along with a few other items that had been spattered with blood. Many other items were packed in cardboard boxes.

"Planning on moving, I assume?" He hummed.

"Just to the quarters within Bunchurch for the time being. I can't afford to keep up with rent on the house on my own," you explained and linked the chains perfectly together, just as you were trained to do. You then went to stand beside him as he admired a piece of artwork, just above the fireplace and resting on the mantle. Your mother would always stare at it when she was home. It was like a piece of resistance in her eyes.

When Lockwood tuned to face you, his scent, unburdened by the rain, washed over you. He smelled strongly of freshly clipped lavender and clean laundry. There was also a faint trace of burnt toast and magnesium. He smiled down at you.

"Do you have a safe place to go while I do my business here? Or would you feel better if you supervised?" He said, still smiling and making your heart beat a little faster.

"My room should be safe," you said to him. "As long as that iron tape from Rotwell's holds up."

He laughed at your answer. "One of my associates has a habit of buying that junk too. He rambles all the time about all of that Rotwell nonsense. Can you believe it?"

You smiled back up at him and blushed.

"You have to give them credit. A lot of the stuff they sell is junk, but it can be useful some of the time."

"Oh, spare me," he openly joked with you. "George will definitely get a laugh at that. He went on this huge rant just the other night about the stupid ghost detector stick he bought with his entire paycheck."

You continued with the small banter and kept him company until the old grandfather clock that sat in the corner struck twelve. Lockwood had been sharing jammy dodgers with you that he had tucked in his coat pocket, when the metallic twang rung and had the two of you in a spellbound trance.

Lockwood looked at the clock, checked his watch for the accuracy, and then unclipped the thermometer from his belt. The black box read 17.2 degrees Celsius. He let out a small laugh, chuffed with himself.

"I suppose you best be heading to your iron tape fortress rather quickly," he said while showing you the reading. "It was twenty-four degrees in here about 10 minutes ago."

With that, you both stood. He went to his iron circle and dug in his bag for a moment. When he stood back up, he turned to you.

"I'm sure you have a million and one of these stashed somewhere, but just in case you can't reach one of yours, take one of mine," he grinned and placed a salt bomb in your hands. "It'll give me some peace of mind when you go upstairs."

You smiled down at the thing in your clutches, then nodded, grinning just as big as he was.

"Don't let her bully you," you teased him, tucking the salt bomb in your pants pocket. "She was always kind of mean to strangers."

Lockwood shrugged and kept smiling. He waved you off and watched you disappear upstairs.

You couldn't sleep. You kept thinking about the boy downstairs, doing God knows what in your living room. He was probably sitting in his little protected circle and eating another biscuit. You smiled at the very prospect.

You sat in bed, one hand resting over the salt bomb still sitting snuggly in your pocket, while the other held open a book, but your eyes didn't bother reading anything. Your ears were too busy listening, which took up most of your brain power.

The grandfather clock would echo up the stairs and to your bedroom. One passed, then two, and before you knew it, it was two forty-five. Fifteen minutes before things began to happen.

Each night, at precisely three in the morning, a horrible scream would rock the house. You gave these details to the company working downstairs over the phone. You never dared to explore more, always too terrified of dying at the hands of your mother's spirit to try. Your thumb twitched over the salt bomb again.

You stared at the pages of your book until the clock struck three, and the seconds seemed to slow. Like clockwork, the scream came rippling through the house. It was louder this time. Loud enough, it made you cover your ears.

Five seconds after came the loud BOOM of a magnesium flare and then the CRACK of a salt bomb. Another terrible shriek tore the house asunder and had you putting your house shoes on. You glanced at the clock.

It read 3:06. Another bomb went off, and you heard furniture start to crash and rumble. You gripped the salt bomb in your pocket and then rushed to your closet. The thought that scared you more than facing your undead mother was the thought of another agent, dealing with a dangerous type two ghost and thinking they could do it alone.

You found your grade three rapier. It was shorter than the one you used now, but that one was downstairs by the door, and you couldn't possibly go for it now.

You threw a robe over yourself and threw open your door. The temperature change was horrendous. Your room was a comfortable and warm temperature, but as soon as you stepped beyond the door, you could see your breath perpetrating in the air. Thin layers of ice grew on the walls and cracked at the crumbling wallpaper. Another terrible shriek pierced the air, but it wasn't feminine. It was Lockwood.

You rushed down the stairs and turned to see the scene before you. The walls were burned from salt, magnesium, and ectoplasm. Lockwood had been knocked on his back, and his coat was steaming from the ectoplasm burns. The iron chain had been snapped in two. His rapier was far across the room, stuck in the wall like a decorative art piece. Above him was your mother. Her apparition was blue and terrifying. You could hardly look at her without wanting to turn away and sob. There was still a bullet hole in the center of her apparition's forehead. Tentacles of ectoplasm lashed out at Lockwood as he laid on the floor, and he was trying his best to dodge each one. He was out of flares and out of time.

That was, until you rushed to his aid.

You unclipped the salt bomb and threw it. It exploded and blinded both you and Lockwood. Your mother screeched and disappeared briefly, but she was quick to start reforming. You ran to Lockwood and helped him stand up by his shoulders. His eyes were wide and wild and he loomed at you with his mouth agape. You stared back, just breathing hard and speechless. Your heart was going a mile a minute. His eyes suddenly flicked away from you. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you to the side quickly. He slammed his back against the wall and kept you tight to his chest. You realized he had just pulled you out of the way from another lash from an ectoplasm tentacle.

"I thought you wanted to stay with your iron tape fortress!" He panted, smiling at you as he let you go.

"I couldn't let you deal with her alone," you said back, then turned to face the bigger problem in the room. Your mother had reformed herself, right in front of the chimney. She screamed again, and it rattled your brain inside your head. You screamed back and threw your rapier.

The point of the blade struck her blue chest. Her apparition disappeared as the blade went entirely through her and landed in her favorite painting on the mantle, like a dart in a board. You watched the blade shake and then still. Steam bellowed from it.

"The fireplace," Lockwood muttered and he came to stand beside you. "The source has got to be in the fireplace."

You nodded in agreement.

Lockwood approached his dufflebag quickly and retrieved a silver net. He pulled his rapier from the wall and looked to you.

"You go up there, and I'll watch for her. Okay?"

He gave the silver net to you. It wasn't an option anymore. You both cautiously approached the fireplace, and another screech rang from the house and shook the ice-chipped, ectoplasm stained walls.

"Not getting any younger here, Bunchurch," he said cooly, keeping his rapier steadily pointed while his eyes flickered all over the room, carefully watching.

You wasted no more time, climbing into the fireplace with no light. You relied on your hands, feeling the bricks and only finding thick grime and soot.

"Lockwood!" You called. "I'm not getting anything! I don't think it's here!"

"I think it is," Lockwood said, now sounding tense. "Because your mom's back, and if you thought getting a spanking with a wooden spoon was bad, you're definitely going to hate what she's about to do here in about ten seconds or so."

You searched all the more frantically, and you stretched up on your tippy-toes. Your fingers dived into a mesh of spiderwebs suddenly, and it took all of your willpower not to pull your hands away and wretch with disgust. You dug deeper, wincing as you heard the visitor scream again. Your hands then felt something wooden lodged between a couple of bricks. With no hesitation left, you grabbed it and yanked it down. You wrapped it in the silver net, and as soon as you did, all was silent. You could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner and Lockwood's loud panting.

You crawled out of the fireplace, and the first thing you saw was Lockwood's smiling face. He put both of his hands on your shoulders and beamed so brightly at you.

"Well done, Bunchurch!"

You began to beam, too.

He took the silver net from you and set it somewhere safe, where it wouldn't be disturbed.

"Did you see what it was?" He asked you and took a seat on the floor. The couches were still thawing from the bitter cold and the walls now dripped from melting ice.

"No," you sighed. "A box, I think."

He hummed. You sat on the floor with him, next to him. He produced a bar of chocolate from his now near-empty duffle bag. He split it with you, and you made a new kettle of tea in the kitchen, where you both soon moved to sit more comfortably.

"Hang on a second," he suddenly mumbled to you. "You've got soot all over your face. Let me get it for you."

He wet a napkin and then approached you. The smell of lavender was overwhelmed by the magnesium, but still there all the same. He wiped at your cheeks and forehead with the wet napkin and got as much grime as he could while the water in the kettle started to boil. He was so gentle with you, it made you blush profusely, and his eyes had a new gleam to them that you hadn't seen when he first stepped foot into your house.

"If you want," he spoke softly while using his other hand to tilt your chin up more, "I could stay with you until dawn and we can see what the source was in the morning, when it's safe."

You thought about it for quite some time, then shook your head.

"No... I don't think I really want to know what it is," you sighed and looked up at him. He had paused with dabbing the napkin and now just mindlessly rubbed your chin with his gentle thumb. "I've spent the past two weeks trying to heal after her death. I think seeing what it is will put me back quite a bit."

Lockwood stood there for some time, just gazing at you while you spoke. He dropped his hands and nodded, finally, after some time of thought.

"As you wish, Bunchurch. I'll take it to the furnaces first thing," he smiled at you, and you smiled back. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you placed your hand on top of his, in return. You saw the pink rise to his pale cheeks, and he gave you the faintest hint of a laugh. He stayed with you for some tea and a light, congratulatory breakfast. Not long after that, he was packing his things and getting ready to leave.

"You know," he spoke softly as you walked him to the door. "You saved my life tonight. You'd be surprised at how many people there are in this world who wouldn't do the same."

You smiled at him.

"From one agent to another," you said with sincere warmth in your tone. He smiled back at you.

Dawn was just beginning to peak in through the window above your front door. He turned to face you just as you reached for the handle.

He stuck his hand in his coat pocket and brought out a small business card. Scrawled on it was the same name and number you had gotten from the yellow pages.

"What is this?" You murmured, confused. It took you a moment to realize that the number on the card was different in the slightest of ways.

"It's my personal phone number. We have two phones. One for business and one for other things. Give us a ring sometime, using that number," he spoke and pointed to the card. "You're wasting your potential at Bunchurch, you know. The way you acted tonight more than proved you deserve to work on the field rather than some dusty library. Lockwood & Company will always have room for more people like you." He cupped your hand, the one holding the business card, and curled your fingers around it for you so you could hold on tight to it. His hands were warm and comforting around yours. His warm, brown eyes never left you. "Call me, and I will take care of you. I promise."

It seemed like only a few heartbeats before he was gone. You watched from one of your living room windows as he went to the corner of your road and hailed a cab. You sat and watched his cab drive away, still clutching the card, just knowing from the feeling you got, you'd be leaving your job at Bunchurch very soon.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #george karim #lucy carlyle #Anthony Lockwood and you #Anthony Lockwood/you #anthony lockwood/reader #35 portland row

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dr3amlab · 2 years

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3. wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 1721 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE —We all need a friend like Athena. Tell me what you think!

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

TAGLIST — @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @charlenasaxen @johnmurphys-sass @alittlebitofinsanitea couldn’t tag @louieblue2 and @born2222die

III. OBLIVIOUS IDIOT.

Dear Draco,

You shine so brightly, no wonder why you were named after a constellation. I don’t like to admit it but, sometimes, when I’m stargazing, I unconsciously find myself looking for your stars, and deep down, I think it’s just so I can see you for a little longer.

You’re the first person I think of when I wake up, and the last person that crosses my mind when I lay my head on my pillow. You tuck me in with reveries and dreams of you ever loving me back.

Draco, I think you’re my first love. My heart is all for you.

Yours truly,

Your secret admirer

Draco was laying on his bed while holding the letter carefully in his hands for he was scared to cause the slightest damage to the piece of parchment. He couldn’t help but to read the words over and over and over again in hopes to find even the smallest clue to finally put a face to this « secret admirer. » Alas, there was nothing to identify this person.

Malfoy felt hopeless for he couldn’t recognize the handwriting and never saw someone use the same stationary in Hogwarts. He’d hate to admit it, but since he started to receive the letters, he has been analyzing his surroundings more often: Draco would try to see if any of the pieces of paper were similar to the ones he received or even to see if he could match the handwriting.

Though, there was something that could help him identify his secret admirer: The scent. You see, every time he’d receive a letter from that Hufflepuff boy, a sweet scent coming from the pink envelope would make its way to Malfoy’s nose. However, the fragrance could only be smelt for a few seconds before completely disappearing. And so, It was a faint and an unreliable clue, but still, it was a clue and draco would take anything at this point.

« You’re still reading this Malfoy? » Blaise asked as he closed the door of their shared room, «yeah, I’m trying to figure out who they might be from, » draco said nonchalantly, « I can tell, » Blaise replied, « you’ve been receiving these letters for like I don’t know— two months? And since then, every time I come into the room you’re always reading them.» Zabini removed his jacket and threw it on his bed, and then sat on the latter while facing draco, « are you like in love or something? » Draco threw a pillow on Zabini, « ow! I’m just saying, » Blaise whined, « I’m certainly not in love with someone I don’t know Blaise.» Draco put the letter that was formerly in his hands on his bedside table, « I literally don’t care about those letters. »

« I, personally, in my opinion, » Blaise pointed to himself, «think you care about the letters, » he shrugged, « I also think you’re completely, utterly smitten with your secret admirer, » draco scoffed, « what makes you say that? The statement you’re making is clearly stupid. You’re not making any sense, » draco said, « I, personally, in my opinion, » draco repeated Blaise’s words, « think I’m just curious to know who’s writing these letters to me. That’s it. » Blaise looked at him closely and did not reply to his friend knowing damn well they’ll only end up fighting. The two boys fell into a comfortable silence, leaving each other to the company of their thoughts.

Draco lied, and he knew that his dearest friend caught on. He cared deeply about those letters; it felt nice to Malfoy to see how someone seemed to care deeply about him and perceived him in a a way that nobody ever did before. It felt funny to Draco : How could someone see beyond his cold and heartless persona and see him for more than he showcased himself as? He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he sure hoped to know it one day. Until then, Draco will keep that question close to his heart, to make sure he’ll remember to ask his secret admirer.

« I’m curious though, » Zabini spoke up making Draco’s train of thoughts stop to a halt, « Y/N. We haven’t heard of her for a while. Like, she didn’t prank you or anything for weeks, » Draco smiled remembering the last encounter he had with you, « Oh, come on! Y/N? I’m sure she gave up, she probably couldn’t find a better counterattack, » he smirked, « Stop being so cocky Draco, » Blaise smiled back at his friend, « I suggest you stay alarmed, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch, » he warned jokingly, « look at you being wise Zabini, » draco laughed.

« Oh come on, Y/N, » Athena huffed, «are you still writing those damn letters? I thought it was a one time thing and you’d be over it by now.» You stopped writing mid-sentence to look up at Athena, «You just don’t understand Athena, I have to. It’s vital for me to embarrass him, » you defended, « plus, as a Slytherin, I ought to be a determined person. »

« Yeah, right, » Athena started, « so it’s vital for you to write him little love letters every day just so you embarrass him? » Athena sat down next to you, «but, tell me truthfully, aren’t you embarrassed y/n? ‘Cause honestly I would be if I were you, » she scoffed, « wait, » you changed positions so you could face her better, « how is it embarrassing? »

« You’re an oblivious idiot aren’t you? » Athena put her hands on your shoulders and looked at you straight in the eyes, «you are writing to him little poems filled with love every day! That’s a thing lovers do for each other, » she said, «and those letters seem so genuine if you ask me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ever told me that you’re in love with Malfoy. » You slapped her hands off your shoulders, « Me, in love with Draco? As if! » you scoffed, « I’m only doing this so I can get back at him! I don’t care about him, at all, » you said defensively.

Athena broke into a fit of laughter and all you could do was to look at her with frowned eyebrows, « w-why are you laughing? » you stuttered, «I don’t recall saying anything funny! » Your cheeks turned red from frustration, what did you say that made Athena laugh like you said the funniest joke ever?

Your childhood friend wiped her tears, « Y/N, my love, » she started, « we both know that if you didn’t care about the dude, you wouldn’t be fueling whatever childish feud you both have, » Athena explained, « and you’d be ignoring his existence like you’ve been ignoring Cormac, » she added, « I think that you actually care about draco and you may even want to snog him, potentially.» You touched her forehead to check if she had high fever, because she was saying some absolute nonsense. « Are you high? Drunk? Sick? » You questioned Athena, « You’re saying some crazy stuff right now Athena. »

« Y/N, my sister in Salazar, we both know that I’m right, » she shrugged, « plus, I know you like the palm of my hand! I clearly am in the right position to confirm that you do in fact have feelings for Draco Malfoy, » she elaborated, «Again if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be doing all of this, » she pointed to the stationary laying on your desk, « you’re in love, babe. » Without adding anything else, Athena went to her side of the dorm room leaving you with your thoughts

You felt like Athena opened a pandora’s box inside of your mind for all you could think of was that you may actually bear feelings for Malfoy. Athena’s words kept repeating in your head over and over again, and you couldn’t deny that she may be onto something: Were you playing these wicked games along with draco just because you wanted to have some sort of connection with him?

If you thought deeply about it, playing those games with Malfoy may have been an excuse to have a constant presence in his life because deep down, you didn’t want to be forgotten by Draco: Going by your logic, If you pulled some stupid pranks on Draco that would mean that he would always notice you and therefore you’d always be on his mind.

Sure, those games the two of you were playing did start out from a part of rivalry. But if you were to be honest, you did find draco quite handsome and there would be no doubt in your heart that you would actually like him if he didn’t open his mouth to speak on the day you first met him.

You glanced again at the half written letter in front of you. You lifted it up, and started to read it.

Dear Draco,

I think of you daily. It’s true. I think of you when I see green apples, books or even when I smell an expensive cologne. You probably don’t have a clue why, and trust me, neither do I.

I want to know everything about—

You put the letter down and put your face in the palm of your hands. The words you’ve written on the piece of paper were probably the most genuine sentences you’ve put into together in a while : You actually do think of Draco when you smell an expansive cologne for he had the most intoxicating smell. And you’d always wonder what the blond boy is currently doing at the sight of green apples.

To anyone else, the words you’ve written may seem mundane and they probably do not hold anything special, but for you they did. You obviously weren’t Kafka or Shakespeare for the way you constructed your sentences to confess your feelings weren’t exceptional and were far from deserving a Nobel prize for literature. However, you realized that you did mean every word you wasted your ink for and that said a lot of things.

«Shit, she’s right, » you thought, « I think I like Malfoy. »

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #Draco Malfoy x you #draco x slytherin!reader #draco fanfiction #draco fic #draco imagine #draco fanfic #draco fluff #draco ff #draco malfoy ff #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy fluff

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ideasarestuckinmyhead · 16 days

Note

finn with someone who uses littlespace/acts more childish to cope whenever they are sad

Age regressing Sunflower.

I also did this for Alphonse, Seth, Charlie and Auron with a age regressor reader but as being general caregiver's for their reader. If anyone wants the other boys I haven't done it would be Faust, Lucien and Jack!

I can see Finn softly asking you if you need your coloring paper or even toys to calm yourself down.

If you want to be held Finn gently holds you as he rocks you as you sniff sadly. Whispering sweet things to you as he kisses your forehead.

After you calmed won he asks you what happened to make you force a regression so hard?

If it was just a bad day at work he helps you relax and tells you that person just needs to be talked to by your supervisor, To make sure this doesn't happen again.

But if your just upset about something but don't know what Finn tries to help you figure out why your upset. Being gentle as you try to find the words to explain.

However if you remembered a traumatic event that happened like it was the anniversary of it, Finn dies his best to distract you of what today is.

Finn began by getting you in your comfy baby clothes you like wearing when in your little head space.

Getting you your favorite stuffie and putting on any cartoons or movies that are your comfort ones.

He feels bad needed to leave for a few minutes to make you a sippy cup of your favorite drink so you can suck on it to calm down. Also because you cried your little heart out.

If you do use a pacifier he gets that as well clipping it onto your clothes so it doesn't get lost in your blankets.

Kissing your forehead again he goes to get you some snacks since he knows you might be hungry after that bad day.

Putting everything together he comes back to see you relaxing and smiling at him, sighing in relief Finn goes to sit next to you.

Smiling as you babble about the cartoon and how you love it. Finn loves how you can trust him in your most vulnerable head space. He does everything he can to make sure you feel better to be ready to go back into your adult mindset.

#age regressor reader #age regressor #red rants #yuurivoice #red answers #yuurivoice finn #red writes

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

Note

Not a prompt unless you want it to be, but you’re the only one who will appreciate -

George/Reader (or OC) where Reader is a Database Analyst for Fittes. Enemies to lovers.

Reader dedicates her life to making information more accessible/understandable/traceable and George can begrudgingly accept that. They make appointments with each other to argue over the merits of digitization, tagging systems, etc and if these arguments spill over into meal times, maybe they grab a bite and keep arguing, and oh no does everyone think we’re dating??

Anyways <3

a/n: RAHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!!! i know essentially nothing about technology though so i’ve probably butchered that part of this but i hope you enjoy!!! and thank you to @ikeasupremacy you really helped this go from a 2 page long flop that contained literally fuck all to a 5 page decent piece of work pahaha

warnings: mild language, mild angst words: 2.8K taglist: @neewtmas @locklylemybeloved @aayeroace @gotlostinfiction @waitingforthesunrise @mirrorballdickinson @mischiefmanaged71 @magicandmaybe @wellgoslowly @ettadear gn reader

Nice To Meet You - George Karim

“You know that, on the whole, this will make life way easier for you?”

“Since when do you want to make life easy for me?”

Taking an angry bite out of your sandwich, you say, “I’m not doing this specifically for you, twat. This is quite literally the purpose of my job, so it’s for everyone.”

George Karim sits back in his chair, glaring at you through the green reflections on his glasses. “And what exactly is the benefit of digitalising all of it?”

“Going over this again? Right, well, for one, there’s going to be new computers put into the Archives meaning more people can use them. Have I lost you yet? No? All right. For two, being able to search up what you want in a database is way easier than pacing for hours trying to find an old newspaper that someone might be using already. For three, multiple people can read the same file at the same time. You can’t do that with the musty old paper copies.”

There’s a moment of silence and an air of tension thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. The only sounds beyond George’s annoyed huffs of breath are the jingle of the café’s windchimes and chatter from other customers.

If you had your way, you wouldn’t even be sitting here discussing your plan of action with him, but your supervisor told you that you’d best talk about it to other agencies and their members to see what their thoughts are. Of course, the one time you head to Lockwood and Co. with the intention of speaking to them on purpose, hoping and praying you’d at least be speaking to Anthony Lockwood himself; you were sent off with his second and by far the most infuriating boy in all of London, George Karim. And, well, as you already know, he is a tough nut to crack.

“Why are you so stuck up on physical files, anyways?” you ask. “It’s not like we’re going to burn them on a pyre and force you to use a website. They’ll still be there. It just seems much more convenient to click a few buttons and have what you need.”

“They hold a particularly warm place in my heart,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. “But, fine, okay, life will be made easier for everybody with this new system. So why is it only being implemented now? Smaller agencies could’ve done with this years ago while Fittes and Rotwell and all the big companies have had it this whole time.”

Though you hate it, you can only shrug. “The big companies don’t want to have to compete with the smaller ones.”

“You’re saying this, but you’re working for Fittes, the biggest of the big companies.”

You grip your sandwich harder, pretending it’s George’s throat. “Yes, well, better pay than a smaller company. Some of us don’t get offered a bedroom when being accepted into a job. Besides, as much as I don’t like the big companies making a huge profit off of the Problem, I don’t have a choice. They’re the only ones with the resources I need. And, don’t forget, that’s where you used to work, too.”

Surprisingly, George doesn’t have a quip for that. He takes a thoughtful sip of his tea, glancing out of the café window and onto the busy street just beyond. The sunlight hits the lenses of his glasses in such a way that they shine a reflection down onto the table in front of you.

“So, this would be accessible for everyone?” he asks. “Not just the big agencies and their lackeys.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this to make you believe it, but yes. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

Quite frankly, you’re not surprised about having to repeat things over and over. Every single conversation you’ve ever had with George, no matter how fleeting or filled with irritation, has seemed like he had the personal mission of finding flaws in everything you do. Holding your rapier wrong – you absolutely did not, if anything, he was holding his wrong. Pronouncing a word wrong once. Taking a moment longer than him to spell a ridiculously long word on a report.

Now is no different. It’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his mind, working overtime trying to find an issue with this plan. But there’s nothing, that much you know from you and your team’s extensive planning and the look of mild horror on his face.

You can’t help the proud smile that parts your lips. “Go on, then, Georgie. Thoughts?”

He gives you a scathing look that only fuels the pride burning in your chest. “I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think that…”

“Carry on. I need to hear you say it.”

“Oh, shut up. I think that it’s a good idea.”

“Hmm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You’ve never seen such anger in a person’s eyes. “I think that it’s a good idea. Happy?”

“Very. That’s all I needed to hear.”

George opens his mouth to say something, probably something insulting, but a waitress breezes over. She’s a sweet middle-aged lady with a contagious smile that even has him easing up a bit.

With a twinkle in her warm eyes, she asks, “Is there anything else I can get the lovely couple?”

And that does it. If you weren’t so shocked yourself, the horrified expression on George’s face would’ve cracked you up. It looks as if someone stepped on his puppy and then tried to feed it to him. Then, amongst your own disgust, you realise that the expression is at the thought of dating you, and no matter the animosity the two of you share, you can’t help but be a little offended.

“Oh, uh, we’re not –“ You purse your lips. “Nothing else, thanks.”

She leaves momentarily, and your table lapses into an entirely uncomfortable silence. You can’t look at George. He can’t look at you. There’s a weird pit in your stomach. Nausea. Right? Because… Ew.

“I told you we shouldn’t have continued this conversation during my lunch break,” you grumble.

He hums in agreement, finding particular interest in his swirling tea. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, we’ve covered all bases. Of the plan, I mean. Not anything else. The plan. My job.”

But, even still, you’re both sitting. You’re not moving. Why? Maybe you’re paralysed with disgust. Maybe the mere thought of people thinking that the two of you are dating is debilitating. Maybe, maybe, maybe… You’re considering it?

God, no. That’s horrid to even think about.

“I, um, are you heading back to the Archives, too?” you ask.

George takes a moment to respond, as if lost in a daze. “Oh. Yeah – Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

As soon as you stand, George is on his feet, enough money slapped on the table for the two of you, and heading over to the exit. And, well, as much as you want to let him head off on his own, here comes that realisation that it’s a little insulting that he is the one trying to escape so quickly.

What a little prick.

You’re out of the door almost as soon as he is, insistent that you will be the one ahead. Yeah, sure, you’re heading to the same place and could try to be amenable, but will you? God, no. You want him to know that you can leave just as easily and are just as horrified by this prospect of a relationship as he is.

Why wouldn’t he want to date you? Beyond the constant arguments you have, you’ve always figured you’re a pretty decent person. Smart, but not arrogantly so. Friendly. Funny. Good company. Caring. What’s not to like? How dare he be disgusted!

But he seems just as determined to reach the Archives first. It’s only a few corners away, but it feels like a miles-long race between the two of you. But if the prize is your dignity, then to hell with the distance – you’d go actual miles to preserve that, especially against George.

It comes to a halt when you’re forced to wait at traffic lights, unable to even slip across the street before they change from red to green merely because of the amount of coincidentally flooding traffic.

For what feels like hours, you have to stand beside him, listening to him breathe and mutter and tut as if this is the biggest inconvenience in the world. Hey, if he didn’t think a relationship with you was such a horrible idea then this wouldn’t be taking place!

No matter that you think the exact same. You’re allowed to feel like that.

Do you feel like that?

The beeping of the pedestrian crossing jerks you from your thoughts, and you’re rushing across the street before you know it. And, oh, curse his long legs! He’s getting ahead of you.

There’s an anger building up in your chest now, one that probably isn’t fully justified. Perhaps it stems from deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy you’ve not had the mind to think about for a little while now. Or even just out of pure spite of George Karim that has been pulsing through your veins for years now. Why has it been there? Because of him. Because of his incessant need to find flaws in your work and you, and his need to huff at anything you say or do. Like your existence is a bother.

Either way, the anger forms words before you can think to dismantle them. “What’s your issue with me?”

George pauses, near the side of the pavement, with the Archives in clear view behind him. He’s frowning over back you, dark eyes narrowed and bouncing with golden sunlight. Why should someone that hates you so be complimented by the sun? It’s entirely unfair, especially when it’s only blinding you.

“What?”

You stop a foot or two in front of him, panting a little from walking so fast. “What exactly is your problem with me? What did I do to you? Because, far as I know, you’ve hated me ever since we first met.”

The words take a minute to process, and it looks as though he’s trying to figure out some hidden meaning behind them. There’s nothing hard about what you’ve asked. Nothing harder than admit you feel ashamed to have even asked it.

“I don’t –“ George’s frown only deepens, taking complete notice of the frustration on your face.

“Forget I asked,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. Stupid question anyways.”

But, when you start to walk away, a hand on your wrist stops you, pulling you back slightly. When you look back, George is there, hand wrapped around your arm and staring at it as if it isn’t his own skin on yours. You expect him to pull away, disgusted at the thought of touching you, but his grip only softens slightly.

“I don’t hate you,” he says.

Scoffing, you say, “Yeah, right, and I’m Penelope Fittes. Let go of me.”

And, to his merit, he does. But your feet aren’t cooperating. They won’t move. Why, why, why won’t they move?

“I’ve never hated you,” he murmurs. His gaze is fixed on yours, something you’ve always noticed he’s steered clear of doing, and you feel frozen under it. “Intimidated, yeah.”

“Intimidated?” You roll your eyes. “George, come on. I was trying to be serious, but you’re just making a joke of it.”

The look in his eyes at that moment is a mix of desperation and exasperation. “I am being serious. Do you know how hard it is to be regarded as the smartest person someone’s met, to rely on the intelligence as your only form of worth to people, and then find someone smarter than you?”

Words try to form in your throat, only to crumble like chalk beneath too-strong fingers.

“And I’m sorry it’s made me lash out at you,” he continues. “I know it’s a horrible thing to do, but it’s like my mouth doesn’t want to cooperate with my brain. Truly, I regret how I’ve treated you. You’ve never deserved it.”

Your throat feels thick, and it’s hard to swallow. “Georgie, don’t lie.”

There’s a flicker of a smile on his lips then. “You know I like it when you call me that?”

“You told me you hated it when I call you Georgie,” you say, but it feels like your voice is dwindling.

“I told you that so you’d call me it more,” he admits. “(name), I really, truly have never hated you. And, again, I am so sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I admire your intelligence and your insistence of sticking up for yourself. I just wish I had started things differently between us.”

The anger is back, burning a hole in your chest. “You’ve had years to tell me this. Why? Why didn’t you?”

He’s breathing rather heavily. “I was scared. I was trying to figure things out – my feelings, your feelings. But, more than anything, I couldn’t bring myself to change from the person you’d begun to see, because what if you hated the real me more than this one you know so well?” Now, his eyes tear away from yours as he stares up at the sky, looking for guidance from some divine being. “Even when you insulted me, I enjoyed it because it was from you. How lucky was I to even be able to speak to you, never mind hear you come up with all these unique names? There are millions of people who have never heard you speak, who have never had the pleasure of speaking to you or will never have it again, and I didn’t even want to chance becoming one of them.”

With that, the flames roaring inside your chest are extinguished. Instead, now, there’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling in your stomach that inches its way up your body and into your mouth, holding your tongue and stopping your ability to speak.

Despite all the quips, the need to find faults in what you do, he has never meant it. How horrible does that make you, saying all of these things to him because that was how you genuinely felt?

Do they count, seeing as they were formed on the basis of a personality that doesn’t truly exist?

Your fingers hurt from tearing at the skin around your nails. “You really think I’m so bad that I wouldn’t like the real you? Georgie, there is no way I wouldn’t have preferred it.”

He laughs at that, and the sound only bolsters this strange feeling in your stomach. Not quite butterflies, but almost. More melancholic. Could you have had the opportunity to hear that laugh for years now? To cherish it the way a person does a memory? The way an artist does a creation?

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am,” he says, and you swear he inches slightly closer. “About the way I acted. The fact it’s taken me this long to admit this to you. All of it. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

And you don’t. Not really. Not when it’s left a hollow feeling in your chest, left by the realisation that everything you said was unfounded and cruel and based on a person you had no true conception of. Not when this is how it has been for years between you both. Weeks, you could understand. But years?

There’s a part of you, though, that could potentially forgive him, given the chance. George may be quick to criticise or provide information for something, but he has always kept his emotions at arm’s length, that much even you know. So, for him to come and outright tell you all of this takes insane courage.

Even still, you can’t fully comprehend it all.

“Well,” you say, “you paid for my lunch. So that’s a start.”

He smiles then. A flash of white teeth and an insurgence of unfamiliar fondness in your heart.

“We could restart,” he suggests, pushing his glasses up his nose just so.

Despite the hollowness, you nod and manage a small smile. “I’d like that.”

Not even a second later, his hand is hovering in the air just between you both. “George Karim. Nice to meet you.”

It shouldn’t make your smile grow, it really shouldn’t, but it does.

“(name) (last name),” you say, clutching his hand in yours. “Nice to meet you, too.”

And, somehow, that smile of his, one you’re sure you’ll grow more accustomed to, adds a small piece of filling to the hole in your chest.

#george karim x reader #george karim fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #george karim #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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hugmekenobi · 1 year

Text

S2: The Bad Batch (12)

Chapter Twelve: The Outpost

Gif by @dreamswithghosts

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: Crosshair's mission for the Empire finalises what he'd feared would happen to him. Meanwhile, you and the Batch take on a tame job yet you find yourself filled with anticipatory dread but you have no sense of why.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, Lieutenant Nolan, character death, my interpretation of Crosshair's thought process, Force-related anxiety, descriptions of exhaustion, poor attempt at kidnapping, light injury descriptions, reader isn't quite on top of things, briefest instances of innuendo (it's tiny and you might not even notice it but including just in case), me making up some of Hunter's past, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.9K

Author's notes: Told you I hadn't forgotten about Crosshair lol, the poor boy goes through it. Also added my own thing to go with it and thank you to @fuckoffthanos and @arctrooper69 for helping me out with deciding how this should go! Also, @arctrooper69, loved your idea and had to incorporate it somehow but just the way other things panned out, it's a bit on the tamer side but thank you again! Hope you everyone enjoys!

He waited by the shuttle and watched. He watched the group of newly redundant clones walk past. It was the same spiel from the Imperial officer every time- “The Empire thanks you for your years of service and wishes you well on your retirement.” Like that would really make a difference.

“CT-9904?”

Yes, that was who he was to them now. Just a designation, but at least he still had a purpose here, not like the countless others he’d seen be forced out. He turned to face the lieutenant who addressed him.

“You’re out of uniform.”

Right, yes. Can’t be seen to look too different. He put his helmet on and awaited his instructions.

“I’m Lieutenant Nolan, your commanding officer for this mission. We’re heading to the Imperial Depot on Barton-4. High-value cargo stored there has been targeted by local insurgents. We’re to secure it until it’s transferred at week’s end.” Nolan paused as he heard the faint voices of the clones already in the shuttle. He let out an irritated sigh. “Fantastic. More clones.”

“Problem, sir?”

“Yes. I don’t like used equipment.” He boarded the shuttle. “Let’s go.”

Right. ‘Used equipment.’ He couldn’t afford to give that more thought. There was a mission to complete. He grabbed his sniper rifle and stepped onto the ship.

Barton-4 was an ice planet. And a hostile one at that. The cold wind howled and worked its way through to his armour and seeped into his bones, and the gusts of snow made it hard to see ahead. It was understandable how things had been going so wrong. Getting caught off guard by native insurgents in a place like this would mean the squadron here would have no chance of defending themselves successfully.

The group made their way into the main cargo haul and Nolan addressed the droids moving the shipments. “Where is your supervisor?”

“You must be our reinforcements.”

They all turned in the direction of the voice who emerged from behind one of the containers.

“We expected you 36 rotations ago. Did you get lost?” The clone asked coolly.

“We work on the Empire’s schedule, trooper, not yours.” Nolan replied.

“It’s Commander, Lieutenant.”

“Well, Commander, your orders were to guard and protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded.” He followed the clone round the corner. “Where are the rest of your men?”

“Dead.” He replied bluntly before he introduced the clones cowering round a heat lamp. “Hexx, Veetch, and I, we’re all that’s left.”

Their names. He was using their names. Not designations.

“Your failings will be dealt with later.” Nolan scolded. “For now, I am in charge here until the cargo is transported.”

“I feel safer already.” The commander drawled.

“Look here, clone, you speak to me with respect.” Nolan snapped.

“In my experience, respect is something to be earned.”

The Lieutenant sneered. “Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, were you let the majority of your squad get killed.”

The commander didn’t rise to it. “Tell me, Lieutenant, how many missions have you commanded?”

Meanwhile, he watched the interaction between these two men with hidden interest. He liked that this clone wasn’t backing down so easily.

“That’s what I thought.” The commander said as his question was greeted by silence. He addressed his group behind him. “Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” As soon as they all left, he focused his attention on the soldier in black armour that had followed the lieutenant in. “You, uh, know the lieutenant well?”

“For about two hours.” He responded.

The commander scoffed. “Two hours too long, I bet.”

He hummed in agreement and was both surprised and grateful to see his fellow clone bring over the heat lamp.

“So, what’d you do to get stuck with this mission?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” He said distantly.

The commander’s laugh turned into a sigh. “The name’s Mayday.” He looked at the clone expectantly.

He debated for a moment. It had been so long since anyone had wanted to know his name and cared enough to ask about it. “Crosshair.” It almost sounded foreign; it had been a long time since he’d had a reason to use it.

“Welcome to The Outpost.” Mayday with faux celebration. He grabbed his helmet and blaster. “I’ll give you the lay of the land.”

Nothing was out of the ordinary, the ship flew peacefully through hyperspace, with you all deciding that you were going to heed Cid’s instructions- after all she had said you shouldn’t return if you didn’t scavenge anything from the crash site so you were doing as you were told and the added benefit of not being in her employment worked things out quite nicely.

So, why as you sat on the edge of your bunk, was it that with nothing being out of the norm, you had a deep sense of dread lingering in your heart? This was the worst it had been; you had sensed it creeping in the days since the failed mission from Cid and your sleep had been very limited but you had put the cause down as being the mission and assumed it would go away. It hadn’t. And last night had been the worst. It overwhelmed you and had prevented you from sleeping entirely and the exhaustion you were feeling wasn’t helping matters. A light tapping on your leg forced you out of your head.

You glanced down to see Hunter kneeling in front of you, hand on your knee. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“What’s going on?”

“Didn’t sleep well.” You said briskly, not wanting to create a fuss.

“Something on your mind?” Hunter asked kindly. He could tell you were putting a brave face on but even that couldn’t hide the dark shadows under your eyes and the way you could barely keep your head up.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to bother him with something you couldn’t even put a cause or label on. “Is something happening?” You jutted your head in the direction of the cockpit where the others were gathered.

Hunter let your deflection pass for now. He knew you well enough to know that he couldn’t push you to talk. You would come to him when you needed it.

“Phee got in touch. She’s got a mission for us, but she needs us to get some credits from a contact first.”

“And the catch?” You asked, stifling a yawn.

“Her contact seems to have five possible addresses to keep people guessing his location.”

You nodded slowly. “Honestly was expecting worse.”

Hunter gave you a small smile. “I’d figure I’d keep Omega with me and the rest of you split to check out each of the other addresses?”

“Sounds good, Seargeant.” You said as you stood up to go to the refresher. You splashed some water on your face, and you caught a glimpse of your reflection. You did look pretty rough. Your eyes were puffy and dark circles graced the skin underneath them. Maybe a distraction from this feeling would be a good idea. There wasn’t much you could do about the tiredness expect for push through but even doing a small job might help with forgetting for a little bit.

Not only had it sounded like Mayday and his team had been hung out to dry with degraded equipment and poor support all the while protecting cargo the Empire hadn’t deemed necessary to inform them of what exactly it was, but it also hadn’t taken long for the first attack on the depot to occur since he and the rest of them had arrived.

The raiders had made it in and out fast and had caused the deaths of the rest of Mayday’s team and had stolen more cargo. The only saving grace had been that Crosshair had been able to hit one of them as they retreated, and the blood trail led to a system of ice tunnels that had allowed them to slip through undetected for months.

Upon Nolan’s request, he and Mayday had gone in search of the crates, and they started with the ice tunnel.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Hunter asked you gently as the others stepped off the ship.

You knew he was coming from a good place, but your sleep-deprived state took it as more of an insult. “Yes.” You said tetchily.

Hunter raised his hands in appeasement. “I’m just checking in.”

You exhaled wearily and ran a hand across your face. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s probably best to just leave me be for the moment.” You lifted your hood and mask up.

Hunter debated pushing the matter further, but he decided to wait until this task was over. “Okay.” He put his helmet on and let you leave the ship first.

It turned out that Wrecker had the current address and after he confirmed everything went smoothly, Hunter had said you were all to head back to the ship. You cut down an alley way that was a shortcut but also a means to avoid a public scene since you’d been followed once you’d rounded the corner from one of the contact’s alternative residences. “Please, I’m in no mood to do this today.” You said tiredly as the figure dashed in front of you, halting you in your tracks. You stared the Weequay. “What do you want?”

“How’d you know about the money? I’ve been watching that house, and I heard your comm. Where’d you find him?”

“I don’t have it.” You ignored the crux of his question.

“No, but someone you know does. And you’re going to help us get it.”

You really couldn’t be bothered with a simple kidnapping. If you were going to be threatened today, you’d rather it be a bit more interesting than this. “You know you’re not actually going to get anywhere with that plan, right?”

The Weequay simply sniggered and drew a blaster.

You sighed heavily and reached for your holster. Your entire body was slow. You’d never felt so sluggish.

And that was probably why you didn’t pick up on the ‘us’ or register the person that came from behind and smacked the butt of their blaster across the back of your head.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Wrecker said cheerily as he stepped on board and put the case down. He took his helmet off.

Hunter glanced past him. “(Y/N)’s not with you?”

Wrecker shook his head. “Was she supposed to be?”

“She’s not come back yet, and we haven’t heard from her.” Omega informed him, her own troubled face matching Hunter’s.

Hunter reached for his comm and tried for you, but he got no reply. “She wouldn’t go radio silent without being told to.”

“You guys aren’t in a fight, are you?” Wrecker asked.

Hunter shot his brother an irritated look. “No. And even if we were, she knows better than to ignore any of us if we’re checking in.”

“(Y/N), come in.” Omega tried but again was met with no response.

Both Wrecker and Tech also attempted to get in touch with you, but nothing came through.

Hunter started pacing. You wouldn’t ignore all of them. You just wouldn’t, no matter what was happening. The panic was starting to set in now. It was something he rarely did and when he did do it, he didn’t like it, but now he was thinking he should’ve pulled his rank with you and at least made you stay on the ship. He’d known you were in not shape to go out there, even if it was a simple mission, whatever you were going through and the exhaustion you were experiencing would have an effect on anyone.

“Hunter, it’s her.” Tech called over from the cockpit as the ship’s main communication control lit up. Only it wasn’t your voice that came through.

“If you want to see her again, meet us with that lovely case of credits you picked up in 30 minutes.”

“How do we know she’s with you?” Hunter asked, doing his best to keep his voice level.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Her top has half a white skull on it.”

Dammit. Hunter paid no attention to the looks the others gave him. He needed to know more. He needed to know if you were okay. “I want to hear her. For all I know, you just saw her and that was the first thing you noticed.”

The voice chuckled unkindly. “She’s currently… unavailable for speaking. If you want that to be a more permanent state, then by all means, don’t do as we say. But, if you want her back, you better be here.”

“If you’ve hurt her-”

“It’s 20 minutes now. By all means, keep talking and pissing me off if you want her to suffer but I’d suggest you start walking.”

“Wait, but where are-” Omega started to say but the transmission cut out. “How are we supposed to find her?” She addressed the others.

“They used her own comm. I can trace it easily enough.” Tech said calmly as he got to work.

“The rest of us will go over her steps.” Hunter directed before he led the way off the ship.

If it wasn’t for the throbbing radiating throughout your skull, you might’ve been grateful for being knocked out. It was the closest thing you’d had to a rest. But the resulting headache and embarrassment at being so easily caught took precedence over any relief at being able to not think about what signals the Force was trying to send you. Now that you were awake, the feeling was back.

“Ah good, you’re up.”

You ignored the voice and took in your surroundings instead. The room was dark, the only light came from the faint glow of a lantern, and you were sitting with your back to a damp wall. Your hands were tied loosely in front of you with a piece of frayed rope. It was the worst attempt at kidnapping you’d ever experienced.

“Don’t worry. We’ve been in touch with your friends. Once we have the money, we’ll let you go.”

Your eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and it was then that you saw the two Weequay men standing by the doorway. You snorted. “Yeah, I’m not all that worried.”

“Oh yeah?” The one that had originally cornered you in the alley said.

“You two really don’t do this a lot, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” The one you didn’t recognise asked.

“Kidnapping people. You two are clearly new to the game.”

“Meaning what?” The first Weequay asked suspiciously.

You released an aggravated huff. You were too tired to do this, but it was your way out of here. “Meaning if you were regulars at this, you wouldn’t have used my comm to send your demands to my team- I’m assuming that’s what you did, right?” Their anxious glance to one another gave you your answer. You continued, “Ideally, you also would tie my hands behind my back, or, at the very least, you would double check the strength of the knot.”

“Check it.” The one you had seen first ordered his companion.

Perfect. As he kneeled down in front of you, you punched him on the underside of his jaw, and he crumbled to the floor. Acting quickly, you broke your hands out of their restraints, and you fired a stun blast from his blaster to the second one, who had been too taken aback by your actions to get his blaster out in time.

You grabbed your stuff and headed for the door, but it was then you heard the faint sound of someone grunting. You were still pretty out of it so as you moved to dodge the blade, your reaction wasn’t quite fast enough. You inhaled sharply as the knife sliced the part of your forearm that wasn’t protected by your armour. It wasn’t much more than a graze, but you could feel blood slowly secreting from the wound and it stung like hell. You whipped around and fired a stun bolt to the half-collapsed figure, and he fell unconscious.

You opened the door to be greeted by three familiar faces. “Oh. Hey, what brings you all here?”

“We were coming to rescue you.” Omega said as she peered around you to see the two knocked out Weequays.

“I appreciate it, kid. I’ll save you something to do next time.” You dug deep for the smile that graced your face as you touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming after me, guys.” You said to the group.

“Did they hurt you?” Hunter asked urgently as he scanned your body for any obvious injures.

You shook your head. “Nothing major. It was my fault anyway. I completely switched off.”

“Yeah, what even happened?” Wrecker asked you.

“Don’t really wanna relive the humiliation at the moment, Wrecker.” You took a breath. “We good to go?” You asked Hunter who nodded and the four of you walked back to the Marauder.

“Tech, would you mind bringing the medkit down here?” You asked as you boarded the ship and sat down on your bunk. “Also, thanks for helping find me.”

“No thanks are necessary. Although, it was a relatively simple mission; I do not understand how this incident occurred in the first place or how you managed to injure yourself.” Tech said frankly as he pulled the medkit down and started to make his way over to you.

He was right but you were embarrassed enough to be so caught off guard like you were and you didn’t need more reminders. “Tech, what about my general demeanour right now makes you think I’m unaware of that fact?” You said through gritted teeth as you tossed your vambrace with a little too much zest judging by the way it smacked off the wall by your bed. You were doing your best to keep it together. You were determined to not let your mood affect the relationships around you.

“I only meant-”

“Tech.” Hunter warned him off calmly as he took to medpack from him. “Just get the ship in the air, okay?”

“Very well.” Tech said with a nod before he turned back for the cockpit.

Omega and Wrecker followed him.

“Do you want-” Hunter started to offer.

“I can do it myself, it’s a really small cut.” You said touchily as you held your hand out for the case.

Hunter didn’t fight you on it and he was prepared to give you space, so he handed it to you. “I’ll be in the cockpit with the others if you need me.” He risked a step forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You did feel instantly more tranquil after he did that. “I’m sorry.” You uttered quietly as he stepped away.

Hunter tenderly rubbed a thumb across your cheekbone. “Get some rest.”

Crosshair and Mayday rounded the corner of the tunnel, and the blood trail came to an end. Both their lights found the dead body of the raider hunkered against the wall.

“He didn’t get far.” Crosshair said wryly.

Mayday kneeled down to examine the body. “Not sure what bothers me more. That he’s wearing armour stolen off my men or that his cohorts just left him here.”

“No point in carrying deadweight.”

Mayday glanced back at Crosshair. “Remind me not to die on your watch.”

Crosshair didn’t pay the comment much mind. He just carried on walking past, but he didn’t get very far as he suddenly came to a complete standstill as he heard the activation click of something hidden in the snowy ground. His best chance was to not move a muscle.

“Pressure mine.” Mayday stated.

“Mm-hmm.” Crosshair nodded.

Mayday brought his light down to examine it. “What were you saying about deadweight?”

“Do you know how to disarm it?”

“I’m not an explosives expert, but since I don’t feel like carrying your body back to the outpost, I guess I’ll give it a shot.” Mayday took off his helmet and put his blaster on the ground as well as his torch- but he kept the light trained on the pressure mine- as he crouched down. He blew away the flakes of snow still covering it. “Hmm. This mine’s a little different than ones I’ve seen before, but I’m pretty sure they’re all the same. Guess we’ll find out soon enough, huh?”

It wasn’t the most comforting of statements for Crosshair to hear, but he’d take any help he could get at this point.

Mayday pulled out his tools and carefully got to work. “I wish I had the proper equipment for this, but the Empire’s ignored all my requests. I’ve learned to improvise though. I guess all clones have had to since the war. Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending…” he sighed, “… until it did.”

As Crosshair stood still on the mine and waited for Mayday to get him out of it, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander and start thinking about his old squad and how different this mission would be going. Tech would have the suitable equipment. Hunter would’ve known where to step to avoid a situation just like this and he’d have made finding these raiders look easy despite the conditions. And, even if one of them still found themselves in this position, Wrecker would’ve disarmed it with a degree of ease and sophistication people wouldn’t necessarily expect from him. While he would never admit it out loud, he was finding that he missed them. Mayday’s question to him pulled him out of his thoughts.

“What unit were you with?”

That was a question he did not want to answer. “It doesn’t matter.” He just about manged to grind out.

“Humour me. I could use the distraction.”

Well, if he wanted them both to make it out of this, he had to do what Mayday was asking of him. “Clone Force 99.”

“What happened to them?”

“They’re gone.” He replied subduedly. It wasn’t a lie. They were gone and he didn’t know where they had wound up or even if they were all still together and alive. It had been a long time now since that day on the platform on Kamino.

“And here we are, the survivors.” Mayday peered up at Crosshair. “Hmm. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments.”

If he let his mind start to drift down that path any more than he already had on occasion, then he’d lose all sense of purpose. He’d lose that purpose he was so sure this Empire would provide. “Mission’s a mission.”

Mayday chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah, I used to say the same thing.” He inspected his work and grabbed his gear before he stood up. “There. That should do it.” As he saw Crosshair start to move, spoke up swiftly. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t pick up your foot yet. Wait until I tell you, then lift it, but real slow like.” He started to walk past him. “I’ll wait around the bend. If I don’t hear a boom, then I’ll know it worked.”

“Glad your confident in your work.”

Mayday put his helmet back on as he continued to walk away. “Oh, I’m confident. I’m just not stupid. Remember, nice and slow. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

Crosshair lifted his foot and sighed in relief when there was no explosion.

The two of them made their way out the tunnel into the storm. It was then they saw the light radiating from the raider’s base and they put their plan of attack into action.

It had been going well. The enemy bas was destroyed, and they were able to reclaim the cargo. They went down to the area where the cargo had spilled. But it was then when it had started to go wrong as they both discovered what it was they were risking their lives for and what it was Mayday and his men had men had devoted their lives to defending. And… and it wasn’t worth the fight they had put in.

“Gear?” Mayday said aloud as he examined the boxes. “We’ve been risking our lives to recover equipment we could have been wearing this whole time?”

Crosshair nudged a helmet with his foot to expose the design. “It’s not clone trooper gear.” Because why would it be? They were disposable after all.

Mayday picked up a breastplate. “New toys for their shiny new military, and we get the scraps. After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed… We’re good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?”

Crosshair didn’t have an answer for him. He thought he’d been a good solider but how was that being rewarded? He couldn’t see it. If he had any lingering doubts about where his place in this Empire was, this mission was doing a good job of eradicating them. He, Mayday, and all his fellow clones weren’t valued. They weren’t worth anything to this Empire.

Suddenly, a growing rumbling echoed around them.

“Go!” Mayday ordered as he saw avalanche hurtling towards them from the mountain behind them.

They ran as fast as they could through the deep snow, but they couldn’t outrun it, the best they could do was make it past the rock ahead.

Crosshair didn’t know what happened. One minute both of them were running side by side, and the next Mayday was knocking him past the rock and letting himself get swept up by the snow first which meant he smashed into the rockface.

Crosshair’s helmet was knocked away and the best he could do was take a deep breath as the snow smothered him.

Crosshair punched a hand through the top of the snow before his head followed and he breathed in the cold air. His entire body was numb and shivering but he couldn’t dwell on that for too long since he’d caught sight of Mayday’s helmet a few metres ahead. He heaved his way through the waist deep snow towards it and started to desperately dig through to find his companion.

It was after a few moments that Mayday’s face came into view, but his eyes were shut, and his body was limp as Crosshair propped him against the rock behind him. “Mayday? Mayday, wake up!” The faint groan from Mayday’s mouth was enough of an indicator that he was alive… that there was hope for him. “Come on. We have to move.”

Mayday’s eyes flickered open. “Go.” He gasped. “I won’t make it.”

Crosshair didn’t know what possessed him to grab Mayday’s helmet and put it back on his head. All he knew now as he supported Mayday’s body was that it was something he had to do. He had to make sure they both made it back and Mayday would survive. He was going to get them both through the storm.

Hunter came back from the cockpit to see everyone else asleep but you. You were perched on the edge of your bunk looking utterly shattered and anything but relaxed. You still had all your gear on, minus the one vambrace you’d taken off to tend to your cut earlier. “Sweetheart, you need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t.” You mumbled, utterly defeated, as you brought your head down to lean against his shoulder.

Hunter rested his head on top of yours. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I can’t because I don’t know.” You sighed deeply and pushed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m just so tired.”

“What can I do?” Hunter asked softly.

“Knock me out until we rendezvous with Phee.” You suggested, only half kidding.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, but we can keep it as an option.” Hunter said lightly. “Come on.” He gently nudged you up, ignoring your slight groan of protest. He went to the ground in front of you.

“Okay, but I’m pretty tired, can’t promise I’ll be super enthusiastic.” You attempted levity but your tone was too flat.

“Hush you.” Hunter said with a slight grin. He got to work on taking your boots off before he came to sit next you. He started to delicately take your remaining armour off before he reached for the ends of your first layer. “Arms up.” He prompted tenderly.

Your arms felt heavy, but you did as he asked and he brought it up and over your head, taking care to not let you get caught in the material. “Now what?” You asked drearily.

“Now you lie down and close your eyes.”

“You know, I have tried doing that.” You said drily.

Hunter gave you an imploring look. “Just trust me, okay?”

You did and so you found yourself lying back down.

Hunter enveloped you. He rubbed, light, soothing patterns across your arms and back. He could feel how tense you were. He kept his voice quiet and low to create as restful an environment as he could for you. “I want you to focus on me. Nothing else. Nothing else matters. It’s just you and me here right now. Switch off. Focus on my voice. Focus on my heartbeat. Breathe with me.” He stared taking slow, deep breaths whilst continuing his peaceful touches. “It’s just us. I’m right with you. You don’t have to think about anything else. I love you. I’ll always be right here.”

You did as he asked. His hands were warm- if a little rough- against your arms but years of wielding a blaster would have that effect and you welcomed that feeling. It reminded you of all that he had survived, of what you all had survived and that he was there with you. Deep breaths. He’s here. He’s okay. Everyone’s okay. Shut it off. You thought to yourself. You mirrored his breathing and continued to listen to his words.

As the minutes grew longer and you continued to listen to him, you felt yourself start to relax into him. Your eyes grew heavy, and it was easier to keep them shut this time. How’d you know how to do this so well?

“Growing up with enhanced senses had its difficulties. I had to learn how to manage it.” He felt you nuzzle closer to him, and a deep sigh left your body. “There you go” He murmured as he kept caressing your body. “Keep breathing with me.”

Things felt easier now as you focused on him, on his scent, on the feeling of his hands on your body, on his breathing. And the last thing you remembered was you telling him you loved him and the kiss to the top of your head from him before you drifted off.

Crosshair staggered onto the main platform of the outpost and fell to his knees. He tried to be as gentle as he could when it came to putting Mayday down.

“About time you two returned.” Nolan said harshly as he approached the two men.

“He-” Crosshair broke off with an exhausted pant before he removed Mayday’s helmet. “He needs a medic.”

Nolan ignored him. “I see you didn’t retrieve the crates, which means you’ve failed your mission.”

How could that be all he was concerned about? “Did you hear what I said? Help him!” Crosshair begged as he could feel the pain and weariness creeping into his own body, but Mayday needed the help first. He had to be saved.

“Certainly not. That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

“He’ll- He’ll die.” Did they truly not care? And it was then he heard one last pained cough from Mayday before his eyes shut and he fell silent. Crosshair searched for a pulse but found none. No. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire.” Nolan said unsympathetically.

Crosshair could feel white hot anger start to rise within him. “You- You could have saved him!”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. He is expendable, as are you.”

And there it was. Confirmation of the doubt he had been trying so hard to deny. Hunter had been right. They were only ever numbers.

“And if you speak to me again with such disrespect, I’ll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.” Nolan continued disdainfully.

Crosshair caught the sight of the shadow of one of the ice vultures. He knew they were coming for Mayday. But it shouldn’t be here for him.

“Now, leave him and get back to work… while you’re still useful.” Nolan started to walk back to the shuttle.

Crosshair looked up to the sky and started at the circling bird. He’d thought he’d found a way to survive on his own too but that had changed. He was supposed to have this incredible ability to see things others couldn’t. How had he been so blind for so long? Well, no more. He’d had enough. He wasn’t concerned about the consequences he would face with what he was about to do. All he knew was that he wouldn’t give this Empire anything more.

He got unsteadily got to his feet and trained his blaster on the retreating back on Lieutenant Nolan. “Lieutenant.” He didn’t hesitate and the shot went straight through Nolan’s chest as soon as he turned around. It was after that final act that he finally let the exhaustion and agony take him and his sight went dark.

You awoke with a start and sat up. Things had been going well but that was a new development. You rested a hand on your chest as you felt your heart pounding. You shivered. You were cold, both outwardly and inwardly. There was a deep chill in your veins that left you feeling frozen and unsettled. You took a few deep breaths to settle yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter rasped; his voice still thick with sleep as he sat up alongside you and laid his hand on your back.

“I don’t know.” You murmured uneasily as you fiddled with the bandage on your arm. “Something woke me up. There was this cold shadow and all I could feel was fear and pain, but I couldn’t see what from or who.”

“It was just a bad dream.” Hunter comforted. He kissed the back of your shoulder. “Come on, you should try to get back to sleep.”

“Right… a bad dream.” You whispered distantly as you let him lay you back down. Whatever it was that had woken you up, it felt real, it wasn’t just a bad dream, you were experiencing what someone else was going through but you didn’t have a face to put to the feeling and you didn’t know what it could be. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of Hunter’s arm draped over you, holding you close, but you couldn't shake the feeling like there was something more to what just happened and so sleep didn’t easily come this time around.

Crosshair woozily came around to the sound of equipment beeping. He didn’t recognise where he was, and it was then he heard the muffled sound of someone addressing him.

“Hello, CT-9904. Or do you prefer, Crosshair?”

His name. She was using his name. The woman that was speaking to him seemed to be some kind of doctor. “Where am I?” He asked wearily.

“I’m holding you for observation. Once you’ve healed, the doctor will come for you.”

She was holding a needle to his neck, yet she wasn’t the primary medic? “Who- Who are you?”

“Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive.” That was all he registered before the needle pierced his skin and he fell into darkness once more.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @starwarsnerd111,

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch s2 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter xreader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #angst #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort

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good-to-drive · 5 months

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Do you think that George and John would have fixed their relationship had John lived past 1980? Because I don't.

I'm probably the wrong person to ask about this because in general I'm not a fan of speculating about what a person would or wouldn't have done had they lived. One of my favorite pieces of advice I ever got was when I was tutoring disadvantaged students during college (the best job I've ever had) and my supervisor told me potential is unknowable by definition. Meaning it's just as misguided and counterproductive to say someone has a lot of potential as to say they have no potential, because that's just not how that word works. Partly because people are dynamic and changeable but also because there are recesses of our character that no one, including ourselves, can be aware of.

So I truly don't know what would have happened between them, and I don't think you know either if I'm being totally honest. But, to throw all that out the window and speculate anyways, I think the most realistic answer is: Possibly.

I think it's fair to say that John and George were both highly mutable individuals, and that of the four beatles they spent the most time and energy trying to understand the self and achieve some kind of self awareness and personal growth (even if those attempts were sometimes misguided -- I'm looking at you, primal therapy). And I think in this case their mutability is both a complicating factor and an indication that reconciliation really was a true possibility for them.

John was making enormous strides in his mental and emotional health at the time of his death, and it's entirely possible that might have led him to feel differently about George over time, or to simply decide he didn't want to put energy towards being angry at him anymore. (Not to equate letting go of anger with being adapted/self-aware – just that that’s one way growth can manifest, it’s definitely not the only one or the best one.)

For his part, George was very vocal both musically and irl about all the ways he felt he needed to change/grow, though of course whether he ever got there is a difficult question to answer. His views on forgiveness are really interesting here (and sometimes a little magnanimous, tbh) but one thing that initially surprised me is that Paul credits George with convincing him to forgive Yoko.

(Which I guess just surprised me because I always believed the conventional wisdom that Paul is the sweetie and George is the cranky guy, but obviously that's a very limited snapshot of both of them.)

Anyways, to me the fact that George was putting time and energy towards learning to love Yoko implies that he may have been hoping or wanting to relearn his love for John as well (if he hadn't already.)

So I do think it’s possible that at some point in the last 40 years they’d both have been in a mental space to want to interact positively with one another again. It's not something that was guaranteed to happen, and I don't think we can even fairly say it was probable or improbable because that implies a level of knowledge of their souls that no one has or has ever had, but it's not outside the realm of possibility.

On a related note, another thing I've found kind of profound in analyzing the beatles (or anyone) is the line “The wounds of childhood do not heal” (Maryse Condé, Crossing the Mangrove.) Which is to say that the pain we experience as children shapes us so profoundly that every experience we have as adults is seen through the lens of that pain, and we reenact our childhood and our childhood family systems again and again without healing.

Now, in the case of the beatles, I think it’s a little blurry what constitutes childhood and what constitutes a family system (“family” system being a misnomer because every close collection of people has the tendency to form a system). Because they found each other as adolescents, and went through a life changing and arguably traumatic experience at a very young age that no one else could ever understand, the system they formed shaped them very powerfully and the wounds it instilled probably never healed, either.

I guess that's my way of saying that the four of them had kind of an extended adolescence, and they continued to reenact the system they built as adolescents in order to survive the insanity they were living in well into adulthood.

Since George was something akin to a forgotten child in this system, and Paul was something akin to a golden child, (both of which are miserable, horrible ways to live, btw – this trend of using golden child to mean “spoiled” is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and also incredibly destructive to people who have actually experienced that trauma) those two really did have a tendency to be at odds with one another throughout their entire adult lives.

(Obligatory reminder that this is wild speculation and I'm not their therapist, or indeed any kind of therapist at all.)

But I think it’s that (and the fact that we tend to analyze anyone who touched Paul’s life purely through the lens of Paul) which tends to make people think George was fundamentally opposed to forgiving people who’d hurt him or allowing systems to adapt over time, even if that assumption doesn't really bear out in any of his other relationships. And, obviously, it's a little tricky to try to transplant the Paul/George relationship onto the John/George relationship and equate or even compare the two, because John played a very different role in the system and was a very different person from Paul.

Also, the fact that the wounds of childhood do not heal absolutely does not imply that we'll always be a slave to them. Crossing the Mangrove is an amazing book about decolonization and intergenerational trauma but one of its most powerful themes was the idea that we can continue to build ourselves and build our world in the shadow of enormous pain. And we'll always be informed by that pain, but being informed isn't the same as being defined.

All this is just to say it's very hard to anticipate what kind of changes John and George would have undergone in the last 20-40 years and whether those changes would have brought them closer together (or, if not closer together, would have encouraged a sense of acceptance towards one another.)

I also think there’s a conversation to be had about whether rebuilding that friendship would have actually been for the best for their mental and emotional wellbeing (a LOT of children from toxic family systems ultimately come to find that sorting through the pain isn’t worth it for the chance of reconciliation and that’s okay), but this is already way too long lol.

Anyways, thanks for the ask and sorry this turned into such a novel!

#I think this is in response to my saying it's okay for paul to hold onto anger #and I guess I'd say it's also okay for john and george to hold onto anger #and it's okay for you too #that's a natural part of life and not a moral failure #paul mccartney #george harrison #john lennon #the beatles #beatles #ask #anon

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zzencat · 2 months

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Tarot Mini Reading Request

My initials: SR, Sabrina Rocha

17.06.2004

Sun-Moon-Mercury-Venus-Lilith Gemini ♊️

His Initials: RP, Rico P.

29.11.1991

Coworker at gastro, leader/shift supervisor 2nd in-command. Charismatic, hard to get to know personally. Problem-solver, strategic and professional. Great at teamwork. Gym rat. No hobbies. No faith in love or trust, but seems to be devoted to God (wears cross), always has his doppio espresso. Speaks Spanish and likes Shisha bars.

Green eyes, tall and very fit, beautiful smile. Blueish-greenish grey aura/vibes.

Sort of became a little more softie towards me. Caring when I don’t make him book food for my dinner (one of his tasks for the team), sometimes double-asking. Defending me from a disrespectful coworker on some occasions. Seemingly being closer to me at times. Or like that time he stared almost intensely at my eyes….and I tried to hold the stare until I looked down and away…shy as hell.

Last time we worked together, I gifted him a letter. Sort of love letter confessing that I like him more than just a coworker and inviting him to a coffee date. Also reassuring him I respect him a lot as a person and hope nothing will change after this if he feels uncomfortable or can’t reciprocate the feelings back. At the end telling a little more about me via a self-made quote and songs. A few drawings and scents (coffee, vanilla and lemongrass) on the letter and envelope.

What will the answer be or rely to be most likely? Positive, negative. Any other cards telling more, as it’s a short reading?

I’d be willing to expand on that through paying a little extra amount for more card pulls and energy-reading.

Thank you so much already!

sabrina sorry but does his surname happen to be…puerto?? nah nah im kidding 😂😂😂 my own lil jokes haha im playin

rico’s energy?

ok so…he kinda has a weird energy to him? it’s kinda strange. it’s like he’s putting on some sort of act or something or maybe he has to but yeah you’re right about him being hard to open up. he’s getting there yes, also correct.. but there’s something that’s going to be revealed and it will change everything. it was probably your little confession, but he’s taking everything into account. it’s also strange that i got deception like 3 times in the reading already. not in a bad way but like…hiding his true feelings? ik this is a little late so idk if he’s answered you yet, but in his mind he’ll try to keep things as peaceful and harmonious, at least at work. i will say that whatever the outcome is, you’ll try to keep yourself balanced and logical. it’s gonna be hard at work but you’ll try really, realllllly hard. you might hold back feelings or suppress some emotions. also i pulled some advice for you. again, whatever the outcome, make sure you don’t change yourself. love will come to you naturally. ALSO!!!! be very careful materially. don’t be sharing finances out so easily, NO MATTER WHO THEY ARE!!!!!!! very important. be careful of theft as well. be careful who you let in easily. if you’re already guarded and are an alert person, that’s going to do you some good for now. i think you’re a fair person or at least you want to act fairly. you might have some moments where you feel like you have to overcompensate or prove yourself and your worth, especially at this job. be careful that you don’t become greedy materially. AND if people know you’re a hardworker and they happen to know how much you make, even if it’s more than them maybe, be careful with that as well. i want you to be super cautious money wise. you’ll feel down at times and to deal with it, you could put that energy into work or other things, so make sure you rest yourself and give yourself time to sit down and process emotions sometimes ok? i don’t think you give up easily either so good on you! you’re just getting started hahah. and you are worthy alright? don’t ever doubt it.

i think there’s possibility for there to be a love connection (in the future)! it just probably won’t happen super soon bc of financial reasons. he could feel pretty stuck and unsure how to really move on from now. whatever the outcome, he doesn’t want there to be drama between you two or work. he’d like to keep everything civil. if he’s a little avoidant, it’s probably bc you’re taking steps to pursue him. not that he thinks it’s bad! he’s just kind of in that…uncertain period, esp emotionally. it’s not you tho! not your fault or anything. the good thing is that he’ll try to be nice about everything. maybe it won’t happen so soon, but there is definitely a chance for you in the future with this guy. it could also be an age thing, so maybe he’s waiting for you to be more financially stable or just ready in general. he could also be in that energy where if he pursues this relationship, he’s thinking about *everything* that could change in his life.

that’s all i have for you sabrina!! thank you for joining the game :)

#mini readings game by teddy :)#tarot reading #tarotblr

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brinkworth · 3 months

Text

I heard it was your birthday @heartofspells, so I wrote you a little crack fic as a gift. (curse?) Featuring Remus, who is just trying to print his smutty fanfiction and runs into printer trouble. Happy Birthday!

Tech Support

Remus can pinpoint the exact moment his bad luck started. He’d been working on a project, printing some of his favourite fanfiction. He liked the story so much that he wanted to put a physical copy on his shelf.

It was all going smoothly at first, his printer churning out pages, all with perfectly crisp black letters printed neatly in rows. He clapped his hands in celebration. At this rate, this project would be done in record time.

That’s exactly when the bad luck starts. The printer makes an alarming noise; the paper caught half in the printer and half out. After several angry beeps, the screen reads ‘Error - printer jammed. Please clear printer and try again.’

When he opens the machine, it’s full of paper jammed into every nook and cranny. Places he didn’t know paper could even go in a printer. The printer seems to fight him as he removes it. He has to press a foot against the desk for leverage to pull out a particularly stubborn piece and the printer makes an awful grinding noise. It’s later that he sees the warning message that says, ‘Do not remove paper by pulling in this direction.’

“Oops.”

Several hours later, he’s sitting next to a printer that no longer feeds paper at all as tech support tells him they’ll mail him a new one. It should be there in 7-10 business days.

This just won’t do. Remus doesn’t want to wait that long, so he makes a trek to the store and buys a new printer. Now he’ll have two, but they’re different. And he prints a lot, so it’s worth it. Only upon getting it home, the printer won’t print anything legibly. It all comes out looking like a copy of a copy of a copy. Remus spends hours adjusting settings and test printing.

In the end, he’s sitting next to a stack of badly printed pages of his favourite smutty fanfiction when he’s back on the phone with tech support.

“Hello, thank you for calling The Printer Company. My name is Sirius. How can I help you?”

“Er- yes, hello, I just purchased a new printer and I’m having trouble with the quality.”

Sirius is very nice and seems committed to fixing the problem. He has Remus test different settings and try again several times. After 45 minutes on the phone, though, they’ve accomplished nothing. It all looks the same, and Sirius is now just as frustrated as Remus.

“Will you send me a few photos of your printed pages? One good one from your old printer and one from your new printer,” Sirius asks. “It will help me see what the problem is, and I can share them with my supervisor, who might have an idea.”

“Oh - er - sure, yeah.” Remus replies, kicking himself immediately. He should have just hung up.

He suddenly feels too hot. He begins to root frantically through his stack of papers, to find ones that might be appropriate to send.

“Oh God, definitely not that one.” He thinks, more than once.

A few awkward minutes later, he’s found two pages that look fairly clean, though by the character names, it will be clear what this is, if Sirius has ever read one of the most popular book series ever written. WHY couldn’t these characters be named something normal? Like George and Henry…

He sends the photos and chews on his thumbnail as he waits for Sirius’ response.

“Oh, I see them right here,” Sirius says eventually. There’s a shuffling noise and Remus thinks he hears Sirius snort.

Sirius hums as if he’s studying them carefully. “I’m afraid I’m having a hard time telling these two apart...”

How is that possible? Remus wonders. They are so starkly different.

“I’m just going to read these out loud to verify which is which,” Sirius says. And Remus swears he can hear the man smirk through the phone.

Remus’ eyes widen. “Oh, of course, sure,” he blurts out and then kicks himself again.

As Sirius reads, Remus wants to crawl into a hole and die. The man takes his time, drawing it out, and reading more than must be necessary for what he needs.

“Yes, yeah, you’ve got that right,” Remus says in the end, just ready to be done with this.

Another 30 minutes later, Sirius has walked him through how to fix the printer and Remus is anxious to hang up before he can embarrass himself further.

“Thanks so much,” Remus says, his finger hovering over the end call button.

“Happy to help,” Sirius says. “And you have good taste, Remus.”

Remus’ head jerks back in surprise. “Sorry?”

“I’m partial to Heartofspells’ work myself, but this is good too.”

Remus is stunned into silence for a few moments before replying weakly. “Oh.”

“Have a good day, and feel free to ask for me personally if you need help again in the future.”

Remus bit back a smile. Maybe his luck wasn’t so bad after all.

#Happy Birthday Holli!#Wolfstar #crack fic

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months

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Hi~~ Could I have prompt 17 "Rebel girl you are the queen of my world" for New Year's Eve with this man, please?

P.S: thanks for feeding me with all these reblogs with Scola these past few days. It made my days :)

Honestly I am living for these two right now after writing this. Thank you for prompting for this one, it was such a fun one to explore.

You have a reputation, for being a little wild, a little reckless. You think Stuart doesn’t know about it, but he does. You’re a complete pain in the ass to anyone who has the pleasure of supervising you but you’re an expert with explosives and you have nerves of steel. You’ve never faltered in the face of adversity; Stuart's seen it himself. When the chips are down, he’d bet on you every single time.

Which is why he’s standing alongside of you right now while you’re wrist deep in a bomb ignoring the screaming of your boss over your earpiece.

“You should leave Stuart.” You say, your voice terse. “This might get messy.”

“You stay, I stay.” He reminds you and it takes you back to the first time you met.

Him sitting cross legged in the reception area of 26 Fed with a pipe bomb strapped to his chest, the scent of your perfume flooding his senses as you leaned in close. Amber and jasmine, he remembers thinking at the time, something expensive and high end from the subtleness of the notes.

“You should go.” He’d told you as the timer ticked down, your fingers trailing over the wires.

“No.” You’d drawled out the word, your eyes flickering up to meet his. “You stay, I stay. That’s the deal, right?”

There’s a calm in you that surprises him. You’re the shelter in the middle of the storm. The safe space in the midst of all the chaos. He draws strength from that because if you can be solid in that moment so can he.

“We got this.” You'd told him with that beautiful smile of yours. “I promise.”

You reach into your ear and remove the earpiece; Stuart follows suit because the language that’s coming out of your supervisor’s mouth is beyond colourful.

There’s three hundred people in the building above you. They’re trying to evacuate them but there isn’t enough time. That’s the reason you’re still here, if it was just property damage you wouldn’t give a fuck but it’s the people you care about, the lives that’ll be burned up if you don’t do this.

“I need the multi-tool in my top right pocket, but I can’t take my hands out of the casing.” You tell him, your brow furrowing in concentration.

He seeks out the tool, removing it from the vest before taking a deep breath and plunging his hand into the depths of the device. He presses it into your palm, and you take it carefully, grasping it tightly in your fingers before you clamp the wire and snip.

The two of you go still. Stuart’s eyes meet yours and he sees your lips twitch up into a smile. He can’t help but smile back because his girl, she’s a little crazy and that make him a little crazy. You withdraw your hand from the casing and put your earpiece back into your ear.

“The device is disarmed.” You say as you tuck the multitool back into your pocket, tapping your fingertips on it twice for good luck.

There’s silence on the opposite end before your supervisor utters.

“Christ Sasha, you cut it close.”

“Do I get to keep my badge?” You ask him, referring to his earlier threat and Stuart shakes his head because his girl does not pull her punches. “Or do I have to find an alternative means of employment? Stuart always says I’d make a pretty good barista.”

“Just get your ass out here, bomb disposal will be on scene in ten.”

“Copy that.” You say before pulling out your earpiece again.

“You’re such a rebel.” Stuart says fondly as his hands cup your face. His thumbs ghost over your cheeks as he leans in close, his athletic form presses against yours and he can see the excitement in your eyes as his nose trails along the length of yours.

It’s the adrenaline that’s driving him. All he wants to do right now is get you in the back of the SUV and fuck you until your saying his name. You want it too; he can tell by the noise you make when his lips brush over yours.

“Later.” He promises as he tips your chin up to meet his gaze. “Go outside and play nice first, I’ll ruin you when we get home.”

Love Scola? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@kmc1989 @trublu2u @greenies-green @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @yezzyyae

#fbi cbs #stuart scola #stuart scola x reader #stuart scola x you #scola #scola x reader #scola x you

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bengiyo · 3 months

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Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear! Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Thanks again to @isaksbestpillow for making this watch possible.

Last time, we met Okita Makoto, a middle-aged supervisor of a copier sales company whose toxic masculinity has let him down in his professional and personal relationships. He regularly offends his juniors (especially the women on their team), his kpop stan wife, mangaka daughter, and queer son. An unlikely encounter with a self-assured gay man led to the start of a new friendship, and Okita has promised his son that he will work to update himself so he can connect with his family and peers.

I am a little sad for this man that the opening sequence was a dream. As off-putting as he is, I do think he genuinely cares for his family.

Mm, ruined it immediately by being rude to Moe.

Oh, Okita. You can't walk it back right away like that. You're going to kill the trust of your team. You just said that people have a right to their breaks.

Oof, that was painful. Growth is not easy and not a straight line.

Wow, finally a show captures the constant pressure heteronormativity places on you when you don't fit in with it. That was an excellent sequence when Kakeru hesitated at the door.

Genuinely, this show is doing really well so far. It's putting in a lot of empathetic work on a man whose position allows his bad behaviors to cause issues for other people. I like that the show doesn't demonize him, and shows that his actions come from a believable human place. I also like that they use the wise gay child to ask the big question: Do you want to connect with others, or have you given up on people altogether?

Bro, you really should not have opened her mail. Even if you were concerned you broke it, you should have just called her down. This is not cool.

I actually like this junior's explanation of why he wears a bra. I'm glad it wasn't a gender thing or even an expectedly queer thing. He just wanted to feel like he's supported and that's enough.

Okay, I'm very excited about Okita Makoto going to sell yaoi at a fan event. I hope he brings Igarashi Daichi with him.

This flashback for Moe was also so good. We all make flippant comments about things we don't like or understand all the time. We won't remember it, but the people around us might. In this case, Moe knows her father will never understand her passions and can't share them with him.

Yes, Daichi!!

Everything about this con is excellent so far. Makoto may be getting shock at everyone's outfits, but he picked up immediately at how determined everyone is and appreciates their discipline.

I love Apple.

Daichi doesn't know what a fujoshi actually is? There's something interesting here about a self-actualized gay not even participating in this part of fandom.

Okay, I'm alright with it. He has the right attitude.

"People who love something are strong." He's beginning to believe.

Yes, Daichi, go on your date!

I teared up when Moe got emotional about Makoto selling the books, and love them ending that moment with her scream about him looking inside the work as a way to check on Kakeru.

I'm glad Makoto only observed that moment between Daichi and that guy, and has to confront the practical reality that Daichi is gay, and not just some magical youth that helps him. Daichi has a life.

Ending on Makoto seeing Kakeru as he wants to be is an excellent way to end this, because he's forced to see that people find strength in passions outside of his experience and must apply it to the people in his life.

This show is so good. There are quite a few characters, and the way they're weaving them into the narrative of the episode is truly special. In this episode we had Kakeru struggling to leave the house because he can't feel safe being seen as he is, while Moe is fighting to get out of the house because she needs to be seen by her people. Makoto is trying, but he's still not ready to see everyone the way they are. This is so legible. I am rooting for everyone.

#Ben watches #ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka #don't care for an old man's underwear #japanese drama #jdrama

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cookycherry · 2 years

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Seeing Red: Park Jimin Oneshot

This is the inspo

There will most likely be a part 2 👀

Pairing- Jimin x reader

Genre- smut, dominating!Jimin, fem!reader, established friendship/work relationship, makeup play?

Warning-smut, dominating, oral sex, fem!receiving

Word count-1,956

Summary-You landed a job as Jimin’s makeup artist and his good boy persona gives you a run for your money.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Jimin looked up at you as you blended some blush on his cheeks lightly, you hadn’t noticed how much your hands were shaking.

You had been Jimin’s new makeup artist for the new tour. For the past few weeks you had been proving yourself to the team time and time again.

When you spent time with Jimin doing his makeup for the promotional material, he was so friendly and welcoming; this continued and eventually you two came to have inside jokes but something about him still made you nervous.

“No. Not at all.” You responded steadily.

You watched as Jimin continued to stare into your soul as you continued with the makeup. The way he looked up at you while you patted rouge lightly on his lips was making it difficult to focus.

Suddenly, the shout from one of the management team members summoning your idol broke the oddly building tension. In a way, saving you.

“Thanks for your hard work. I’ll be seeing you later,” Jimin spoke fondly.

You watched as Jimin stood up and winked at you before proudly walking off to where he was being asked. He looked better than ever. If that was even possible. His hair was dyed a fresh pink that he managed to pull off as if it was natural and he seemed refreshed compared to when you first met him.

Watching him as you put away your supplies you felt your eyes constantly roam over the shirt that hugged his toned arms and torso, then the leather pants that hugged his even more toned butt and thighs.

As if feeling your eyes burning into him he turned around briefly and wagged his brows in a playful manner that just about sent you flying into the vanity behind you.

——

“My apologies, Jimin had an earlier appointment today so as you know missed his makeup test run for the wardrobe change during the set switch.”

You nodded as your supervisor spoke.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you but you’ll need to stay after tonight and meet with him a little later and get this done. We have to make sure the performance is done right for this tour. Send me a picture of his final look so I can log it.”

You took in the words. It wasn’t like you had anything to do anyways. Your new job was what your life was now devoted to, even if you did had some free time this evening it wouldn’t be exploring the sights of Tokyo; it'd be passed out in your hotel bed from exhaustion.

You waited for Jimin watching the clock get closer and closer to 8 pm.

The hair and makeup room was dead silent, everyone else had went back to the hotel or went out for a quick beer and dinner.

Just you were left.

You and Jimin.

It was just three days before the concert, a lot was resting on everyone’s shoulders.

“Don’t look too excited for me.”

You quickly look up and lock eyes with Jimin, he’s smiling in a seductive way that makes your stomach turn in knots.

He was wearing a loose black button down shirt; unbuttoned lazily to expose some of his chest, a pair of black jeans that did little to hide any imagination and his usual Chelsea boots. The way he walked on his way over to you did something to your heart.

You shot up from your seat, “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

His mouth upturned in a playful smile, “Why are you apologizing for waiting for me?”

In fact, you didn’t know why you apologized.

He towered over you and held your gaze with his dark eyes. “Your hands. They’re shaking again.”

“It’s ok, it might just be nerves because we’re so close to the big day.” You bit your lip and playfully laughed trying to remove the focus off of yourself.

He hadn’t seated yet, remained standing and watching you. You began to dig through lipstick and try to find one that captured what the team was visualizing.

You turned to hold it up to his complexion . “I think this will work.” He didn’t move his gaze just continued to stare at you, bedroom eyes.

“I think something else is better suited. Here let me show you.” He leaned his way past you and grabbed a deep red lipstick; one that was probably your favorite out of the options.

“Let me show you. Ok, sit.” He was in charge now and his demeanor was playful but something struck a chord. He was different. You decided to play along. You gladly took a seat in the makeup chair.

“Ok sir.” You laughed breathily.

You watched as he took the cap off the deep red and moved close to begin putting it on your relaxed lips.

“Jimin, you have to put it on that brush first.”

His eyes didn’t break focus, “Relax.” You felt the cold lipstick pat on your mouth and watched his face as he worked meticulously.

“My favorite.” He pulled back smiling his wicked grin you became accustomed to from him on the stage.

You felt your face heat, your cheeks probably turning crimson. You couldn’t find words.

“Mind if I see what it looks like on me?” Jimin cocks his head to the side, his eyes glimmering with playfulness.

“Yes, of course.” You felt your voice crack wearily.

Soon you felt his full, soft lips pressed against yours.

Your body jolted. Your brain was raising alarms how this crossed the boundary of your job but your body moved otherwise, tangling your fingers in his thick pink hair, deepening the contact. One of his hands snaked to pull at your neck as his lips pushed your mouth open more, allowing access for his tongue. A moan left your body, he suddenly pulled back.

His lips were smeared with the same red, he grinned wickedly as he turned to look at himself in the mirror. “I think this is the color.”

You were dumbstruck.

Jimin then turned back to you, you still seated in the chair in awe watching as he held the lipstick in between his fingers.

“This is my favorite color on someone. I really think it suits you especially.” He moved closer, his breath now hitting the shell of your ear. “I want to hear you moan like that again while covered in my red markings.”

Your hands gripped your thighs while they pushed together, his words alone sit shivers to your core.

A moan mixed with a sigh left your chest.

Jimin studied you, staring down at you as you tried to calm yourself.

“I’m so sorry”-“Open your mouth and sit back.”

Jimin cut you off during your panicked apology.

Your job was on the line if this got out , even more his own public image was at stake; despite those two hanging on thin threads you followed his instruction.

“Hold this lipstick between your lips. Don’t make a single noise.” You were confused but nodded, parting your lips. Jimin was everything you dreamed about. You watched as he pushed the lipstick container between your lips, your pursed mouth holding it in place with your teeth floating near.

“I’m going to give you a preview. If I hear a noise come from you it’ll blow our cover and I’ll have to stop. Got that?” You felt your face get warm, your body felt languid but you nodded eagerly and your hands gripped the armrests of the makeup chair.

Jimin moved swiftly, slowly parting open your legs as he held eye contact.

He then clicked his tongue against his teeth, his knuckles sweeping against your inner thigh covered in sheer tights. “These…,”His ring clad fingers pulled at the thin material,”Have to go.” And with that Jimin took both hands and pulled them easily apart exposing your panties to him. Your eyes widened in shock as he tore the tights down, shredded them.

“Don’t worry I’ll have a new pair sent to your room.” Jimin smirked as his fingers ran along your clothed core. You could feel the wetness pooling.

“So wet for me and we haven’t even started.” Jimin bit his lip before running his tongue along his bottom lip. You felt your lips press down on the lipstick fighting the urge to moan as you felt him pull your panties to the side and dip in a ringed finger. You flung your head back feeling your nails dig into the armrests, then you managed to look back down at Jimin. His eyes were narrowed and siren-like as he sinfully smiled.

You felt him pump and curve the single digit before he added a second. Your legs shook as you fought the urge to moan and ruin all of this.

As soon as he was in he removed himself, you wanted to cry at the loss of contact. You watched, your chest heaving as he pulled down your panties pulling them down your legs and past your heels. “I’ll keep these.” He carefully tucked them into his back pocket and looked back at you. You felt yourself melting under his smoldering stare.

“Remember these marks.” You watched as Jimin dipped his head between your thighs and left light kisses and residue of the red lipstick where he made contact with your skin.

His soft kisses made their way closer to your core. He softly nibbled on your right thigh leaving a much larger red stain.

His dark eyes didn’t break contact as he pulled slightly away, his lips murmuring against your skin, “I wish I could hear you moan right now.”

Your teeth bite down softly on the lipstick in your mouth as you feel him spread your legs further and run his tongue against your slit.

“God, I love how you taste already.” You continue to look down and watch him intently. Unable to hold back you run your hands through his thick hair, urging him to continue.

You felt as his tongue slid into your core and flicked against you.

Your head fell back languidly as he continued to pleasure you. Your hands tightened in his hair as you bucked your hips in an attempt to push him closer into you. You felt him hum against your core, pulling back to blow air. You fought hard against the urge to moan his name.

You felt yourself reaching edge as you felt Jimin nip at your clit lightly, soon he gave in and added back his fingers pushing them slowly into you as his mouth continued to work.

You couldn’t rip your eyes away from staring at the top of his head, the mess of pink strands between your fingers.

You had reached your peak, you felt your body shiver and jolt. Jimin pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the remnants of red against his face. You looked down eagerly, your unclothed center was covered in red lipstick stain courtesy of this unhinged man.

Jimin then stood up unphased with lipstick smeared across his perfect features.

He leaned into you, face to face and pulled out the lipstick container from your mouth with a pop!

He smiled wickedly and tucked the makeup in your blouse pocket. “If you want to continue this, I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby tomorrow night at 10:30 p.m. Make sure to wear this.” He straightened himself up and watched you.

You exhaled all of the breath you were holding.

“Did we have something we needed to do?” Jimin prodded as he used a makeup wipe while watching you pull yourself together.

This man was utterly insane but just what you needed.

Part 2…Yeah I can’t resist🐥

#jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts one shot #jimin oneshot #jimin bts #bts x reader

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allsassnoclass · 11 months

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Kid fic prompts

Had a request to gather some prompts about characters with kids! Most of these are single parent aus, but there are other iterations of characters with kids as well.

While I came up with some of these, many of these come from my AU notebook, which is years and years old and from before I properly sourced things. If they are from your prompt list, please let me know and I'll credit or remove them, which ever you prefer!

I'm the band teacher and you're the new choir teacher at this under-funded public school

We knew each other in high school and ran into each other at the grocery store and my teenage child saw the interaction and is now trying to set us up

I PUT THE KID I'M BABYSITTING DOWN FOR TWO SECONDS HOW ARE THEY GONE WHERE-- oh you found them and are now holding them and searching for their guardian

We're camp counselors at the summer camp that we both went to as little kids

We both work at Disney World and all of the little kids LOVE you

Alternatively, you work at Disney World and I did not mentally prepare myself for spending a full day at the park with my child and no adult backup and you're an employee who is saving my life at every turn

I don't like you and you don't like me but our best friends died in a car crash and left their 1-year-old child in our custody so now we've got to act civil and learn how to co-parent

You run my kid's daycare

I'm only at this park because my younger sibling wanted to come (not because I'm secretly a small child inside haha what are you talking about) why are YOU here?

We both babysit the same kid on different days and I have to listen to the kid gush about you the entire time I'm watching them and we're FINALLY meeting at the kid's birthday party

We are overly invested soccer parents

I'm the host of a children's TV show and you're the child supervisor on set

The kids we're escorting to trick or treating on Halloween just dropped their bags and got all of their candy mixed up

I accidentally scared a kid on Halloween and their adult is angry

Your kid keeps kicking the back of my seat on this airplane

Hey we hooked up last night and it turns out you're my kid's teacher

My parents died and left me, a barely legal adult, in charge of my kid sibling and the only person that I can be myself around is you, some guy I work with at my crappy minimum wage job

My baby insists on crying all night long and you came into the hallway of our apartment complex to see what's up and offer help

We're the only single parents in the play group and all of the other parents are definitely shipping us hardcore

My kid threw a fit at the ice cream/toy/whatever store and you were the only person nice enough to help without judging me

Our kids are best friends and oh look we're both single so I guess I'll ask you out for a drink

I'm on the bus and my 2-year-old won't stop crying except you just smiled at them and they did

I asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again

You asked me to the store with you and your child and now my distant relative we met thinks I'm married with a kid

We're friends and my child's first word was your name and I'm jealous and also kind of endeared

You've been sleeping at mine because you're house is being renovated and we aren't even dating, yet every time you wake up to the baby crying and sigh "I'll go" I feel like we might as well be married

We've been on a few dates and my child just asked us when we're getting married

Our children are in the same class and we both hate the teacher, eventually the parent's evenings are just us competing at who can call out snarkier comments

We are the only two parents to agreed to attend the school trip (bonus: so I guess we share this hotel room...?)

I'm so sorry that my child pointed out how your shirt--actually never mind, I agree, that shirt is horrendous

You crouched down to coo at my baby but I forgot to tell you their favorite thing to do is play with people's hair and now they won't let go of you

I work as an elf at a mall Santa grotto and you keep bringing a seemingly endless supply of kids through to meet Santa

#prompts #kid fic prompts #single parent au #teacher au #i have written one of these and i have plans for a few more

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purpleqilinwrites · 10 months

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confession scene.

a/n: my favourite cousin sent me an early christmas gift and it was a bottle of ck one! it smells like teenage memories from the early 2000's, which is what inspired this piece. also, happy birthday to gojou!

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojou satoru

genre: fluff

info: reader is from a non-sorcerer family; this takes place pre-canon timeline

warnings: high school dumbassery

synopsis: gojou has the utmost trust in ieiri's (unconventional) wingwoman technique.

word count: 2.0k

fluff-vember prompt: high school crush

fluff-vember 2023 masterlist is here.

Gojou Satoru

Gojou always struck you as sort of weird.

It was one thing to find him weird because you were from a non-sorcerer family. Gojou's weirdness, however, seemed to be completely impossible to explain even when you considered he might be a weirdo because of the kind of family he was from.

"You look like you could use a smoke," said Ieiri, emerging from around the corner and coming to stand beside you.

You waved your hand to greet her, but you quickly closed your hand into a fist when she plucked a spare cigarette from her skirt pocket and held it out to you. "Wouldn't kill you if it was only once in a while," she said, and her tone was akin to if you were the one she discovered smoking behind the school compound while still in uniform.

Ieiri took no offence to your instant refusal and slipped the cigarette back into her pocket.

"Has Gojou gone home yet?" you asked, after looking over Ieiri's head. "Those blue eyes seem to be following me everywhere these days." A tall silhouette peeked out from the same corner that she had just appeared out of, and you whipped your head to face the vending machine in front of you, pretending to be deep in thought about which drink to buy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that it was just one of the supervisors rushing by. Probably on the way to Yaga-sensei's office.

An exhale of relief left you, and you could feel your shoulders dropping into a more relaxed position. Ieiri's pointed gaze on you called some of the tension back into your posture. "Did you want something?" you asked, slotting a few coins in the vending machine and pressing the button for a bottle of cold barley tea.

You bent to retrieve your drink from the pick-up port. When you stood up straight, you found Ieiri leaning against the vending machine. Was she trying to block you from leaving? You couldn't think of a reason for her to want to do anything like that. Then again, everyone you met in Tokyo Jujutsu Tech was, in one way or the other, beyond the boundaries of any logic a non-sorcerer could think up. You simply chalked it up to weirdness being a pre-existing condition for sorcerers, and they were weird in every shade of the word.

"Gojou's still in school," Ieiri said, after a while. Your drink was already sweating in your hand, so you opened the cap and took a swig, leaving room for her to keep talking. She looked like she had a lot more to say. "Gojou also bribed me to ask you this: what perfume are you wearing, and where did you get it?"

The sip you were about to take sloshed out of the bottle and onto your uniform jacket when you failed to connect your mouth to your drink.

Ieiri miraculously had a handkerchief in her other skirt pocket. You took it from her gratefully and began patting down the wet spot on your chest. "Oh, and he doesn't want you to tell me. He wants you to text him a picture and the name of the place you got it. For privacy, he says."

If Gojou wasn't the weirdest person in your school at this point in time, he definitely had no competition now.

You grunted as a means of acknowledging the weird request and the even weirder conditions. "I don't get it," you said, wringing Ieiri's handkerchief to make sure it wasn't soaked through with barley tea. She put her hand out with her palm facing up, telling you that she was going to wash it anyway.

"He like-likes you," she said, after she snatched her handkerchief from you. You had insisted on washing it for her before returning it, but the words for it never made it past your throat. Instead, her statement dawned on you, and you choked on your saliva. She patted you on the back. Was she consoling you, or was she trying to help you clear your throat?

"No," was the first thing you managed to say.

That made Ieiri cackle, and she slapped your back to punctuate each "ha!" that escaped her. You moved away from her, clicking your tongue. She opted to push her hand against the glass of the vending machine to continue her weird sorcerer laughing fit. You took another gulp of your barley tea, making sure the mouth of the bottle was touching your lips before you tipped it back to drink from it.

When Ieiri appeared to have calmed down, there was an expectant look in her eyes. You sighed, remembering the bomb she had just dropped on you. "Fine," you groaned. "I'll snap a pic and send it to Gojou with the name of the mall."

She cheered, and she hooked her arm around yours. "I'll take you on a coffee date with the bribe money," she said, too loudly. You narrowed your eyes at her. She plastered an innocent smile onto her face, showing you all her teeth. You wanted to shake her off your arm, but she tangled her other arm in the mix to keep you from getting away.

"I'll take you on a coffee date! Just the two of us! It'll be fun!"

Why was she yelling? As you continued to struggle feebly against her, she insistently mouthed a "say 'yes'" to you. Your brain floundered for a moment, and she began to nod her head aggressively as she continued to mouth those words to you.

"It's a date!" you managed, and your voice came out too shrill to be natural. Surely, Gojou wasn't that dumb, right? If he was lurking nearby and eavesdropping, he wouldn't fall for something as fake as that—

"Ieiri, you betrayer! You're supposed to be my wingwoman!"

No, Gojou was, in fact, dumber than you gave him credit for.

Ieiri's smile was conspiratorial when you shot her a look of disapproval. She let go of your arm as soon as Gojou came stomping up to the two of you, sunglasses askew on his nose from the violence in his movements.

It was only when he was close enough for his shadow to loom over you that you realised Ieiri wasn't lying. She wasn't trying to get a reaction out of you either. Gojou's cheeks were dusted pink now that you got a good look at him, and the colour in his ears was far more pronounced than that on his face.

He did. He did like-like you.

"Hand it over," Ieiri said, shouldering her way into the space between Gojou and you. Her hand was face-up, and she kept knocking it against his sternum. Gojou humphed, shoving his hand into his pants pocket and pulling out an admittedly obscene roll of cash for the petty task he set for Ieiri. She closed her hand over the money and tugged on it until he let go, hissing at her like a feral cat.

With her reward money in hand, she slid back to your side. She winked at you, smiling brightly as she raised her hand as though she had won a trophy. "Study break's next week, so let's go then," she said, purposely ignoring the glare Gojou was fixing on her. "We can check out that fancy place in Ginza! The one with the hot barista." She made a show of pocketing the roll of cash before she skipped away.

"So," you said, after standing in silence for a while and deciding you couldn't bear it. It was the longest Gojou has gone without speaking since you met him. You tried to make eye contact with him, but he was making it difficult by holding the bridge of his sunglasses up with his finger.

"So," Gojou repeated, finally putting his hand down. He had been bouncing incessantly on his heels, lips pinched. You were about to ask him why he felt the need to get Ieiri to ask you about your signature fragrance, but you stopped yourself when he opened his mouth.

Gojou ended up closing his mouth a second after he opened it, so you spoke instead.

"You could've just asked me," you said. "It's not a secret or anything, you know?" Gojou's hands were in his pants pockets with the thumbs hanging out. You've been watching his thumbs slide here and there as he fidgeted all this while, and it made your own hands itch for something to do.

You uncapped your barley tea and finished it off in a few big gulps.

"I didn't want to make it weird." His answer surprised you. It seemed like nothing fazed him. You had assumed that potential embarrassment was one of those things that had no effect on him whatsoever. It was only now that you realised that you were mistaken.

"It wouldn't have been weird," you said. "Well, until now. Bribing a friend to ask is definitely weird."

Gojou took offence at that, and he jabbed an accusing finger at your shoulder. "I'm not weird! You are!" he insisted, the pink on his face deepening to red. "And you smell weird!"

At his half-hearted insults, you laughed. You quickly put up a hand to stifle your laughter when you noticed Gojou was starting to sweat, his brow starting to glimmer in the late afternoon sun. It made your chest swell with pride that you had done that to him, but you pushed the thought to the back of your mind to feel good about when this weird conversation was over.

"Okay, and?" You egged him on, pulling an Ieiri and mustering your most innocent smile by flashing some teeth.

Gojou visibly stiffened, and he ripped his finger away from your shoulder like he had been burned. He angled his body away from you slightly, making eye contact with you for the briefest of moments before he abruptly broke it. There was the sound of a cough. He lifted his hand to cover his mouth, and a series of mock coughs filtered out from the gaps in his fingers.

"I-just-really-like-you—" He cleared his throat in that obnoxiously self-important manner that the old Zenin man supposedly did. The Zenin grandpa only swung by Tokyo Jujutsu Tech once to see Gojou, and he never let any of you forget how insufferable he apparently found him.

The image of Gojou ridiculing and pointing at a rude old man made you chuckle unbidden, and Gojou made sure to let you know that you've provoked him, gasping dramatically as he put a hand to his chest.

"Sorry! I just remembered you said some old sorcerer clan man was here last week and you—"

Gojou gasped again, his expression scandalised. "I'm sweating just trying to confess the deep and secret feelings of my heart, and you're thinking of other men? You're unbelievable! So ungrateful, too."

The weird but entertaining Gojou you were familiar with had finally come up to the surface, and you couldn't help giving him a playful smack on the arm. "But you do like-like me, right?" you asked, still all smiles and teeth. Ieiri would be proud. You made a mental note to tell her all about it when you met for that fancy coffee date in Ginza. In front of the hot barista too, as a little treat.

Gojou raised a finger to his chin, pretending to reconsider. He hummed, as if trying to force a reaction out of you. When you failed to respond the way he felt was appropriate, he huffed. "If you like-like me too, then all is forgiven."

It was your turn to strike the thinker's pose, your chin too high and too proud to be doing any serious rumination. You were sure the smile on your face gave you away.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #fic #fluff #event: fluff-vember 2023 #kaija writes #kaija writes: jujutsu kaisen #high school gojou is so fun to write #i think i'm a little in crush with him as i type this hahaha

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