#send me back to when i was 11 running off 10 hours sleep a week bc i stayed up all night roleplaying on fucking amino

[girls4etho]

i need more things to do i cant keep up this getting into bed at 10pm shit. 13 year me would be fucking ashamed

[osaemu]

・𖠗 EMAILS I CAN'T SEND EVENT !

with songs featuring gojo, geto, dazai, chuuya, and childe !

BEFORE YOU LISTEN . . .

careful, there's gonna be some pretty mature themes headin' in . . . sex, cheating, overthinking, y'know, the usual. it's hard being hot !

WHAT'S THE ALBUM ABOUT ?

well, i heard some guys from jujutsu kaisen, bungo stray dogs, and genshin impact are involved in the drama, maybe you know them !

TRACK 9: NONSENSE "baby i'm in too deep, here's a lil' song i wrote, it's about you and me"

꒰ pop star!reader x secret lover!gojo

being a pop star is tough, and maintaining a relationship alongside it is even harder. good thing you have a boyfriend to share the nights with, but what happens when those night-time specials start seeping into your daytime routine?

TRACK 10: FAST TIMES "tiptoeing past so many stages, but what the fuck is patience?"

꒰ coworkers with benefits ft. pm boss!chuuya

being a mafia boss is hard, and the stress that comes with it could kill. so, your boss's solution is to take it out on his pretty little secretary — you. one thing leads to another, and soon it becomes a regular thing. it's okay, it's not like he's gonna fuck you during work hours, right?

TRACK 11: SKINNY DIPPING "if we could take it all off and just exist, and skinny dip in water under the bridge"

꒰ break up –> make up ft. criminal!geto

when you found out he wasn't who he said he was, you dumped him on the spot, and after that you didn't see him for nineteen days. so what happens on the twentieth day when you run into him at your local coffee shop, and how did it end with his dick in your mouth?

TRACK 13: DECODE "you're good at impersonating someone who cares, and you had me for a minute there"

꒰ actor!reader x actor!dazai

your co-star is known for his acting prowess, and maybe he's just a little too good, because even when the lights are down and no cameras in sight, you can never seem to figure out if he means what he says. even when he's drunk in your sheets, every word seems carefully calculated to get something out of you — who knows what he wants?

TRACK 15: FEATHER "your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch, you fit every stereotype, send a pic"

꒰ it girl!reader x fuckboy!gojo

you're everything, and he's just another fuckboy. but even though he's the biggest dickhead you've ever met, you can't deny that he's very, very attractive. so what happens when you have one too many drinks and end up moaning his name all night long?

TRACK 16: LONESOME "did you think about her face with your hands around my waist? did you even give a fuck?"

꒰ exes with benefits ft. fuckboy!childe

you probably shouldn't still sleep with the boy who ruined your life, but hey, he's the only one who knows how to fuck you just right. even if he made you cry for a week straight, you'd rather be crying out his name than wallowing in self-pity at home. and it's not like you're gonna get back together with him, are you?

TRACK 17: THINGS I WISH YOU SAID "i saw you met somebody and i'm jealous as hell, that i can't even stomach loving somebody else"

꒰ cheating ft. ex boyfriend!dazai

maybe it's wrong to cheat on your current boyfriend with your ex, but you never moved on and apparently, neither did he. and shit, he's just as skillful with his words as ever, so just one night wouldn't hurt, right?

SO, WHEN CAN I HEAR THE STORIES ?

well, hannah'll tell you whenever she feels like it, but who knows what order she's whisper them to you in ? it'll be a surprise ~

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN THE STORY'S OUT ?

there's no taglist or anythin', but you can check back here to see if anything's leaked yet ! ++ maybe follow hannah and her tag, 'cause she said she'll post updates there . . . #✧ — emails i can't send

have fun listening! reblogs very appreciated xoxo –> signed, hannah

[nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105]

Warning: Mentions of Death, Violence,Depression, Suicide, Breaking Up, Miscarriage, Self Harm.

BuckyxFem! OFC , Eddie BrockxFem! OFC

Chapter One

Sneak Peek for Part : 2 Chapter 2 Sneak Peak Of Characters Chapter 3 Sneak Peak Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Sneak Peak of Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Sneak Peak Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Sneak Peak Chapter 9 & 10 Chapter 9 part 1 Chapter 9 part 2 Chapter 10 part 1 Chapter 10 part 2 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

This is my first post

A/N-this is my first fanfic I’m currently working on at the moment. Feel free to comment.

This is a short beginning. This is a working progress. Hope everyone enjoys.

The James Buchanan Barnes constantly on the move with work. With his beloved at home waiting for him. When their relationship starts to fall apart Audrey tries to find out why things aren’t working out. With a secret of her own she tries to navigate this life in hiding. The world isn’t ready for her secret. Neither her friends. With a secret enemy hidden in plain sight waiting to strike. Audrey held onto hope that he’ll come home soon. James would be gone for a few days the suddenly it went to weeks. Audrey didn’t want to think that he was planning on leaving her. Audrey has big news for him, that will change their lives.

But will things be the same when he returns.

Audrey awakens to the sound of an alarm. The bright blinding lights strain her eyes. The throbbing pain in her head makes its hard to focus. The alarm suddenly shuts off.

There’s complete silence all around. She closes her eyes to focus her energy on clearing her foggy head. Her body tingled with pain. Unable to move she was in hell. She thought of her life before it all came to this.

Audrey and James Apartment

“James Please you work too much. Please Stay”

“Darling it’s one mission I’ll be home before you say “I Love You”

“When will you be home?”

“Tomorrow Morning for sure my love”

He gathers his belongs and rushes to the door. He didn’t look back to Audrey.

“I Love You…..”

Audrey whispered.

Bucky rushes out from their apartment. Audrey watches him leave. She didn’t tell him she was pregnant. She had been planning a whole day for them. Tears rush down her face as she walks back to their room. She cries herself to sleep thinking of Bucky.

The next morning comes but there’s no Bucky. Hours go by but to no news or a phone call from any of the avengers. She quickly grabs her phone to dial Steve or Sam in hopes they would give her news of the situation.

Steve phone just rings then straight to voicemail. She tries again Voicemail again.

Hopefully with Sam she has luck with him.

On the other line he picks up……..

Theres silence at first then a groggy voice is heard

“Audrey”

“Hello Sam. Sam its me Audrey” she cries tears of joy hearing his voice.

“Yeah I’m here. Sorry I was taking a nap. What’s up”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of Steve, I’m worried about Bucky have you heard from him. He was supposed to be home this morning. I had no luck of getting ahold of him. Was there any complications on the mission.”

“Really. Everyone came back from that mission yesterday evening.”

“what? yesterday evening”

“Is everything okay Audrey”

She pauses before she can say anything. All the possibilities running through her mind she pauses on the thought that Bucky is cheating.

“Audrey, Audrey?!”

“Yes Sam”

“Are you okay? Do you need me to come over.”

“No Sam its all right. I’m gonna step out and get some fresh air”

“Okay,don’t do anything crazy. Hey Audrey if I see Steve or Bucky I’ll send them your way.”

“Please do Sam. Thank you Sam. Bye”

“Bye Audrey”

Nothing had prepared her for this moment. How could he lie to her. Audrey thought to herself that if she told him sooner would it had made a difference in their relationship. Would he had stayed with her.

1 Month Later

In the beginning of her pregnancy. She came to terms that she would be raising her child alone.

The appointments came and went everything was on track as a good healthy pregnancy. But tragedy struck in the early hours of a cold December morning.

“How could this had happened? Why me?”

“There was no stress in my life? I did everything right? A healthy diet the proper amount of nutrients?”

Questions quickly piled onto one another. As she sat on the hospital bed waiting for her doctor to return. Nurses came and gone but lost in her thoughts she couldn’t help to feel responsible for her loss.

As the doctor spoke to her all she could think about was the day James Buchanan Barnes walked out of her life. Was there something she did wrong. Did he not love her anymore.

Audrey was discharged from the hospital a few days later. She went back to their apartment where all the memories reminded her of him.

She looked around the apartment one picture frame after another she took them down. She needed to let him go. There was no point on hold on to the past. He made his decision that day and she needed to let him go.

It hurt so much to box up her belongings. But the pain of losing a child can’t be explained. She kept packing her things up until all that was left was Bucky things lying around.

The moving truck came in a timely manner. The men from the moving truck assisted with bring her belongings down. Together they left to her new apartment far from his place.

She couldn’t bare to see him again. If he returned.

Bucky Pov:

“Steve I can’t do this anymore. I’m not in love with Kayla anymore. She isn’t Audrey. All she wants to do is shop all the time.”

“Buck, don’t do this to Audrey. Just tell her”

“I can’t Steve. How could I face her when I cheated on her. She trusted me and I betrayed her.” “I left a letter for her explaining everything. I just hope she hasn’t found it”

“I got to go back to the apartment Steve.”

1 Month Later

Bucky Pov

I watched a moving truck leave the front of the building. I couldn’t bring myself speak with her face to face. Like a coward I walked around the block, I waited what felt like hours. With the courage I made to come up with I went to our apartment. The smell of her perfume lingered in the air it was intoxicating. But a small envelope laid on the kitchen table.

James

If you’re reading this I’ve left I couldn’t bare another minute here. Was there something I did wrong if so I could have fixed it. Why did you leave? Was the question on my mind everyday. But I have come to terms with reality that you don’t want me a apart of yours. I hold no ill will against you. She must be beautiful and an amazing person. I hope she’s everything you want. Take care of yourself James.

Sincerely yours,

Audrey W.

No words could be put in order as Bucky fell to his knees crying. How could he have messed up everything. Their life together wasn’t perfect but he was madly in love with her when they first met. How could he have thrown her away for a fling.

He had to find Audrey and find a way to fix his mistake.

But where could she have gone. There was no clue in the apartment where she had gone too.

A/N - This has been updated on 5/10

I have added links to the betrayal series. I’m so happy with and I’m currently working on another project. I do hope everyone enjoys reading. Now it’s easier to navigate.

[celestialrry]

stood up

3.5k

hello everyone!!!! I've been awol for literally weeks because i had absolutely NO motivation to write but i finally finished this piece ˊᗜˋ so YAY. ALSOO thank you for following me, liking, and reblogging my pieces (it encourages me somuchsothankyouireallyappreciateit-- and remember reblogging really helps us writers :))) )  here’s a hug for all ur patience and feel free to send me asks or requests i love talking to you guys! ε(♡'-')з

summary: Harry keeps standing Y/N up. (request from @ballerinrry! thank u love)

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and sex, angsty but with a happy ending cause for some reason i can never let them end on a bad note

Y/N was excited.

It had been a while since Harry had asked her to go on a date, it was always the other way around recently. She couldn’t blame him though, Y/N knew just how busy Harry always was, and it wasn’t like he was purposefully not asking her to go do things, he just had a lot on his plate.

That’s what she kept telling herself anyways. 

It’s what she told herself when it had been 2 weeks since they had even eaten a meal together, and given the fact that just a few months ago Harry had come back to London for a while, that was rare. So, Y/N asked him to grab lunch on a Saturday while they were lying in bed together, and when he agreed, but failed to show up, leaving Y/N sitting at the cafe, her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes not focusing on the phone in front of her, she told herself he was simply booked up with meetings and studio time and such. 

Thats what he told her when he got into bed that night to apologize for accidentally standing her up. She forgave him, of course, and suggested they could just get dinner the next week. He agreed, even walked around to his calander her to show her he was marking the date off in his calendar with a heart, her first initial, and 7:00 PM etched into the little box with red sharpie. 

So, the week passed with quick kisses of good mornings and good nights, and while Harry was gone Y/N had on a black dress she had been excited to wear for a while now, with those little mini silver heels and a coat strung over her shoulders as she sat on her couch waiting for Harry to swing by to pick her up. She shot him a text that simply asked “You otw? xx”

He was not.

It took about 30 minutes of waiting on their couch to realize he was standing her up, again. And it took until the next morning for Harry to see her text (his phone had been on do not disturb while he was at the studio and he ended up spending the night at Sarah and Mitch’s after a few beers), and for the guilt to seep through his veins. 

He apologized, again. And Y/N forgave him, again. 

Only until it got to the point where Y/N no longer remembered the amount of times Harry had stood her up, for being at the studio, or sleeping after a meeting, or simply just not paying attention to his phone, she knew there was a problem. 

Harry was fully aware of the problem too. He knew that this was no way to ever treat a partner, and if someone was doing this to him, he’d dump them— well, he’s never been one to end a relationship unless it was necessary, so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

Which is why when he got home one day around 11 PM, gave her a kiss to the forehead after she sat up in their bed to give him a hug, and a soft  “Can we talk?” escaped her lips, he knew he had to fix this. So he asked her if they could talk over dinner the next night, he just wanted to sleep but also wanted to fix things with his girl, asking her if she was free of course, before telling her he’s gonna make a reservation at that nice restaurant the two of them used to go to quite often, because “it’s been a while since I’ve taken my favorite girl out”.

A grin broke out on her face because he had asked her! And if Harry was planning it, there’s no way he’d cancel or stand her up. 

 So yeah, Y/N was excited.

She woke up that morning with a smile on her face, and something akin to a what she thinks a rainbow would feel like running through her veins. It had only been a few months since she’d last been on a date with her boyfriend of almost 2 years and a half in person, and she was going to make the most of it. Because after this date, things would change. They’d spend more time together again and it would be like this little bump (that neither had acknowledged) never happened.

Y/N did, well, everything to prepare. Took a long shower, shaved, put on that coconut lotion Harry likes— he tended to dig his face in her neck when he smelled it while holding her—, brushed her teeth more than 3 times, dug in her closet to find that one patterned soft purple dress she bought ages ago but never had a change to wear it, until now, put on those really cute heels Harry said he liked once (“Looks like something you’d wear on a runway pet, I love ‘em.”), and even styled her hair differently than normal.

He had told her he would swing by at 8 on the dot after the studio, and soon enough, it was 8, with no sign from the man who made the promise himself. Y/N thought maybe there was traffic, he was just running late, texted him a quick, “Can’t wait to see you!! xxx” and put her phone on the coffee table, waiting on their couch. 

8 turned to 9, 9 turned to 10, 10 turned to 11, and soon it was midnight. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt more empty than how she felt then, walking to their shared room of a year, slipping off her heels and tossing them towards the closet, as well as pulling her dress over herself and letting it fall to the floor behind her, grabbing that one t-shirt she always wears when she needs comfort (which just happened to an extra 2018 Live on Tour shirt Harry had laying around that she snatched just 3 months into them dating), and flopping into bed.  

She couldn’t fall asleep, and instead spent her time curled up in their bedsheets, a steady flow of tears making their way down her blush covered cheeks.

。:°ஐ

Harry usually didn’t make mistakes.

Sure, he had his moments, grabbing the wrong coffee off the counter when his name was called at the cafe, forgetting to text Jeff that he actually couldn’t make it to a meeting that was scheduled in a few hours. Just little things, things that didn’t matter that much, and could always be fixed. He didn’t usually make mistakes that weren’t easy to fix. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Until, he was.

Harry loved Y/N. He loved having her around, loved spending time with her, loved loving on her, loved kissing her, loved touching her, loved the way she went about almost everything. He was so in love with her, that hurting her was out of the question. He never wanted to be the one to make her cry, make her bottom lip quiver before the tears rushed out like he’d seen many times before, due to movies, his songs (which as sadistic as it sounds was an ego builder to have someone so close to him so affected by the music he wrote), her school work, or even her friends that weren’t being so nice.

In fact, he was so in love with her, even being so afraid of commitment (it took him over a year of them dating to ask her to move in), all he wanted to do was blurt out those 4 dreaded words. “Will you marry me?” It was a bond for life, and he was terrified of that, but with Y/N all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his living days with her.

When Harry had come back from being in L.A. for so long and finally being in the same city as his girlfriend back at their home, all they did was spend time together. Every time he saw Y/N all he wanted to do was say those 4 words that he hadn’t even fully come to terms with himself. It was dangerous, and Harry’s self control when it came to Y/N was lacking, so he simply did was every normal person would do in his situation.

He stood her up. 

Many more times than he could count, and of course he felt like the shittiest person in the world— shittiest boyfriend in the world—but at least now she can’t possibly be under the impression that he wanted to marry her, which is what he wanted. Or thought he wanted, until Sarah called him up one day after he had stood Y/N up for dinner the night before and told him off. Told Harry just how fucking terrible he made Y/N feel, how unwanted she thought she was, how she felt like they were loosing their relationship, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. (Of course Y/N had sobbed to Sarah about it over the phone while she was drunk off the wine she opened 40 minutes after Harry said he would be there, so she really didn’t even remember the conversation).

And later that day Harry had come home, heard her wavering voice asking if they could talk, and decided in his head he would tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, and how he wanted to be with her forever and love her forever if she allowed him. He had a few expectations for their dinner, that Y/N would probably tell him how he’s made her feel, and Harry would apologize, tell her why he did it, explain he thought it was no excuse, then tell her he plans on marrying her (obviously not proposing just yet, but finally bringing up the conversation they had never had even though they were in a serious committed relationship) and they’d go back home, have the most amazing sex ever, and forget about the whole thing. 

What Harry didn’t expect was to get a call from Jeff around 5 asking him to come to the studio to fix few vocals, then end up nailing down 2 songs in one night, go to a bar with the band to celebrate, get drunk, then pass out at Mitch and Sarahs flat. 

But that’s what happened, according to Mitch, who woke Harry up the very next morning. 

“Good morning man, wakey wakey,” Mitch’s teasing tone echoed through Harry’s (what felt like full of vodka) brain as he groaned and squinted his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at this hour in the morning?” Harry asked drearily, sighing and simultaneously regretting last night as a whole because the last thing he wanted to do while hungover was be up before at least 9 AM.

“We’ve gotta go to meet with Jeff about tour in like a hour, H” Mitch stated .

At Mitch’s words Harry sat up on their couch, eyes wide in fear. “Wait mate, I thought tha’ meeting was on Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday H, god how drunk did we let you get last night…” Mitch said, beginning to recount some of Harry’s antics the night before. Harry however, couldn’t hear a thing with the blood pumping through his ears. If today was Wednesday, that meant yesterday was Tuesday, and he went and got trashed at a bar with his friends Tuesday night when— when he was supposed to be on a date with Y/N, when he was supposed to confess his intentions, when he was supposed to apologize for standing her up over and over, yet instead he went and did it again.

Now this, this was a mistake.

“…H. H. Harry? Are you there?” Mitch’s voice came back into focus and Harry shook his head. “I- fuck, I was supposed to take Y/N out last night.” Harry said, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you, it’s just one night.” Mitch tried to make Harry feel better. He knew Y/N was a very forgiving person, she would get over this in no time.

“No, she won’t. I-I’ve stood her up for the past month and a half, Mitch.”

At these words, Mitch stands straight up  making pained eye contact with Sarah in the kitchen who was overhearing most of this conversation with her eyes wide. She had no idea it was this bad. “Month and a half? I thought it was just that one time a few weeks ago, Harry what the hell is wrong with you?” Harry simply shook his head and didn’t reply. He had absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. “I-fuck, I don’t know Mitch!” Harry raised his voice. “I need to see her and apologize, now.” Harry said, standing up and rushing over to the front door and slipping on his shoes. 

“This meeting is mandatory Harry, as much as I want you to see her too, she’d probably still asleep, and I don’t think this can be solved in under an hour.” Mitch said calmly, already knowing Harry was close to walking out his door. Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing the options. Either go apologize to his girlfriend, or prioritize himself over her again. 

“We can do it another day, I’m sorry, but I have to go see her, tell Jeff I feel sick.” And he walked out without another word.

。:°ஐ

The morning after Harry stood Y/N up again was brutal. 

She stayed up all night, replaying moments with Harry in her head, analyzing if he wanted to be there with her, wondering if maybe he felt like he had to stay with her out of pity. It was torture, and the pain seemed to turn into numbness as time went by, and eventually the sun came up, and she stayed in bed, her motivation lost.

A loud crash and “Fuck!” woke her up, swollen eyes fluttering open to the invasive noise. Y/N furrowed her brows, her mind connecting everything that happened yesterday and unfortunately reminding her of the unbearable pain she went through the night before. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up and flung her legs out of her bed sheets that had been flung off the bed in the middle of the night.  She began grumbling to herself as she made her way downstairs, ready to tell Harry off for making so much noise.

Her mouth stopped moving, and instead remained in limbo as her eyes met Harry’s. His mouth opened to speak, but his words were caught in his throat as he saw the state she was in. It was when her mouth pressed into a line that he could begin talking. “Y/N, baby, please I know you don’t wanna see me or talk t’me right now but I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. So so sorry, it was an accident, I went t’ the studio to fix a few things then got hung up on the songs and by the time we went to celebrate I completely lost track of time, and I was too drunk to drive home so I crashed at Mitch’s.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. Everything was happening too fast. Hearing that he stood her up to drink at a fucking bar to celebrate himself, then coming home and accidentally knocking over a glass in their kitchen (which she put together was the crash earlier after seeing the shards of broken glass on the floor) frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him any longer, and Harry had stopped talking after realizing what he just admitted to her. Without another glance, instead of looking at Y/N’s tear stained face, all he saw was her back, walking up the stairs to their room. 

“Fuck,” He said to himself before following her up the pink stairs. “Y/N, love wait-please, I’m so sorry, I just need to talk to you, I need to explain myself, please.” He begged as she shut their bedroom door in his face, his voice turning into a desperate whine at the end. 

。:°ஐ

It’s been 3 days since then, and she hasn’t spoken to him. He would leave in the mornings, kissing her forehead and mumbling an “I love you” and telling her exactly what time he’d be home, before leaving and coming back on time to find an empty plate in the sink and her lying in their bed, whether it be reading, scrolling on her phone, or typing on her laptop. He would apologize many times, reaching his hand out for hers and she would simply situate herself in their bed and lay down, back turned to him. 

Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. 

It was when she had finally let him kiss her forehead goodnight that he decided to take his chance. “Y/N.” He spoke softly, with no response or anything to indicate she heard him. “Baby, can we please talk- or I’ll talk and you listen, I just- I really need to say some things.” 

She was still faced away from him when he leaned against their headboard and he decided to keep going. 

“I- um. I’m sure you know how sorry I am, but I really am- sorry I mean. Not just for tonight but for every other time I’ve stood you up. I’m so sorry for not showing you how much you matter to me, and how much the things you do matter to me.”

It was then that she slowly sat up next to him and looked at him, eyes begging him to continue. He blushed at her intense eye-contact that he had barely gotten over the past few days and took a breath, opting to look at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“We’ve been together for 2 and almost a half years, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and it’s no excuse to treat you this way, but I had just been thinking about how things progress even further than now,” He coughs. “Which is marriage, and when I finally came home, all I wanted to do was ask you to marry me- I don’t- m’not proposing right now, I just- I got really scared because wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone is crazy to me,

I’ve never thought that way about anyone else until you, I didn’t even really want to get married before you, and I started to distance myself before I ended up telling you this, but obviously that blew up in my face.” He chuckled a bit, locking eyes with her unreadable ones for a moment and lifting a hand to run through his hair. “What I’m trying to say, is that I love you, so so much, and I plan on marrying you— obviously if you want to too, of course— and I’m so sorry for trying to make you think that I didn’t care about you anymore or love you any less, because it’s the complete opposite of that.”

His eyes were watery now, as he started down at his interlocked fingers, and his eyes widened when her hand was gently placed over his own. “Harry,” Y/N began. “Look at me, please.” 

His head lifted to see her facing him, her brows knitted and a small smile on her face. “I forgive you, okay? I could tell you were kind of scared of commitment when we first started dating, and I wish I could say your reason for standing me up is surprising but it’s not.” They both chuckled a bit at this. “I- I’m still upset at you, I need you to know that, because 2 months of thinking the love of your life is avoiding you doesn’t feel all too great, so you suck for that,” she said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek which quickly turned pink. “But Harry, even if you asked me to marry you a year ago I would have said yes. I love you, so much, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you as well. I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment, it was… unnecessary and immature. So, thank you for apologizing. I love you.” She confessed again.

“S’okay, I deserved it, and I love you too. Maybe even more. So um, we’re okay?” Harry asked, a hopeful smile on his face. 

She nodded with a smile and pulled him into a much needed hug and pulled away only for him to bring her into an even more needed kiss. “If you ever try to pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you.” She laughed and he tackled her into the sheets hiding his face in her neck.

“Duly noted, love. Duly noted.”

[bitchassbucky]

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist

CTRL moodboard

4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

[atzsslut]

requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.

chosen prompt(s) : 

#1 - “Is that my sweater?”

#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader

genre : fluff 

warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn 

word count : 2.4k words

You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago. 

The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.  

Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now. 

As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan. 

Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages. 

chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]

chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]

chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]

Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets. 

Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;

“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”

“Oh, did you just wake up?”

“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”

“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”

“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”

“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”

The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.

Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit. 

Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer. 

You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable. 

And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker. 

Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet. 

It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug. 

“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”

“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist. 

And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car. 

You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”  

He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body. 

You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off. 

“Is that my sweater?”

And the realization hit you. 

A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul. 

You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in. 

In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”

However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned. 

“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”

“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented. 

In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you. 

“M’lady.” he offered, 

“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.” 

“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that. 

“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard. 

Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s. 

As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now. 

“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already. 

Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big,  bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you. 

You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.

Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside. 

The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc. 

And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’ 

But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you. 

You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact. 

“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”

He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you. 

You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home. 

Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together. 

We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up. 

But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint. 

And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,

“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point. 

The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground. 

He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest. 

It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point. 

He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning, 

“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”

Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion. 

“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?” 

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.

But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?

Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together? 

But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen. 

Until now. 

Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense. 

So, you took a small step forward. 

It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask, 

“Who’s stopping you from asking?” 

[fruitydiaz-archived]

my darkest nights

A post 5.01 sort of speculation fic

Eddie makes it back home after the shift from hell and is grateful that he escaped Buck's persistent questioning - until a nightmare wakes him up and Buck shows up at his front door anyways. Because of course he does.

2,877 words

AO3 link

Eddie’s never been more grateful to be so exhausted after a shift. He’s never found himself standing in the locker room, staring at the slope of Buck’s slumped shoulders, the weight of his head pulling him down, and feeling grateful for it. He slips out of the locker rooms and to his truck without anyone noticing—everyone worn too close to the bone to focus on anything other than stripping off their uniforms and leaving for their respective homes.

What was supposed to be a 12-hour shift had turned into a 24-hour shift that dragged on, the ransomware attack sending first responders all over the city, wild goose chase after wild goose chase after literal wild goose chase. All the while Buck’s eyes rarely left Eddie. Normally, Eddie felt comforted by Buck’s constant presence, the way his eyes never strayed too far from him, especially when he found himself retreating into his head too much on calls.

But ever since the hospital—ever since running into Dr. Salazar—Buck’s eyes on him weren’t gentle and reassuring, equal parts check in with me and I’m checking in with you. They were worried and persistent and they made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up.

By the time the power had been restored and the team had been cut loose, even Buck was too tired to chase Eddie down.

For the most part, Eddie is grateful, as he pulls into his driveway at 9 am, walking into his house and finding it quiet and empty. He’s thankful that he decided to leave Christopher with Pepa the day before, not knowing that his half shift would turn into a full shift from hell. For a moment he considers stopping in the kitchen to clear out the fridge of all the food that was definitely spoiled during the city-wide blackout, but his body screams for his bed and he listens.

He’s grateful when he pulls the curtains shut, switches off all the lights, and slips under the covers.

He’s grateful. Until the darkness settles around him again, until the sheets wrap themselves too tight around his body, until his eyes fly open and he finds himself searching frantically through the dark for a pair of wide, equally startled blue eyes.

He’s grateful until he realizes that he’s alone.

It’s not a panic attack that wakes him up—because Eddie doesn’t panic—but it takes him 10 minutes to get his heart rate back down. This sleep pattern is becoming painfully familiar to him, like finding an old t-shirt in the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn in 5 or so years, the material tight and constricting around his shoulders and chest. It’s 11:45 in the morning and he knows that trying to fall back asleep is useless, so he takes a quick shower and decides to clean out the fridge anyways.

When there’s a knock on his front door 30 minutes later, Eddie thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he still is when he pulls open the door and finds Buck standing in front of him, curls fresh and wet against his forehead, the circles under his eyes no less prominent than they were three hours ago. The spike of annoyance is almost immediate because Eddie knows that Buck got just about as much sleep as he did—if not less—and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Buck,” He starts to say, ready to wave him off again, turn him around on his porch and shove him back towards his jeep.

“I—is Christopher here?” Buck cuts him off, eyes darting over his shoulder. Eddie presses his lips together and shakes his head gently.

“He’s with Pepa,” He starts again but this time it’s Buck’s body that cuts him off, shoving his shoulder between Eddie and the doorway, pushing his way into Eddie’s house before he’s even had the opportunity to protest.

“What the hell is going on, Eddie?” Buck’s long legs make easy work of the distance between Eddie’s doorway to his kitchen and Eddie follows right on his heels, helpless and frustrated.

“Nothing’s going on, Buck. I told you to drop it.”

“Well I can’t, Eddie,” Buck says emphatically, spinning around and leaning back against Eddie’s counter. He pauses for a moment, wide eyes searching Eddie’s face before they drop to the floor. His fingers fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt and Eddie’s struck by how small he looks, shoulders hunched, bent inward.

He knows Buck pushes because he cares. Hell, if it were the other way around and Eddie had found out Buck had been to see a cardiologist and didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have ever let them leave the hospital without finding out why. But Buck can’t know about this—whatever it is. Because Buck won’t drop it even after he finds out and all Eddie wants to do is move forward. He doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

“It wasn’t anything serious, Buck,” He tries again, but the way Buck stares back at him makes him feel like his body’s made of glass.

“Because if it was you would tell me?”

Eddie swallows. He holds Buck’s gaze and nods, a jerky aborted movement, before averting his eyes.

“Good, because four months ago you got shot.” Eddie ignores the way his entire body tenses as Buck continues. “And then you sat in the hospital room and told me that if anything ever happened to you I would be Christopher’s legal guardian.”

He doesn’t say anything and when he looks up again Buck has taken a step closer. He hovers over Eddie slightly, eyes soft and imploring.

“If something happens to you, I need to know. I want to know.”

“It was—it wasn’t a heart attack,” Eddie says quietly.

“But you thought it was.”

“The doctor said…they think it was a panic attack.” Eddie’s stomach twists at the gentle recognition that crosses Buck’s face. He’s not surprised in the slightest. Eddie can picture him easily, back at his loft, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, searching google for an explanation as to why Eddie would think he was having a heart attack if he wasn’t.

Realistically, Buck probably knew what was up while they were still in the hospital. But if Eddie can just pretend for a little longer—

“You don’t agree with them,” Buck says eventually and Eddie feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

“I don’t panic,” He says as a reflex, the words familiar, having taken up residency on the tip of his tongue over the last couple of days. But the moment they’re out in the air, the moment he says them to Buck, he knows he’s lost the battle.

“Everybody panics.”

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you got shot—”

“Why does everyone want to talk about that?” Eddie can’t keep the frustration from bleeding out into his words, not even through his gritted teeth. “I lived. I lived and he...he’s dead. I’ve moved on, why can’t everyone else?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and frantic as he looks at Buck, pleading, and for a second Buck gets a glimpse at Eddie as a child. He gets a glimpse at Eddie before he closed himself off, before he was taught to build up walls around his heart, before he learned to shove every emotion down further and further until the only thing left was his ability to move forward. Before he learned how to control.

He reaches his hand out, settling it firmly on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb skipping over the pulse point in his neck.

“Eddie, it happened. Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I—I watched you almost die, Eds.”

“But I didn’t,” Eddie repeats, voice small.

“And I’m really fucking glad you didn’t,” Buck agrees on an exhale. “I get that you want to move on but until you actually talk about what happened, you’re not going to be able to.”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching Eddie’s face. Eddie stares back at him and eventually, Buck sucks in his bottom lip and drops his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. He steps back against the counter, looking down at his hands.

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen things that most people don’t even think to worry about. It all adds up, you know?”

“But I’m used to it—it’s not the first time I’ve almost died,” Eddie says and Buck does his best not to flinch, the way he always does when Eddie casually mentions his own mortality, the number of times he’s stared death in the face only to turn his back on it and fight in the opposite direction. He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, turning and slowly making his way towards Eddie’s kitchen table.

“You know, I still talk to Dr. Copeland about what happened that day, sometimes,” Buck pulls out a chair and slowly sinks down into it, his joints cracking as he does. He looks up at Eddie, who feels frozen in place, struck by the realization that it’s been four months and this is the first time Buck has ever actually mentioned the shooting, the first time he’s ever talked about it as something that happened to him too.

“For weeks I couldn’t look in the mirror because I—I would remember standing in the hospital bathroom after they took you in and seeing…your blood everywhere.”

Buck’s words settle in the pit of Eddie’s stomach like a rock. He wants to say something gentle and encouraging, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself, and all he can do is stare back at Buck.

“Some nights I still have nightmares where I wake up and I can feel your blood on my hands. Or—or sometimes I wake up and in my dream…we never made it to the hospital. Or I’m frozen and I watch you die in the street. And it takes everything in me not to call you and make sure you’re alright. That you’re still alive.”

Eddie eventually makes his way to the chair opposite Buck, sliding into it with robotic, stilted movements that feel like they’re made by someone other than himself.

“I didn’t know,” He says quietly, and Buck regards him with a face full of guilt and pain.

“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But…maybe I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry,” Buck says and Eddie’s face twists.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Buck.”

“The point is, no matter how much time has passed, I still think about that day. And I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

Eddie’s jaw works and lets his eyes fall to the table, trying to find something else to focus on, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. He traces the surface, noting all of the different dings and marks in the wood, the water stains from years of use, from years of living. He doesn’t remember the story behind each mark—some of them weren’t even made by him (or Christopher, or Buck, or anyone else they know). The table was a late-night purchase off of Facebook one of the first nights Eddie spent alone in their house. He remembers feeling a great sense of pride when he made the purchase like he was finally moving forward, achieving something for himself and for Christopher, doing the right thing. And then he remembers the deep sense of dread and loneliness that washed over him immediately after. A table was something he and Chris needed, but Eddie wasn’t used to furniture shopping alone. He couldn’t help but think about how Shannon would’ve hated the table he chose—and she told him as much when she eventually saw it.

He remembers Shannon and the way she had suddenly fallen back into his life, like a rare kind of meteor, a once in a lifetime kind of thing, crashing through the sky, fiery and fierce, ripping through the ozone layer and leaving a crater in its wake. That’s how he felt when Shannon died—torn and empty.

That’s how he felt in the months after the shooting, too. Even as he fought to get up each morning, fought to go to physical therapy, fought through his mandated counseling sessions, fought to regain mobility so he could get some sense of independence back, so that he didn’t feel so useless in his own home.

None of it cured the emptiness. Not even when he reached his hand out some nights and felt the warmth of Ana’s body next to him. Not even when she held him in her arms, ran her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t feel anything.

Or—maybe that’s not true. Maybe he does feel something, something he’s just been ignoring—an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. An uneasiness that spreads, slow and quiet until suddenly it’s taken over his whole body—panic.

He does his best to ignore it but nothing soothes it—and maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. Trying to soothe the ache, the fear. Reaching for the things he thought would bring him comfort, would help him move on. And acknowledging this pain and panic means that it’s not working. None of it’s working. Not this, ignore it and move on mentality, not this relationship with Ana. Because it’s all connected, isn’t it?

Three days before Eddie got shot in the street, Carla reached across the table and took his hand, and told him to be sure he was following his heart. Three days later he was bleeding out on the street, eyes locked with Buck’s, the two moments twisted and tied together in his history, a knot so tight Eddie didn’t think he could ever untie them.

Looking back up at Buck, Eddie remembers the dream he woke up from earlier. The dream itself isn’t important—it was just one in an endless sea of scenarios that have blended together into one long continuous nightmare; an empty street, a shot in the air, fire, blood, screaming, mud, water, gasping for air—but Eddie remembers what he was searching for when he woke up.

Blue eyes, equally startled.

“I don’t,” Eddie says suddenly, his voice surprising him. He pauses, looks back down at his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Buck asks quietly. His hands slide across the table and hesitate just for a moment before they cover Eddie’s own. The relief is almost instant—not total but enough.

“Ask for help,” Eddie responds. Buck squeezes his hands and he looks back up at him. He swallows, hard, at the sight of Buck’s wide, pale blue eyes staring back at him. Eddie could get lost in them. Eddie wants to get lost in them. He thinks he could be safe there.

“You just did.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s crying. It takes him even longer to realize this is the first time he’s ever cried in front of Buck. But after everything they’ve gone through, after this whole conversation, he can’t find it in him to feel ashamed of it. Especially not when Buck’s looking at him with nothing but sincerity and honesty in his eyes. And it hits him then that Buck loves him.

Eddie thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be loved in your entirety. He’s not sure he’s ever felt anything like it before. He doesn’t have time just yet to unpack the way it feels to have Buck look at him like that, to feel like he’s been cracked down the middle and opened up to reveal every ugly vulnerability and be met with nothing but love.

But it feels right. It feels like a step forward. A step in the right direction.

Eventually, he’ll have to go back to therapy. He’ll have to unpack the events from that day, the anger he never let himself feel, the fear that his life was about to be cut short, the regret he felt staring across the 20 feet of asphalt at Buck, covered in his blood.

He’ll have to talk to Christopher because he knows his son is too attentive for his own good, and if his trip to the hospital taught him anything (and it taught him a lot) it was that Christopher had no intention of playing along with this charade Eddie had going, and he saw right through it.

He’ll have to talk to Ana. He’ll have to confront the fact that when he searches for comfort in the middle of the night, in the midst of his panic, he doesn’t find it in the shape of her body, but in the image of Buck.

One day, he’ll have to face those feelings head-on. He’ll have to untangle this web of repression and fear, the threads of which had been spun so long before Eddie was ever aware that they’re practically embedded in his DNA.

But for now, he finds peace in his kitchen, his hands in Buck’s, blue eyes on his.

And he feels safe here. If only for the moment.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[foreteller-ava]

Fallen Star: Chapter 9

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AO3 | FFN

Summary: The Clone Wars have raged on for three years. With Dooku dead, the war’s end is finally within reach, and peace may come to the galaxy.

For Jedi Knight Padmé Amidala, Senator Anakin Skywalker, and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, the world seems to have too many other plans to let it.

[Or, a Revenge of the Sith Roleswap AU]

Chapter Summary: Obi-Wan leaves for Utapau, leaving Anakin and Padme to fend for themselves as things begin to fall apart.

A/N: Man I rushed to get this up on AO3 earlier. XD Anyways there's a 95% chance of no update next week. I'll be crazy busy my next weekend so the point that I won't be home until after the dead zone for AO3. There is a 5% chance I might find some time on Wednesday though, just like...don't get those hopes up.

Ah well, at least I picked a fun chapter to leave you guys on. :p

It had taken only hours after learning of Grievous’s location for the council meeting to come together. Padmé had called them for an emergency, and no matter what the time, they were to come. While Palpatine’s warnings remained on her mind, she tried to ignore them, instead focusing exclusively on the positives. They had to be fake, she just needed to remind herself of that.

“Knight Naberrie.” As Mace addressed her, the title one she normally wore with pride now leaving her filled with a bitterness she quickly swallowed. She had to really find time to meditate. Lack of sleep and everything else was pushing her to have difficulty processing her emotions already and this was not helping. “You said the Chancellor had information for us?”

“Yes Master Windu.” She nodded. “Some of the Chancellor’s spies have found General Grievous’s location. He is currently in the Utapau system.”

There was silence for a moment, before Yoda spoke up. “Though found the general may be. Cautious we must remain, a trap this could be.”

It was possible that General Grievous being found might have been a purposeful move on the cyborg’s part, but Padmé found that unlikely. Why reveal himself now? It may have been a few weeks since his loss on the Invisible Hand, but that meant little in regards to the Separatist fleet rebuilding. Reports on the front had indicated that the Separatists forces were finally running out. Before she could bring it up to the council, however, the conversation had already changed.

“Even if that is the case, we cannot ignore that he’s there.” Obi-Wan put his hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. “It just means that we will have to send somebody cautious.”

“Did the Chancellor have anybody in mind when he requested the mission?” Mace’s question caught her off guard. The tensions between Palpatine and the Jedi Council were high, so it felt odd that he would ask now. Perhaps it was an olive branch, or an attempt to get a feel for who the Palpatine trusted.

Still, Padmé swallowed and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. He mentioned he would have liked to have asked me, but I think as we’ve all agreed…” Her voice trailed off. “Well, I’m not in the best condition to be fighting any more intense battles like the one against Grievous until the baby’s been delivered.”

“Correct you are.” Yoda frowned. “Somebody wise we must consider. Master Kenobi, we shall send.”

A spike of fear flooded Padmé. She remembered a while back that Obi-Wan had been selected to fight against Grievous, but she hadn’t thought they’d actually send him. She needed him. He’d been the only one who’d been able to even vaguely get her into a meditative state and he was helping her with the visions. “Master Yoda, surely there must be somebody better for the job?”

“Are you implying that your master isn’t good enough, Knight Naberrie?” Mace asked, an eyebrow raised.

Padmé shook her head. “No, nothing like that at all. I just…”

How could she admit to needing him without coming off as too attached, or revealing just how much things had gone awry to people who she barely trusted herself. “Obi-Wan and I are a team. I don’t like the idea of him going out without his partner.”

There was a moment of consideration among the council as they thought over Padmé’s argument. “Agree we do that you and Master Kenobi work best together. Needed to be together, however, you are not.” With Yoda’s words, it seemed as though the decision was decided. “Of the Jedi we can spare, the only one who can take on Grievous alone, Obi-Wan is.”

The look Obi-Wan gave her implied a conversation he would want to have later, and she definitely wanted to talk to him as well. She could wait a few more minutes to have it. “Your point’s been made. I concede.”

And with Padmé’s reluctant consent given one by one the rest of the council agreed to the same choice. Obi-Wan was the best choice, he would be the one to go to Utapau to confront General Grievous.

“Very well, I accept this mission.” There was a hint of reluctance in Obi-Wan’s voice that made Padmé feel slightly better, as though he didn’t want to leave her either.

“If that is all, then I’ll call this council meeting to a close.” Mace stood up. “May the Force be with you.” And with that, he left, causing the Jedi still here to leave and those calling from other planets to close communications for now.

Obi-Wan’s mission was set.

Padmé could only hope it would go okay.

-x-

It had taken Obi-Wan a few hours to get himself together, and so it had taken a few hours before he could find the time to talk to his former Padawan. He’d checked in with Ahsoka one final time before going to Utapau (and she’d given him rather concerning news about the battle against Maul and his thoughts on Padmé) and had a few other things to take care of, but now here he was, time to face her as she sat on a bench near the hanger room, looking positively miserable.

If he was honest, seeing her so defeated was terrifying, but she’d had so much to risk losing. He sat down on the bench next to her. “I apologize for keeping you waiting so long.” Padmé bolted up immediately, her eyes wide and startled.

“Master. I…” She looked like she’d wanted to give him a reassuring smile, but instead almost seemed like she didn’t have the energy. She just looked so drained and tired that it came out as a half smile instead. “Please...don’t go to Utapau. They can find somebody else. Anybody else.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “It has to be me, the council decided.”

“What if you don’t come back?” Padmé asked, and Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment before deciding to allow his Padawan to continue. “I’m scared. I’m scared of everything and I don’t know what I’d do if I lose him, lose them.” It was, perhaps, the closest Padmé would ever get to acknowledging to him just how close she and Anakin really were. “I keep thinking I would do anything to keep them safe, no matter what it took and I...Obi-Wan I’m scared of what I’ll do to keep my child from being hurt, to keep my...to keep Anakin alive.”

Perhaps, if he were braver, he might have told Padmé of Ahsoka’s warning, given her time to process that Maul thinks she’s somehow significant and that perhaps, she should get off planet and run away from all of this until her children were born and she’d found some form of safety with Anakin. He also knew that Padmé’s sense of duty would never let her perform those very self-serving actions, and there was a risk that even this knowledge could push Padmé over the edge she was so precariously on and into a place that would destroy her. “No matter what, you would never go too far. It’s not in your nature. You’re a Jedi, Padmé, you must remember that.”

“I shouldn’t be.” Normally, he would protest, but in this case, Obi-Wan was inclined to agree. Had Padmé not been a Jedi, this could have been a happy occasion for her, and there would be less threat to her children and lover. Then again, had she not been a Jedi, then Anakin would have been, and perhaps the only thing different was which half of the couple he would be comforting. “I broke the code, I’ve killed so many, and I…” Her voice fell quiet. Whatever she was about to say had been lost to her thoughts.

“Come now Padmé, you aren’t perfect, but none of us are.” He stood up, and offered her a hand, which she reluctantly took as she stood. “Padmé, you are a wonderful Jedi, and I could not be more proud of who you have become, but if you decide that after the child comes you would rather be a mother, I would be just as proud.”

Padmé pulled him in for another hug, almost as though she couldn’t believe that he would be. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

“Is there something else?” Despite the fact that for a moment she seemed infinitely more calm, he could still sense an unfamiliar tenseness in the Force surrounding her.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” The honest answer surprised him. “I’d feel better having anybody else I could trust here with me to help keep them safe.”

“Padmé, your child and Anakin will be fine. I doubt I’ll be on Utapau for long, it’s probably a false alarm anyways.” It was a lie, but one he felt might be the only thing to keep Padmé calm. “If I return after the baby is born, I expect to meet my next Padawan, and if I arrive before, then I’ll do everything I can to help you solve the mystery of this nightmare. We will not let your dreams come to pass.” With Grievous out of the way, perhaps Sidious would finally need to emerge from the shadows, the final enemy they would have. With the Sith gone, there would be no more threats to Anakin’s life, nobody looking to kidnap Force sensitive children, and Padmé could live her happy life she so desired. “I would expect you to have a little faith, we’ve fought worse together before.”

Padmé stayed silent for a short amount of time, but when she did finally speak, she gave him a genuine smile. “I know.” Though Obi-Wan was unsure which instance she was thinking of at that moment, it wasn’t hard to come up with anything the four of them had been through together.

“Sir.” Behind the two Jedi was Cody. It seemed as though the time for conversation had passed. “Are you ready to leave?”

“I will be in a moment.” With that, the clone nodded and left, leaving the two of them alone. “No matter what happens Padmé, know that I will never stop looking out for you and Anakin, and I will never stop being proud of the fine young woman you have become.”

Padmé smiled, and nodded. “I know.”

Obi-Wan turned away and started towards the hanger, but stopped as he heard his Padawan call his name. “May the Force be with you.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “And with you, my friend.”

As he left the Coruscanti atmosphere only a short while later, Obi-Wan couldn’t ignore the feeling he had that their conversation was a final goodbye.

-x-

“I understand your reservations completely, Senator. And I assure you the appointment of governors will in no way interfere with the duties of the Senate.” Though the Chancellor’s words said he was listening to Anakin’s and the rest of the Delegation’s fears, it felt unlikely that Palpatine actually was given how dismissive his tone was, and how readily he dismissed the rest of their concerns ranging from his interference with the Jedi to his long overdue stay in power.

Anakin shook his head. “But you won’t stop changing things, or taking away our power, or putting your nose in where it doesn’t belong.” He could feel the reproachful glares for the other senators present, but they had invited him. Anybody who knew Anakin knew he wouldn’t back down from a confrontation if he felt one was truly warranted.

“I want this terrible conflict to end, just as much as you do. When it does, I expect an immediate return to democracy.” Anakin didn’t need any of his skills in the Force to know that at best, that that was stretching the truth. Or maybe it was just his distrust of the man coloring his judgement. Regardless, the promise rang false.

“So you’re going to end this war then? Because the way I see it, you’re the only one who’s benefited from–”

“Senator Skywalker.” Anakin closed his mouth at Bail’s reproach. Insulting Palpatine wouldn’t get him anywhere, except maybe thrown out of the office. (Although at least that point seemed unlikely, Padmé was the guard serving on duty at the moment if her position behind Palpatine’s desk was anything to go by.) “I apologize, Chancellor. What Anakin means to say is he wishes to ask if you wish to pursue a diplomatic solution to the end of this war.”

“You must trust me to do the right thing. That is why I am here.”

It was a dismissal if Anakin had ever heard one, and for a moment, he saw red. “You can’t really think–”

“I said I’ll do what is right. That should be enough for your committee.” The disdain in Palpatine’s voice was clear as day. He didn’t care what the delegation thought. He didn’t care about right or wrong, or democracy, or any of it. All he cared about was his power.

Yes despite all that, in all of it, it wasn’t the Chancellor’s blatantly careless attitude that had Anakin bothered. He’d expected that, and it was why he’d been pushing for the start of their own rebellion from an unjust government.

What bothered him more than anything else was his wife. He remembered back in the early days of their marriage when he and Padmé had intense political debates on the finer points of their views. While in most cases they agreed, her sharp mine and strong sense oftentimes helped Anakin along and shaped some of his stronger arguments to take to the Senate. In a situation like this, he knew her, he knew she’d speak up. She’d be with him, defending democracy to Palpatine and demanding for more reproach.

Yet instead, it almost felt like she was disconnected from the situation. Like she didn’t care about the political debate going on around her, or worse, that she agreed with Palpatine’s handling of everything, or didn’t see what was wrong with his handling of their concerns, at least.

As he stared at her behind Palpatine, with her dull, brown eyes looking back, Anakin couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing against him.

-x-

It was clear Anakin didn’t have any more patience for Palpatine, as in that moment, he stood up from his chair, giving a glare at Palpatine. “On behalf of the Delegation of 2000, I would like to thank you for your kriffing time.” The use of the curse made it clear, even to those who may not have known him, that Anakin was done respecting the Chancellor.

Though Padmé couldn’t say she was surprised by his actions, she was bothered by them. Almost as though just by doing so it felt like the two of them were on opposite sides. She didn’t react, instead just standing still, observing and guarding the Chancellor.

Palpatine smiled. “I thank you, Senator, for bringing this to my attention.” It was a clear dismissal, and yet while the rest of the senators started to leave, Anakin hesitated for a moment, looking at her, and she found herself averting her gaze. She felt as though she had betrayed his trust somehow, and his look made her feel uncomfortable.

“General Naberrie, would you mind coming with me for a moment?” She winced at his cold tone and as a false contraction hit her body (something she’d ignored for now, she’d been feeling them since Obi-Wan had left but it was definitely too early for the baby to be coming now.) Even down to the name, he knew it would get under her skin.

Padmé turned to Palpatine, who nodded. “I believe you should be resting, my dear. I’ve probably kept you here for far too long given your condition.”

“Good night then, Chancellor.” She followed Anakin out, attempting to feel anything off of him than the anger and embarrassment from his meeting with the Chancellor.

When they were out of earshot of the Chancellor’s office, Anakin finally turned to face her. “Why the hell were you standing with Palpatine?”

There was an anger in his tone, like he couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “Excuse me?”

“You have to know that what he’s saying and how he’s acting are wrong.” Anakin crossed his arms. He was definitely upset. “You’re smarter than this, you know he was dismissing me because he didn’t care about my concerns. You’re the one who taught me to look for things like that.”

“He wasn’t dismissing you, and your concerns are unreasonable. The Chancellor already said he plans on returning power to the Senate as soon as the war is over, his word should be enough.” She didn’t like where this was going. She also didn’t want to fight.

“He could’ve fooled me then.” Anakin shook his head, and it was clear he was trying to avoid making a scene by keeping his voice down. “He’s acting like a dictator and if we don’t do something about it, who knows what the galaxy will be like.”

“Anakin, please.” Padmé frowned. “I’m tired and don’t want to do this, especially not here.” She didn’t, not now. Right now, all she wanted to do was lay down and try to catch any amount of rest before the visions returned, and have those false contractions stop.

“No, we’re having this conversation.” Anakin wasn’t having it, and she winced as his voice got slightly louder. “What’s gotten into you. I know things are bad right now, but when did you just give up on fighting for everything you believe in. The Padmé I know never would have let Palpatine do what he did back there, and definitely not to me.”

“What you’re fighting for is treason!” She finally snapped. “You want me to go in there and stand up against the Republic when that’s what I’ve been fighting for this entire war?”

“I want you to stand up for what’s right! You were never afraid to before!” She winced at how angry he was. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She really didn’t because she no longer knew just what was right. Everything was confusing, everything and everyone were wrong, everything was–

Padmé’s thoughts froze as she felt something change within her, and had the very terrifying realization of just what it meant. Anakin must have sensed it too, because he stopped yelling. “Padmé?”

“We really need to have this conversation another time, Ani. We need to get to a hospital.”

Anakin gave her a confused stare, still clearly thrown off. “What?”

“My water just broke. The baby is coming.”

-x-

It had been several hours since their fight in the Senate building, and while Anakin hadn’t wanted to let it go, it didn’t matter. Right now, none of it mattered. Democracy, the Chancellor, the Delegation, it was all unimportant when compared to the sound of his wife crying in pain. Despite how late at night it was (early morning now?) he hadn’t bothered to get any sleep. He needed to be there for Padmé, for anything she might need. “You’re doing great Angel, just a little bit more.” He continued to try to speak calming reassurances, even if he was anything but calm. This was too early. They should have had more time.

“The dilation is finished. She is ready to deliver.” The med droid got Anakin’s attention, and he could have almost sighed in relief. “Miss Naberrie, you’re going to need to push now.”

It was clear she was exhausted and in more pain than she possibly ever had, but she pushed. Anakin would have looked, but right now his attention was on Padmé and only her. He needed to make sure she was alright. After only a few short moments, the droid called out, “It’s a boy!”

Anakin walked over, in order to hold his son in his arms with a look of wonder. He was wrinkly, and red and puffy and absolutely perfect. He handed the baby to Padmé, who looked at him with such a tender look as she whispered. “Hi Luke.”

His heart swelled with joy, though it only lasted for a moment before she let out another pained groan. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course. Miss Naberrie is simply getting ready to push out the other.” For a moment, Anakin and Padmé looked at each other, startled at those words. Other?

That second was interrupted of course, by another round of pain, and Padmé began pushing once more, and it wasn’t long before the second child was in the arms of the droid. “A girl!”

A boy and a girl, they were both right.

Anakin grabbed the girl as well and cradled her in his arms. She was so small, and he lowered himself down so she could be level with her mother as well, who gave her the exact same look as well. “Leia, meet your mommy.”

Padmé laughed slightly, and his anger and disappointment was forgotten as he simply lived in the moment. “Twins.”

“Twins.” Anakin confirmed, something that was almost unfathomable to imagine, if he was honest.

There was so much to worry about in the coming days, but in that moment, none of them mattered.

All that mattered to Anakin was this small room, and the four people in it.

[hangovercurse]

n y l a

Twenty-eight hundred miles separate two lovers.

Pete X Reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing

Based off of  “n y l a” by blackbear

A/N: This one hurt me but once it came to my head, I had to write it.

Day 1

The streets of Los Angeles felt foreign, despite the times you’d traveled them on trips with Pete. Perhaps it was his absence that made them seem so strange.

You texted him.

LA feels different without you

Pete got the text as he left the studio for his lunch break, frowning when he remembered you wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got home.

Maybe you should come home

You got his text after you opened the door to the studio you’d be spending the next 10 months in, forgetting about the notification when your new boss welcomed you. It wasn’t until you got home that night that you could answer him with a facetime.

“Hi Petey!” You chirped, the excited smile on your face falling when you realized he was in bed and exhausted.

He tried to cover it up with a smile, but you knew him too well. “Hey beautiful, how was your day?”

You cocked your head, “what time is it over there?” You glanced at your clock, not realizing it was already 11 pm.

“I think it’s like 2 or something” he mumbled.

Your eyes shot open in shock, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late for you.”

Pete shrugged it off, adjusting so he was sitting against the headboard. “You know I can’t sleep without you anyways.” You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond to that. You knew he had no intention of making you feel guilty, but how could you not? You’d left him alone in New York for an opportunity in LA.

The notification from your phone pulled you out of your trance, your lips parting from Pete’s as you began to move off the couch. “Babe, you can check it later,” he whined, trying to keep you in your place.

You giggled, pecking him on the lips, “it could be important, I gotta check it.”

Pete pouted, but let you up anyways, watching you prance around the apartment to grab the phone you’d left in the kitchen. “If you’re not back here in 20 seconds I’m not gonna wanna kiss you anymore!” He called to you, eliciting a chuckle from your mouth.

“You always wanna kiss me, dork.” You called back, unlocking your phone. Pete’s response was lost on your ears as you read the email you’d gotten, excitement running through your veins.

Pete was concerned by your silence, “babe? Everything okay?” You didn’t respond, you just slowly walked out of the kitchen to stand in front of him, a small smile on your lips. “Y/N?” He asked.

“I got the job.” Your voice was breathless, shock evident on every inch of your body. “The movie in Hollywood, I got it!”

Pete’s eyes went wide, standing up and moving towards you to grab your face in his hands. “That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.” He pressed his lips to yours passionately, smiling into the kiss. “When do you start?”

You looked down at your phone, reading through the finer details that your mind had forgotten to look at after you read that you’d been accepted. A frown fell on your face when you digested what all the information meant. “I leave on Wednesday,” you couldn’t speak above a whisper, suddenly disappointed at the news that you only had 2 more days with Pete.

His energy went down with yours, but he tried to cover it up with a smile that he could barely muster. “That’s great, you’ve been waiting for this for months. You can finally get started.”

You bit your lip as you continued reading the information, “Pete,” you paused to take in a deep breath, stabilizing your voice to no avail, “they want me out there for 10 months.”

It felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of the room, replaced with feelings of fear and doubt. The thought of 10 months without Pete played through your mind, tears forming behind your eyes. Pete looked hurt, like a puppy when its owner prepares to leave. His hands stayed on your face, thumb stroking your skin softly.

He took a few moments to process your words, “we can do 10 months.” He nodded, voice lifting to keep you cheerful, “10 months is nothing. And I can come and see you during breaks and if you have time off you can come back.”

You smiled softly, trying to convince yourself that he was right. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, so he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Y/N, we’ve been together for almost three years. We’ll be okay.”

You knew he was hiding how he truly felt, but you were in no state to push him to tell you.

 Day 41

Being away from New York never got easier for you. If anything, it felt like it was getting even more difficult. Between Pete’s demanding schedule at SNL and your work seeming to never end, you’d stopped calling as much.

Obviously, you tried whenever you could, but more days than not you were falling asleep only hours before Pete was waking up, or he’d fall asleep as you were leaving work. It didn’t change how much you loved him, but there was more strain on your relationship now than there had ever been.

Luckily tonight you got out a few hours early, due to rain preventing the scene from being shot. Your team was given permission to leave, despite the fact that you could probably go to the studio and work on more designs. But you needed tonight.

For the first time in much too long, Pete’s face popped up on your screen. “Hi Petey,” you were much less chirpy than you were the first day, but you were excited nonetheless, “I miss you.”

Pete was in the SNL studio, one AirPod in so he could talk to you privately. “Hey beautiful, I’m in the office, can I call you later?”

You bit your lip to hide the frown, giving him a small nod. “Yeah.” You whispered softly, disappointment filling your lungs. “I love you.”

You had expected him to say it back, but he’d gotten distracted by someone off screen and ended the call without responding. There was no room for you to be mad at him, as you had done the same to him many times, sometimes not even picking up the call and sending a quick text that you’d call him later. Only, you never seemed to make time to call.

You couldn’t help but feel the guilt crawl into your bones and make a home. Truthfully, you hadn’t been the best girlfriend lately, your job seeming to take up any and all time you would get to spend with Pete. And you knew he’d noticed, and you wouldn’t blame him for being upset.

That night you waited up for hours, waiting for a call or a text that you began to feel was never coming.

 Day 87

You had gotten better at calling since that night, but it only lasted a few weeks before you fell into the trap that was work. Most nights you weren’t home until midnight or later, choosing to stay and finish the work that the rest of your team wouldn’t. But not tonight, not this day. Not when you had something to look forward to, finally.

It was the first night you were home before 9pm in over a week, and you called Pete immediately, despite the stress of work wearing you down. You needed your person more than anything, craving the sound of his voice.

“Hi Petey.” Your voice was soft as you took in his disheveled figure. The bags under his eyes were sunken deeper than ever and his hair grown out.

He didn’t smile at you, just responding with a flat, “hey beautiful.”

Even the words that once felt special to you two had begun to feel tired and worn down. “I miss you,” you said, hoping you didn’t sound as tired as you felt. Pete ran a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry, knowing this as the first sign of something wrong. “What’s going on, Pete?”

He hung his head, no longer able to hold eye contact with the phone. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Recently, you had felt like nothing could hurt you more than the constant ache of overworking yourself and not seeing Pete. But this cut a hole deep in your soul, in a place you never thought would feel this type of pain. You stuttered trying to find a response, only to realize there wasn’t one to give.

“I love you, okay? I will always love you. But I can’t- I can’t do the waiting and the texts and the disappointment. It’s killing me.” He sounded broken, so defeated.

You felt a tear fall down your cheek, not even realizing you had started to cry. “Pete, please-“

He shook his head, cutting you off with an “I can’t anymore.”

“I can get better, Pete. I can start going home earlier, I can ask for a weekend off to come see you, we can figure it out.” You felt desperate, grasping at anything to make him stay.

He let out a bitter laugh, “I shouldn’t have to break up with you for you to start trying, Y/N!” His voice blasted through your headphones, the yelling making you flinch slightly. “If you really wanted to make things work, they would be working.”

You closed your eyes, tears dripping as you took a deep breath. His words from 3 months ago rang in your ears.

“We can do 10 months. 10 months is nothing.”

“I’m trying, Pete. It’s not exactly easy for me.” You kept a steady voice as much as you could, anger slowly replacing the sadness.

The bitter laugh returned, “yeah? Well, just remember you were the one who left.”

The coldness in his voice was unfamiliar to you. You’d fought with Pete before, but this was something new altogether. “What was I supposed to do, Pete?” Your volume had increased, heart thumping wildly.

“You were supposed to stay.”

Angry confusion crossed your features, “I’ve been dreaming of this job since I was 16, Pete. I was sending in designs for months before I even got accepted to work on set. I couldn’t just say no.”

Pete only shook his head in response, anger evident on his features. Anger and something that resembled disgust. You hoped you were misreading it. “I have always been supportive of you, Pete,” you continued, tears of hurt and frustration streaming down your face. “And the one time I get something good you want me to throw it all away?”

“I don’t take jobs that are twenty-eight hundred miles away.” His harsh tone cutting your fragile skin, “and I tried to be supportive, but you were the one who started pulling away from me.”

Your voice turned into a whine, a desperate plea to try and get him to think logically. “You’re the one who told me to go.” You paused, watching his reaction. He didn’t answer, he just held a look of disappointment, “Pete, you were the one who said we would make it work, remember? You said 10 months was nothing.”

“Yeah, Y/N. I fucking lied, okay? Obviously, its not working.”

You could practically feel your heart tearing in half, and suddenly you had no more energy to fight. If he didn’t want this anymore, you couldn’t force him to stay. You wouldn’t force him to stay. So, you simply said,

“Okay.”

He looked confused, “okay?”

“You don’t want to do this anymore. Okay.” You paused, trying to suppress every nerve in your body that was screaming at you to fight. “You don’t have to.”

You had intended for your last words to be strong, to regain some sense of dignity. But all that came out was a whisper.

Part of you hoped Pete would say something, but he just looked at you with broken eyes. You were sure yours looked no different.

“Goodbye, Petey.” You sighed, “Happy anniversary.”

Your finger tapped the screen, ending the call before he could say anything. You whispered to the blank screen,

“I love you.”

 Day 126

You never fully recovered. Sure, you pretended to. The fake smile you wore was almost starting to feel like a permanent fixture on your face.

Every time you glanced at a notification on your phone, you could feel your heart break all over again. You couldn’t find it in yourself to change the wallpaper from the picture of you and Pete.

His mom had taken it when you guys weren’t looking. You’d been up late at night when he was living with her, making food together. Pete had grabbed your hips and started swaying, making you dance with him to no music. It was one of the many times that you fell in love with Pete all over again.

 Day 284

The smell of sewage and diesel filled your nose, but you took them in willingly. You were home, finally. You’d gotten a week off from the movie unexpectedly, and even if you hadn’t spoken to Pete in nearly 5 months, you’d be damned if you didn’t go home for the week.

Everything felt familiar: the shops you passed, the lines of traffic, the merchants, the crowds. You finally felt like you would feel okay again.

You made the familiar trip to what was once your and Pete’s apartment, hoping he had kept it. You assumed he would have told you if he sold it, but you couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

The walk to the door felt endless, the hallway seemingly getting longer.

Once you reached it, you hesitated. A nauseating feeling had settled in your stomach, making you second guess even coming to New York.

But before you could turn back, you knocked on the door.

Your eyes closed as you heard footsteps approach, inhaling deeply as the knob turned.

When you opened your eyes, you didn’t find the familiar brown ones. Instead, you were met with a small blue-eyed girl who couldn’t be much younger than you.

You stumbled over words, eventually managing to get the phrase, “does Pete still live here?” out.

She smiled kindly at you, “yeah. He’s in the shower right now, but you can wait for him if you want.”

Your heart sunk at the thought of who she could be. “Um, n-no. I’ll just, uh. It’s fine.” You backed up slowly, ready to dart back to the airport, get on a plane to LA, and never return to this city again.

“Do you want me to tell him you stopped by…?” She was clearly asking for your name, but you made up your mind then and there that Pete wouldn’t know you stopped by.

“No, thank you.”

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 22/?

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (Your best friend's name)

We're back, we're in full swing, we've hit like 50 followers, we've hit 500 notes. We're thriving.

Also! Fun fact but I can't actually watch Young Justice season 3 (and 4) or Titans :/ They're on DC Universe, which is only available in America. (If you can't catch on, I'm not from America lol)

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Injury, Kidnapping, Police/ Justice System, Manipulation attempts, Gaslighting, Violence, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21) (Part 22)

The days became longer and kept bothering Y/N. She was losing grip on reality. Aria would come in occasionally and feed her. Give her water. Let her use the bathroom. She was stuck. She wanted to knock off that stupid fucking bird plague doctor mask and, look her pathetic sister in her eyes. And let Aria know that she knew, she knew who it was.

But she was backed into a corner. And the mask was not going to come off anytime. Boy, oh boy, she wanted it to fall. She wanted it to slip so she could boot it into the walls she had become accustomed to. She wanted it to fall and shatter.

Aria came into the room like normal, to be greeted by Y/N not even looking her in the eyes.

"Come here, love," Aria said.

"Go to Hell."

"I need to use you for a "Proof of Life" video. So I can use you for ransom. Come here."

"No."

"Come here. Now," Aria said, voice getting more hoarse and pissed off with Y/N and her actions.

"No."

"Come. Here. Now!" She screeched.

"No!"

She felt Aria's claws grab her wrists and dig in, she could feel the blood seeping through the claws from her wrists. Aria pushed her into the wall, still gripping her wrists and letting the blood flow down Y/N's arms.

"Listen here, you fucking bitch," Aria said, dropping her voice a few octaves, to seem intimidating. "I want that money. If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you."

Y/N whimpered but spat at her sister, "You'll fucking die trying."

Aria wrestled Y/N into her seat and handcuffed her to it. She then set up the video camera.

"And, recording. Talk."

"I fucking hate you."

"You should."

"Go to fucking Hell."

"The date is February 14th. Here," she shoved a newspaper into the view of the camera, Y/N didn't even notice Aria bring it in. She saw the article on the back of her kidnapping. She knew people were still talking.

"Here is the date. On a newspaper. This video will be released today. If I don't get the money within a week, I'll kill her. Along with the Waynes."

Y/N gulped. This just got so much more real than she was expecting.

Aria left the room, with Y/N still handcuffed to the chair. She took in the room she had become used to. She had spent a week in captivity, expecting the vigilantes of Gotham to come and get them, but they didn't. She was confused as to why-

Wait a damn minute, she thought. Are you- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait. Oh my god? The family is in captivity, the vigilantes haven't come for us yet, are- she paused. Are they the vigilantes? There's no way, they can't be- Can they? They can- Can't they, huh? Fuck. We're- We're not getting out anytime soon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is a God damn pickle we've gotten into. Aria must know what I think, the family- she paused, almost as if she didn't believe what she was thinking. That they're the Gotham vigilantes. She must- Fuck!

I don't care that they didn't tell me- she thought like someone could read her thoughts. She figured that someone might be able to. She knew that Martian Manhunter had those abilities. she figured that Miss Martian, who she didn't see often, likely shared those abilities.

I care that we might be fucked.

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

Before she knew it, that exact day, she figured, February 14th? The door was broken down by Superman. This just put the pieces together more for Y/N. Her assumptions about the Waynes being the Gotham vigilantes were just seeming more likely as time went on.

Superman uncuffed her and she thanked him before running out to where Aria was being arrested by the Gotham police. But she didn't stop, and she knocked off Aria's mask.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Aria said, nonchalantly.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Y/N mocked. "You fucking bitch!" she yelled and pushed Aria, while the police tried to detain her. She struggled and tried to attack Aria further, "Let go! I know her power of attorney is going to be her sister-"

"How do you know that?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"Because her sister is me!" She yelled when she finally broke away from the police, trying to get closer to Aria, before Commissioner Gordon stopped her, grabbing her arms and squeezing lightly. She stared at him, dead-faced. No emotions were there, other than anger, raw, seething anger.

Aria laughed, "Oops. I guess the jig is up."

Y/N was seething, she didn't even notice the JLA and the rest of the Waynes were behind her. She was still struggling to get towards Aria, yelling and just making noise.

She was making a scene, but she didn't care. She felt betrayed.

"You fucking bitch. You absolutely pathetic piece of shit."

"Keep yelling at me, Y/N. Mom and Dad will be disappointed in you. They always are, aren't they?"

Y/N turned to Commissioner Gordon, who was still holding her in place, "You either get her out of my fucking face in 5 seconds or I'm going to hurt her. That's not a threat," she turned to Aria, "That's a fucking promise."

"We might have to detain you at this rate, Y/N."

"And I would understand that, but I'm going to hurt her."

"Ma'am, calm down." Commissioner Gordon said before waving his hand and the other police took Aria into the back of a police car. "I'm going to have to arrest you," he said, trying to show sympathy for the pain that Y/N was in.

"Then do it already," Y/N mumbled, eyes still locked on the police car her sister was in.

"Gordon?" Jason called, "I swear, I've never seen this much anger in her. I'm sure you can send her home with us."

"You better be right about that, Jason."

"I really think I am right."

Gordon looked at Y/N, which she caught in the corner of her eye. She could tell he was upset about this, he was trying to get to her, to get her to understand her anger was okay, but beating her sister wasn't.

And then Aria waved as they drove her to the station.

But she wasn't even paying attention and before she knew it, she was in Jason's arms. He was holding her while talking to the police about the attack. He had his hands wrapped around her waist while he was behind her, maximizing the ability he had to stop her should she run.

He knew what he was doing, and it was working to calm her slightly, to the point where the police were able to talk to her about her experience with the attacker they knew as Hour, or as Arianna (Last name).

Once they were done with questioning her, they spoke more to Jason, who still had her in his grasp.

She surveyed the area and noticed that Bruce was talking to Superman.

The pieces were all falling into place. She knew he had to be Batman at that moment.

And she wanted in on it.

The hopelessness she felt when Aria had her kidnapped was astronomical. She wanted to make sure no one ever felt that way again, not if she could help it. She wanted in on it all.

She thought back to Jason's stab wound, the scar still fresh. She knew it wasn't a mugging. It had to be him saving the city from peril. She realized how dumb she was for buying into that lie, but she wasn't mad at anyone in her vicinity.

She was mad- pissed- so far beyond angry at Aria.

She didn't know she could be so angry. She didn't know she had it in her to be so angry at Aria. But she was. She was so unbelievably pissed. Any mention of her name sent Y/N into seething anger, and Jason could feel her heart race in her body.

She wasn't paying attention to words anymore. She just wanted to get out of there, to go home. To her home, not Jason's. She didn't feel safe in the Wayne Manor anymore.

No one could blame her when she told the police to drive her to her house, not the Wayne Manor. Jason just hugged her and asked when he could see her next. She told him in the morning. "Or," she added, "At 3 in the morning. I don't care. Just leave me alone right now."

Everyone understood. They didn't have their own sister kidnap them after all.

She got to her house and got inside, A/N immediately trying to flag her down to talk to her, but she just put up a hand and waved her off. Slinking to her room without a second thought and locking the door.

She didn't want to talk about it. The thoughts about her sister racing through her mind. The thoughts about how her boyfriend was a vigilante. How was she going to bring this up? How was she going to tell him that she knew? That she wanted in on the act? That she wanted to fight alongside him- and his family?

Before she knew it, and like clockwork, it was 3 in the morning. And Jason was knocking on her window. She assumed that he had tried to let himself into her room, but to no avail since she hadn't unlocked the door.

She went over to her window and unlocked it. She lifted it and Jason crawled in.

"I have a front door," she said.

"You didn't answer when I tried to knock on your door," he joked. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as anyone can in my situation."

"Well, everyone wishes you came home with us, so we could watch you on your first night away from-"

"From my sister?"

"I was going to say from captivity."

"So, my sister."

"Yeah, that."

"Uh-huh."

"So, anyway," Jason said, trying to get Y/N's mind off of Aria. "Did you sleep when you got here?" he asked.

"No. I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Lost in thought. There's a lot of thoughts, not enough brain," she joked. "You probably get that part."

"I do-"

"When were you going to tell me?" she but in.

"Tell you what?" he questioned, confused.

"That you're one of the vigilantes," she answered, studying his face. He seemed taken aback by the statement and tried to avert her gaze. Oh yeah, he knows what I'm on about, she thought.

"I-"

"You know what I'm on about, Jay. You know I know so don't lie anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No. You know I know. I know you know. Don't lie anymore. I'm not even ad at the lies, you're trying to keep me safe, obviously."

"Oh."

"The truth is, babe, I want in."

"What!?"

(Oh my god? Are we going to get Red Hood action? (The answer is yes, in due time)

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Maple Syrup Kisses - Harry Potter

Title: Maple Syrup Kisses Pairing: Harry x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Dirty talk, male receiving oral, fingering and unprotected sex Summary: Y/N just wants Harry to feel special on his birthday! A/N: For the anon who wanted Harry and the reader feeding each other strawberries with it ending in some smut!! Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!!

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

Y/N moves as quietly as she can as she pushes the bedroom door open with her hip, as to not wake Harry. Not only is today his birthday, but it’s the first day in weeks that he doesn’t need to be up and out of the house early, and Y/N wants him to sleep in for as long as possible. She’s already been up for hours, wrapping a few more presents and making him some of his favorite breakfast foods for him to enjoy in bed.

She heads into their room quietly, placing the tray full of food in her hands on their dresser. It’s well after 10 am, and although she’s sure Harry could sleep for a few more hours, she’s ready for their day to begin. Y/N slowly crawls up their bed, admiring how peaceful Harry looks when he’s asleep. She settles on her side next to Harry and starts to press light kisses all over his face.

“Harry, love,” she coos, gently rubbing his arm. “It’s time to wake up.”

Harry starts to stir in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open slowly. “Y/N?” he asks. He turns slightly so he can look at Y/N, and a sleepy smile appears on his face. “Mornin’ love. What time is it?”

“Nearly 11,” Y/N murmurs, kissing Harry briefly. “Happy birthday, love.”

Harry grins, stretching out his limbs as he starts to wake up more. “My birthday and a lie in? Best day ever,” he says. Harry grabs Y/N’s chin and presses their lips together in a slow kiss. “What a wonderful way to be woken up. Thank you.”

Y/N chuckles and kisses Harry again, just letting their soft lips move together for a few moments. “You’re welcome, Harry. But let me make it even better.” Y/N sits up and motions for Harry to do the same. Once he’s settles back against the pillows Y/N grabs her wand off of their night table, and casts a charm so the tray full of food starts to float over towards them.

“Breakfast in bed?” Harry asks happily. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” Harry settles the tray onto his lap, giving Y/N a look when she laughs at him. “What? It’s nice to enjoy the simple things in life.”

Y/N shakes her head and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “That’s one of the things I love most about you, Harry.”

“What’s that, love?” Harry asks as he drowns his pancakes in syrup.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she teases. “You have the entire world at your fingertips. You could ask for anything and have it an instant. And how do you choose to use that power? Sleeping in and having breakfast in bed.”

“Who needs the entire world at their disposal when they’ve got you?” Harry compliments after swallowing his first bite. “You made these the muggle way, didn’t you?” When Y/N nods Harry groans in appreciation. “You have truly outdone yourself, Y/N. These are amazing.” He leans over and presses a sticky, maple flavored kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Harry.” Y/N sits back, and watches Harry eat, her hand coming up to run through his messy hair. It rarely looks tame when he tries to do something with it, and Y/N loves how it looks in the morning. It always sticks in 100 different directions, and it’s silky which makes it the perfect texture for her hands to run through.

“So, what have you got planned for the rest of the day?” Harry asks as he takes a sip of orange juice.

Y/N grins at him. “Sleeping in and breakfast in bed isn’t enough for you?” she teases.

Harry rolls his eyes playfully. “Just sitting here next to you is enough for me. You know that.” Harry takes another bite and chews slowly before swallowing. “But I know you, and you go above and beyond for even the simplest things so there’s no way this isn’t the start to an amazing day.”

“You know me too well, Harry,” Y/N laughs. “We’ve got a late lunch booked in at your favorite restaurant with Andromeda and Teddy,” Y/N starts, giggling when Harry beams brightly. “And then dinner tonight at The Burrow with all of the Weasleys, an amazing cake made by Molly herself and loads and loads of presents.”

“You’re the most wonderful human being on the planet, you know that?” Harry compliments, pulling Y/N in for another maple syrup kiss. “You’ve managed to plan the perfect day for me. It’s like you crawled inside of my brain or something.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Y/N insists, her cheeks tinted pink from Harry’s praise.

Harry is always doing little things to make Y/N feel special. Whether it’s surprising her with dinner at her favorite restaurant or bringing her home flowers. He’s even been known to send her an owl during the middle of the day just to let her know he’s thinking about her. Harry’s birthday is the only day of the year he lets people spoil him, and Y/N is sure to take full advantage of that so she can make him feel just as special as he always makes her feel.

“Here, love. Try a strawberry,” Y/N says to avoid getting any more praise from Harry. She loves his sweet words, but today is supposed to be about him. She picks a strawberry out of the bowl by its’ bright green leaves and slowly brings it up to Harry’s mouth. Y/N watches in awe as Harrys lips wrap around it, and she strangely starts to feel a little turned on.

“Mmm,” Harry moans as he takes a bite. “Those are really good.” He grabs his own strawberry out of the bowl and brings it up to Y/N’s mouth. “Try one, love.”

Y/N takes a bite of the strawberry Harry offers her as he takes another bite of the one in her hand. They both make noises of appreciation in the back of their throats, and the sound goes right to Y/N’s core. As Harry takes the final bite of the fruit is mouth just barely grazes Y/N’s fingers, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning.

They sit there in silence just feeding each other for a few minutes, both Harry and Y/N starting to get more turned on as they go. Each time they reach the end of the fruit they let their lips brush the other’s fingers. One-time Y/N even goes as far as to suck Harry’s fingers for a moment, smirking when he lets out a quiet moan.

As Y/N takes the last bite some of the juice drips down her chin. Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb, and before he can do anything else Y/N has wrapped her lips around the digit and is sucking it clean. When Y/N releases his thumb Harry lurches forward and presses their lips together hotly, too turned on to continue teasing. Y/N moans into Harry’s mouth and fumbles for her wand. As so as her hand grips it she waves it, casting a silent spell that makes the tray float back onto their dresser. She throws her wand off the bed and grabs Harry’s shoulders, pulling him on top of her.

“Y/N,” Harry moans as she starts to bite and suck at his neck. “Let me show you how much I appreciate you.” His hand starts to trail down her body to the waist band of her shorts. But before his hand can dip underneath the band, Y/N is shaking her head and flipping them over so she’s now hovering over Harry.

“It’s your birthday, love,” she starts, trailing kisses down Harry’s neck and bare chest. “Let me make you feel good.”

Y/N moves down Harry’s torso, occasionally stopping to bite at his skin and suck marks into his pale flesh. When she reaches his crotch Y/N presses hot, open mouthed kisses to his cloth covered cock, letting her hand slowly palm at him.

“If you insist,” Harry groans, letting his head tip back. He threads a hand in Y/N’s hair, lifting his hips up to aid her in taking his boxers off. “You spoil me too much, love,” he says as he looks back down at her.

Y/N wraps her hand around Harry’s cock, starting to stroke him as he moans for her. “Don’t get too used to it,” she jokes, letting her warm breath ghost over his length. She smiles as he twitches in her hand, and she presses a slow kiss to the swollen tip. Y/N makes eye contact with Harry as she sucks the tip between her lips, moaning around him as he lets out his own noise of pleasure.

“Oh,” Harry gasps as Y/N starts to take him down further, his grip on her hair tightening. “Feel so good wrapped around me, love,” Harry compliments. “You always know how to make me feel good.”

Y/N blushes at Harry’s words, and brings a hand up to stroke the part of his cock she can’t quite fit into her mouth. She starts to bob her head up and down slowly, letting her tongue rub up against the underside of his cock. As Harry starts to pant and groan above her Y/N increases her speed with ever stroke, her hand twisting at the base of his cock. She hums as her mouth reaches the tip, pausing for a moment so her tongue can lap at the precum gathering there.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Harry moans, his hips involuntarily bucking up slightly. “Doing so good, Angel,” he praises.

Spurred on by Harry’s encouragement, Y/N bobs her head eagerly, taking as much of Harry down her throat as possible. As her nose brushes the area of skin just above Harry’s cock the tip jabs the back of her throat and she gags as Harry moans loudly.

“Gonna cum in your pretty little mouth if you keep doing that,” Harry warns as Y/N gags around him once again.

Not wanting him to finish just yet, Y/N slowly pulls off of Harry with a wink. He whines at the loss, and she lets her hand slowly stroke him. “As much as I love the taste of you, Harry,” she starts, wiping away the spit on her chin with her free hand. “I’d much rather have you finish somewhere else.”

Harry chuckles and brings Y/N in for a brief kiss as he flips them over. Harry kisses her again slower as he gets rids of all of Y/N’s clothes, letting his hands run over every inch of skin he reveals. He settles in between her spread legs, and trails kisses down her neck as his hand starts to trail up her thigh.

“Oh, Harry,” Y/N moans as his fingers start to rub her wet folds.

“Look how wet you are, Angel,” Harry teases as he sinks a finger into her entrance. He’s rewarded with a beautiful moan when he curls it, and he immediately brings another in alongside it. “You’re already so turned on just from having my cock in your mouth.”

Y/N shivers as Harry’s thumb starts to rub slow circles on her clit, her hips moving to meet his thrusts. “Harry please,” she begs. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

Harry smirks as Y/N squirms underneath him. “Thought today was all about me and what I want to do?” he teases, curling his fingers again. “Maybe I just wanna use my fingers.”

Y/N’s fingers dig into Harry’s shoulder and she whines as he slows his movements down. “Need you in me Harry, please,” Y/N pleads, her walls clenching and twitching around his digits.

“Since you asked so nicely, Angel.” Harry fingers Y/N for another few moments, relishing in her moans and whines. He curls his fingers one last time before removing them from Y/N’s heat, and he grips a thigh in each hand. “Ready for me?”

Y/N nods wildly, “God Harry, yes. So ready for you.” They both moan lowly as Harry enters Y/N, his hips pushing into her until his cock is fully buried inside of her. “Oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, her toes curling. “Fill me up so good, Harry. Always stretch me out. Feels so good.”

“Y/N,” Harry groans, starting to slowly pulls his hips back and fuck into her. “Always so tight for me, Angel. Feel so good around me.” Harry starts to fuck Y/N at a moderate pace, and he throws one of her legs over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper.

“Right there,” Y/N moans as the tip of his cock brushes her g-spot. “Right there Harry don’t stop.”

Harry starts to rub Y/N’s clit, wanting her to finish before him. “Come on, Angel. Show me how good my cock makes you feel.”

Y/N back arches and her eyes flutter shut as Harry starts to rub her clit harder. “So close, Harry, fuck,” Y/N moans. Her hips move up to meet Harry with every thrust and she can feel her walls clenching and fluttering around Harry’s cock. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna-“ Y/N’s warning falls from her lips as her orgasm hits, Harry’s name falling from her lips instead.

“So good for me, Angel,” Harry praises as Y/N comes down from her high, his hips still relentlessly moving into her. Her walls are like a vice grip around him, and when Y/N drags her nails down Harry’s back his hips stutter, and he’s spilling into Y/N with a shout of her name. Harry continues moving inside Y/N as they come down, and once his cock has stopped twitching he slowly pulls out and falls onto the bed next to her.

Y/N runs a hand through her sweaty hair, letting Harry pull her into his side. “How did you like your present?” she says playfully, pressing a few kisses to his jaw.

“It was absolutely brilliant, love.” Harry grabs Y/N’s chin so he can press a chaste kiss to her lips. “And I’m very happy that you decided to give it to me know instead of in front of all the Weasley’s tonight after dinner,” he jokes.

Y/N laughs and kisses Harry deeply. “I’m sure they all would have enjoyed that,” she teases with a wink. Y/N looks at the clock on their bedside table, groaning at how late it is. “We better hop in the shower, love. Or we’ll be late for lunch.”

“Ugh, do we have to?” Harry whines, pulling Y/N on top of him. She giggles as Harry tickles her sides, and he presses their mouths together to muffle the sound. “I could just lay in bed here with you forever.”

“Me too,” Y/N agrees, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “But I spent a lot of time and effort planning this day for you and I’m not going to let you miss any of it.” Y/N places one more kiss to Harry’s lips before she crawls out of bed and starts to head towards the bathroom. “And I may or may not have a few more, private presents for us to use tonight after dinner.”

Harry immediately perks up at that, and he jumps out of bed. “Race you to the shower!” he shouts, laughing as Y/N chases after him.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if...? Part 10a

Yes, it is 10a, because I said it would be 10 parts and not 11, so you will be getting the epilogue as 10b. HAH! ...Don’t look at me. T-T 

-

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10a

For the first five hours after leaving the Covert, Davarax is out of it. Everyone draws a sigh of relief when his eyes open and he’s back with them again.

“Where are we going?” Din asks, frowning at the coordinates.

Davarax manages a faint smile, still sedated by pain. “Someone who can help us.” He then makes a face and presses his hand gently to the pressure bandage on his neck. “We just have to find her.”

Dulsissia realizes she doesn’t care where they go as long as that means they can get some medical supplies and patch him up properly. “Take it easy.” She uses her fingers to comb the dark locks of his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “We’ll find this person. Leave it to us.”

It takes them two days, but at least by then Davarax is able to stand up and walk a little, so when they land on some strange planet and find themselves surrounded by unfamiliar Mandalorians, he is the first to walk off the Razor Crest, hands in the air, and greets the leader. “Lady Kryze.”

He had warned them that these were Mandalorians who lived by a different Creed. Dulsissia and the children had all been surprised to hear there were Tribes out there with other rules than theirs, but mostly they are unsettled by Davarax telling them to keep Paz and Raga’s last names a secret...

A Mandalorian steps forward, removes their helmet and reveals red hair and suspicious eyes. “Davarax? Is that you?”

Exhaling a faint laugh, Davarax lowers his arms and sways a little, which makes Dulsissia and Paz dart over to grab an arm each to support him. “It’s me.”

The one called Kryze clicks her tongue and tilts her head. “I thought you guys weren’t allowed to remove your helmets?”

“We’re not.” Davarax confirms, still with a weak smile.

Another unfamiliar Mandalorian steps forward and crosses their arms. “You’re cuter than I thought.” It doesn’t sound like she means as a compliment.

Davarax nods with amusement. “Thanks.”

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Kryze cuts in.

“Safety.” Davarax replies. “I need a place to stay for a while.”

The woman doesn’t blink. “And what do I get?”

“Me.” Davarax states. “One standard year, I’ll work for you.”

Something about the woman’s eyes makes Dulsissia tense up. This Kryze person looks a little too pleased at that. A gentle, quizzical squeeze of Davarax’ arm gets no response. He just keeps locking eyes with the other Mandalorian.

Kryze is the one to break the staring contest and looks over at Dulsissia. “And this one? She’s not a Mandalorian.”

“Ner riduur.” Davarax replies.

The Mandalorian who had commented on his looks snorts a loud, surprised laugh. “You? You got married? You?”

“I fell in love.”

Dulsissia feels her face burn. Him once again confessing his feelings for her so openly makes her knees weak, but she also feels a little bad that he has to lie for her; they aren’t married yet. She fully intends to marry this man, but she prefers him to be conscious under the ceremony and Davarax has been out cold for most of the two days on the ship.

“And these are your children?” Kryze shifts her attention to Paz, then the others waiting, huddled together, on the Razor Crest’s ramp.

“Yes.” Davarax confirms without hesitation.

Kryze nods, thoughtfully, then sets her sharp stare on Davarax again. “One year.”

He nods.

“And you will follow my orders.” This is clearly not debatable. “For one year, your loyalty is mine.”

Davarax nods again.

Dulsissia feels the urge to object, fears what he is promising himself into, but what does she know? Other than to trust Davarax. So she holds her tongue and hopes she won’t regret it.

Kryze holds out an arm, pointing them towards a building. “Then, welcome home.”

-

It doesn’t take long before Dulsissia realizes that the people in this Tribe are very different from Davarax’ people. While the Covert had treated her with polite distance, the Mandalorians here eye her with open disdain and suspicion. She’s not one of them and they don’t like it.

Paz, Raga and Din all end up in vicious fights on their very first day. Corin latches himself to his mother’s arm and Barthor basically refuses to leave the room assigned to them. If not for the fact that they need medical help for Davarax and that he’s given his word to stay a year, Dulsissia would have demanded they’d leave by the third day. But, stuck in this place, temporarily, she grits her teeth and tries to make things easier for both the children and Davarax.

With a doctor and some bacta, the injury on Davarax’ neck soon turns into a scar, a reminder of how close she’d come to lose him, and he barely has time to recover before Kryze sends him out on his first mission.

After Davarax comes back, without new wounds despite the blood on his armor, Dulsissia feels such a relief that she clings to him throughout the entire night. Brushing light fingertips over his scar, she keeps her voice down so not to wake the children sleeping at the other side of the room. “Two people asked me today what I did to make you marry me. Three, yesterday. I think one of them accused me of being a Jedi and doing some mind-control-trick on you.”

Davarax shakes with mute laughter. “My little Jedi witch.”

She pokes him in the side with two fingers, making him jolt and hug her closer. Dulsissia settles again and rests her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “How come you never married?”

“You’re the first that made me want to get married.” Davarax replies with a calm ease, as if his words doesn’t make all kind of happiness radiate through her entire body. He’s looking up at the ceiling, half-asleep. “You’re the first who not only accepted my kids, but loved them, from the very start, and that made me think… we could be one. Made me want it.”

“I do love them. And I love you.” Dulsissia finds his hand and braids their fingers together. Be one. That sounds so right. “How do Mandalorian weddings work? Who does the ceremony? The Tribe leader?”

Davarax turns his head to look at her, suddenly a little eager. “We can do them now. The vows.”

“What?” Dulsissia lifts her head to look at him as well. “Here? In the middle of the night, with no witnesses?”

“A marriage is the ultimate union in Mandalorian culture. It’s about embarking on a future together as one, of sharing everything and raising warriors together. It doesn’t matter where you take the vows, what we care about is that they are kept.”

Dulsissia considers this for a moment, has an involuntary flashback to her huge, glamorous event that had locked her to Macero, and decides she likes the idea of making it all about them instead of a ceremony designed to impress everyone else. But, there is one thing Dulsissia will insist on; “I want the kids to be a part of it. This union includes them, after all.”

Davarax smiles at her, this beautiful smile that takes her breath away for a second, then he lies back down and stares up at the ceiling again. “And this is why I want to marry you.”

Smiling as well, Dulsissia curls up close to him and feels like a giddy teenager again.

That happy feeling is nowhere to be found the next day when she stalks into their room with frustrated tears in her eyes and pressing a hand to her aching ribs. Dulsissia waves a dismissive hand to Din, Barthor and Corin, who instantly jump to their feet to run over to her. “I’m fine.”

Luckily neither Paz or Raga are there to witness this, but Davarax is and he wont be waved away. He gently but firmly persuades her to let him examine her and asks what happened.

“It’s her again.” Dulsissia snaps, cringing with pain as his hand presses gently against her ribs. “The one with the big mouth. I was partnered with her during training today and she acted like she had some kind of personal problem with me.”

Din and Corin exchange frowning looks in the background. Barthor crosses his arms.

“No broken ribs.” Davarax concludes, sounding a little relieved, then looks at her face and frowns a little himself when he sees the bruising on her jaw. He lifts his hand and lets the back of his index finger barely brush over the bruise. “You want me to deal with her?”

“No.” Dulsissia snaps, increasingly angrier. “I don’t need you to handle my problems. I’m going to get even better at this hand-to-hand combat thing and then I’m going to punch that all-helmet-no-brain Mando in her face!”

Davarax takes a gentle hold of her chin and grins. “That’s my girl.”

-

Strangely enough a foul smell emerges in one particular living quarter and as no one can determine the cause, the woman living there is forced to move. But the smell sticks to her for two weeks.

-

“They say an Imperial officer is looking for a Mandalorian and a blonde woman.” Bo-Katan states, her t-visor showing Davarax and Dulsissia’s reflections as she stands in the doorway to their room. “I take it that is why you said you needed a safe place to hide?”

Dulsissia feels her stomach clench with unease. Macero… He’d found them? No. If he had, this place would be swarming with Imperial troops. Everything would be on fire. Like Nevarro.

“Is that a problem for you?” Davarax drawls, almost challenges her.

Bo-Katan removes her helmet and looks at him with a confident smirk. “Not at all. Let him come.”

Dulsissia shakes her head. “Don’t underestimate this man, Lady Kryze. He’s-”

“I know all about Macero Valentis.” Bo-Katan cuts her off. “And I’m not afraid of him.”

“Maybe you should be.” Dulsissia warns her. “Did you hear what he did to Nevarro?”

That makes the smile on Bo-Katan’s face widen. “Nevarro did not have our blasters, canons, ships and bombs.”

Dulsissia blinks. Oh. Okay, she’s starting to understand why Davarax insisted on taking shelter with these mean people. Maybe the only way to defeat Macero is to fight fire with fire?

-

Bo-Katan sends Davarax out on mission after mission. Dulsissia sees the exhaustion return to his face. It drives Dulsissia to train harder, push herself harder, and hopes to to become less of a burden and eventually a true partner that can help him carry the weight of their family.

Entering the room one day, his hands shaking after whatever horrors he’s been through, Davarax proudly declares a shipment of durasteel has been acquired and Lady Kryze has agreed to let him bring his share to their armorer.

Dulsissia watches with a faint smile when she sees Paz and Raga beam with pride as they are fitted with armor. She’s highly amused when Barthor keeps making demands for adjustments to his, and extremely pleased with the delighted looks on Corin and Din’s faces when they get theirs. By the rules of Davarax’ Covert, Corin and Din both should be wearing their helmets now, like Barthor still does, something especially Din had considered a milestone for his adulthood. However, the armor seems to be an acceptable replacement for the moment.

Especially as they know there will be battle soon...

-

On board his ship, Macero grits his teeth, fury boiling in his veins, and he turns away from where the holo-message from his field-officer had been played for him. How could they be losing? He had sent more than enough troopers to deal with these cretins, so how could they be losing?

Mandalorians are a dangerous breed, he’s come to learn that after chasing them across the Galaxy in the hunt for his wife, but his troopers are highly trained soldiers with the best equipment possible. There is no way they can be losing to these dirt-dwellers!

Macero knew there was a chance this was a trap when news of a blonde woman observed with Mandalorians on this planet reached him, after not hearing a single whisper about his wife’s location for so long, but so what? He had the soldiers and firepower to deal with whatever these people tried to throw at him. Macero is not afraid of some arrogant Mandos.

The three officers in the communication room eye him nervously and Macero suddenly can’t stand their cowardly faces. “I will be in my office. Let me know if there are any more messages.”

Marching to his office, Macero hears the sound of battle on the ground and makes a silent vow that any trooper who retreats back to the ship is to be shot for cowardice. There is no way they are losing. He doesn’t care how bloody the cost will be; the Mandos will pay even more. He will wipe them from this planet.

Macero takes two steps into his office then comes to a halt. His chair is pointing the wrong way. Its back is towards the door. And he didn’t leave it like that.

The door closes behind him.

Looking back, Macero takes a startled step forward when he sees a tall, blue armor and blue helmet wearing Mandalorian standing there.

The sound of the chair turning makes Macero turn back as well and he’s surprised to see another blue armor and blue helmet wearing Mandalorian is sitting his his chair. A smaller one. “What is this?” Macero snaps angrily. “What do you want?”

“Your head on my wall, would be the honest answer.” The one in the chair replies. “But I don’t ever want to see your face again, so… I guess I’ll settle for your life.”

Macero frowns. It can’t be. It’s not possible.

The Mandalorian gets up from the chair. “I told them you were too clever to fall for a trap this obvious. They told me you were too arrogant to resist.” The blue helmet is removed and Dulsissia looks at him with a faint, mocking smile. “Knowing you and your ego, I agreed to try.”

She no longer looks like the frail girl he once knew, not the pretty decoration he wanted but a half-wild creature. Macero’s mouth tightens with disgust. “Where is my son?”

“He’s not here.” Her eyes are as cold as Antonia’s. The old hag would have been proud to witness this. She never liked Macero. “You will never see Corin again.”

“He’s my son.” Macero grits out. “And you are my wife. You two belong to me.”

Dulsissia’s soft laugh is pure mockery. “We don’t belong to you. And you are nothing to us.”

Enraged by her daring to talk to him like that, Macero casts a quick glance back at the Mandalorian blocking the door. “Because of this one? You think you can just take my son away and replace me with the first lumbering oaf tempted by you flashing your ankle?” Macero looks back at Dulsissia. “You better not be carrying his bastard child.”

“After Corin was born, I got the chip. I never was and I never am going to give you any more children to torment.”

“You think I care about you want? You think I will let a spoiled Motti girl ruin my plans?” Macero has never been this furious before. His blood is so hot it almost hurts in his veins. “Your little adventure is over, Dulcy. We’ve wasted enough time on your childish antics. You are coming home. Now.”

He backhands her across the face, hopes she feels it like he did the insult of her getting that damn chip behind his back, draws his blaster with his other hand at the same time and fires back at the Mandalorian.

-

Dulsissia is not prepared and the surprise of the impact knocks her off balance more than the pain. Still, she moves with it, uses the momentum to spin away to get some distance between them and get her helmet back on.

The HUD is still a bit confusing to her, but she knows the value of the protection the helmet offers. (Davarax had given up pieces of his own armor to have the beskar remade into helmets for them and she had cried over him having to sacrifice even more for their family.)

Davarax is forced to move in order to dodge the shots Macero fires at him and he draws his own weapon, but because of where Dulsissia is standing; he doesn’t fire back, unwilling to risk hitting her.

This buys Macero enough time to activate his communication link and demand back-up.

Dulsissia knows most of the men in her family are officers in the Imperial army because their names and fortune ensured it, but Macero had worked his way up and he is far from helpless.

He unfortunately proves it as he ducks under the punch Davarax throws at him, turns and delivers a hard kick at the side of Davarax’ knee, making him buckle. Macero keeps turning and fires his blaster at Dulsissia, forcing her to take cover behind his desk.

Davarax throws himself forward, plants his shoulder into Macero and manages to slam him into the wall, but that results in them being locked together while trying to pummel the other into submission and Dulsissia being the one not willing to shoot this time in case she’d hit Davarax.

And moments after that, the door to the office slides open to let a wave of storm troopers rush in.

It becomes chaos. And fear jolts through Dulsissia when she hears Macero call out the order for them to kill the Mandalorian but not harm her. Davarax is the best fighter she’s ever seen, but some times quality is forced to break under quantity. She stalks forward, picks up a blaster one of the now fallen troopers had lost, and she begins to fire with a weapon in each hand at every target her HUD identifies as hostile and absently marvels at the strength and agility of the man she loves as Davarax comes at the enemy with brute strength.

A warning flashes across her HUD and Dulsissia manages to side-step Macero’s attempt to slam the back of a blaster rifle at her helmet. She lifts the stolen blaster but he knocks it out of her hand instead and when she lifts her own blaster, another warning flashes across her HUD. This time she’s not fast enough to avoid it; Macero’s right hand locks around her throat and cuts off her air.

Automatically grabbing at his arm with her free hand, Dulsissia feels the ground disappear under her feet as he lifts her up and then her back slams down on his desk. Macero hovers over her with a furious expression on his face.

“You foolish girl.” He sneers with fury and disgust. “What did you think would happen? That I would give up? That you and your simpleton would live happily ever after? Stupid, stupid girl. Your blood is far too important to me. I will never let you go.  And I will find my son too. Believe me.”

She does.

The blaster shot is muffled due to the weapons muzzle pressing against its target, but Macero jolts and his eyes grow wide as he stares at her. His anger is replaced with shock and disbelief.

For a couple of heartbeats, as Dulsissia looks into Macero’s eyes, she remembers how his smile used to make her blush, how he would encourage her to talk and be the only one in her life who bothered to listen when she did, how incredibly gentle his hand was on her skin for their first kiss, and while that man never truly existed, she still says goodbye.

Macero slowly tilts to the side, his hand letting go of her throat, and he simply drops to the floor. His blood is on her armor, on her blaster and her hand. And yet, as Dulsissia draws a shivering breath, she feels free.

Her son is safe.

Sitting up, coughing, Dulsissia lifts her blaster and picks off two storm troopers aiming to fire at Davarax as he’s dealing with one of their comrades. “Dav. Let’s go.” She uses the internal communication system.

“It’s done?” His voice replies.

“It’s over.” Dulsissia deliberately does not look over at the fallen Macero. “Let’s go.”

“You got my back?”

“Always.”

Instantly barging towards the door, Davarax takes several hits to his armor, almost staggers due to the reduced efficiency of durasteel instead of beskar, but it’s not enough to stop him, and Dulsissia quickly makes her way over to cover their backs. He pushes forward for them to escape, she keeps them safe while he creates a path down the hallway.

Once they climb the stairs to the second floor of the ship, followed by troopers, Davarax makes a pleased sound when he sees the door Dulsissia had been talking about and sets course for it.

While it was the men of her family who got to be military officers, Dulsissia had spent plenty of time on imperial ships after Macero started to court her and she knows their lay out like the mansion on Seswenna. This door will lead outside, to a narrow path along the ship’s side originally meant to be used in case of repairs, but with the ship currently hovering inside the planet’s atmosphere; it is perfect as an escape route. And as more and more troopers join the ones already chasing them, they need one.

Davarax opens the door and a powerful gust of wind rushes in as they are high above ground. He looks back at her.

Dulsissia keeps firing her blaster at the stairway, forcing the storm troopers to duck down. “Go.”

Davarax nods, steps forward, vaults over the railing and disappears.

Grabbing a grenade from her belt, Dulsissia activates it and throws it down the stairs before going back to firing her blaster again. A trooper gets off a lucky shot that punches into her breastplate and while the durasteel is strong enough to prevent the shot from penetrating, it still hurts like dank farrik.

The explosion from the grenade causes enough chaos that Dulsissia dares to holster her blaster and make a run for it. She hears the troopers shouting, her HUD flashes a warning as a blaster shot goes by her head, but Dulsissia keeps running, climbs the railing in two steps and takes a leap of blind faith into the open air.

Gravity takes a hold. She falls and reaches out one hand. Despite her HUD frantically flashing that she’s in danger, Dulsissia feels no fear. Two seconds later, Davarax’ hand grabs her wrist and she instantly takes a hold of his, letting him pull her up so she can get her arms around his torso and he gets his other arm around her waist while his jetpack holds them steady and prevents them from plummeting to their deaths.

Behind them, seven storm troopers follow through the door and spread out along the pathway to aim their blasters and are about fire when twenty Mandalorians fly up from below the ship to aim their weapons back at the troopers.

“Your ground troops have already surrendered. I have Mandalorians infiltrating the ship as we speak. Do you want to follow your leader into the after life?” Bo-Katan asks them.

It doesn’t take long before the storm troopers cautiously lower their weapons and signal their surrender.

-

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?” Bo-Katan asks as they are loading up the final items to the Razor Crest. “I appreciate a warrior like you on my team. We might even be able to hunt down some more beskar.”

“I am grateful for you letting us stay, but it is time we move on now.” Davarax replies. “I think we all yearn for a little freedom. And you have an imp ship, a bunch of new weapons and enemies to get information out of. I’m sure you won’t have time to go beskar hunting any time soon.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” Bo-Katan declares.

Davarax nods and holds out his hand.

With a wry smile, she takes it. “At least you’re out from underground. There’s hope for you at least.”

“Careful, Lady Kryze.” Davarax says, releasing her hand. “My Covert’s determination and dedication is unmatched. Who knows, maybe one day the next Mandalor might come from there.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Bo-Katan says with mock-seriousness. She then glances over at where Dulsissia is smothering Corin, Din and Paz in a group-hug, trying to make them forgive her for refusing them to join in the fight. “She didn’t do too bad today. There might be hope for her too.”

“She’s Mandokarla.” Davarax declares with badly hidden pride.

Bo-Katan hums, clearly not entirely sold. “She talks too much.”

Laughing a little, Davarax heads over to the ship. “Goodbye, Lady Kryze.”

-

“Mom?” Standing in the cockpit of the Razor Crest as she is brought to life, Corin glances over at Dulsissia, and he looks so grown up and handsome in his armor that she wants to squeeze his face between her hands and plant kisses all over aforementioned face. “Where are we going now?”

Settling for reaching out and gingerly arranging a lock of his dark hair doing its best to poke up high enough to pick up a radio signal, Dulsissia smiles. “We’re going to visit someone.”

Din plots in the coordinates while Davarax has settled in the left passenger seat and is tinkering on his vambrace. The teen frowns as he sees what comes up and looks back at them. “Is this correct?”

Dulsissia’s smile widens. “Absolutely.”

Corin goes pale.

-

“So he’s dead?” Antonia Motti says as she enters her office. “Good. One less problem to deal with in this family.” She pauses as she sees the armored people in the room and gives one slow blink before she reaches up to her ear. “I will talk to you later.” Antonia switches off the device in her ear and lifts a dry eyebrow. “I don’t know how you lot managed to break in here, but I can assure you that you will never leave this place alive.”

Dulsissia removes her helmet and forces herself to smile. “Hello mother.”

Antonia doesn’t visibly react, merely scans her from top to toe and back up again. “You look awful.” She walks over to her desk and sits down, forcing Dulsissia to turn around to look at her. “I hear your husband is dead. I can’t say I shall mourn his absence.” “That makes two of us.” Dulsissia replies.

“Why are you here?” Antonia asks, keeping her calculating stare on her daughter and ignoring everyone else in the room. “Have you come to your senses and returned to stay? I will let your friends leave with a nice reward for bringing you home.”

Shaking her head, Dulsissia hangs on to her smile out of spite. “No. I’m not here to stay. I just stopped by to pick up some of my things before I leave for good.”

Antonia frowns a little, but she’s clearly not surprised. “You continue to disappoint me.” She sighs and shakes her head as if her daughter is a lost cause. “Where is my grandson?”

Dulsissia gestures to one of the figures.

Stepping forward, removing his helmet, Corin watches Antonia warily. “Hello.”

Antonia scans him as well and seems a little more pleased with what she sees. “No longer a timid child, but a young man. You’ve grown a lot since I saw you last, Corin.” She scans him again. “You don’t have to go with your mother, you know. If you want to, you can stay here, with me. As a Motti you will never starve, never lack for anything, and everyone will respect you.”

Corin swallows hard. “Thank you, but I’m going with them.”

Antonia makes a thoughtful hum. “That is a shame. But there is always a place for you here, Corin. Remember that.”

He nods.

Turning her attention back to Dulsissia, Antonia purses her lips with disdain. “So now what? You are going to traipse around the Galaxy looking like a half-wild woman? Dragging your innocent son with you. With these…” She waves a hand at the others. “People?”

“Yeah.” Dulsissia replies, with every bit as much arrogance as Antonia radiates. “I want him to experience what a real family feels like.” She puts her helmet back on and walks over to the door before she looks back at her mother again. “We’ll be leaving now. I suggest no one follows us.” Dulsissia hesitates before adding; “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“That’s a nice change as last time you just took off without a word.” Antonia snipes. “And don’t fool yourself, you will be back, Dulsissia. Without Macero, the lure of our world will bring you back.”

Realizing that her mother does not know her at all, Dulsissia huffs a soft laugh. “Goodbye.”

-

“Are are we landing?” Dulsissia was on her way up the ladder to the Razor Crest’s cockpit when Din appears and blocks her path. “It feels like we’re landing. Why are we landing?”

Din’s eyes flicker. “We, uh, the ship, it… “

“Repairs!” Raga shouts from above.

“Yeah!” Din latches on to it like the word is a life raft. “Repairs. We have to do some repairs.”

Dulsissia frowns. Repairs? There is nothing wrong with the ship. It was fully operational when they left Bo-Katan’s Covert and it hasn’t been in any combat or stressful situations since. 

She looks over at Barthor sitting on the seat next to the ladder, but he just shrugs and that puzzles her a little. Usually he is the first to pick up on odd stuff. But if he’s not worried, maybe she shouldn’t be either? “Okay…” Dulsissia draws out her reply, especially as Din is not budging, strategically placed so she won’t be able to get by him.

When she slowly withdraws, Din watches her with a smile so fake she could cry.

But Corin and Paz are still slouching in their seats in the cargo hold and also show no anxiousness or suspicion whatsoever, so Dulsissia reluctantly gets back in her seat.

Only then does Din disappear. But, she is willing to bet he’d pop up like a bill collector if she approaches the ladder again.

What is going on?

The Razor Crest shudders and shivers a little before they feel it touch ground and settle.

Dulsissia is first in line when the ramp starts to lower itself, doesn’t even wait for Davarax and the others to come down from the cockpit, too curious to see where they are.

The sight stuns her.

Walking down the ramp, Dulsissia studies the surroundings, overwhelmed by the beauty. And when she eventually steps off the ramp and her feet touch soft soil and carries her out among the endless ocean of flowers stretching out as far as her eyes can see, she can’t hold back a dazed laugh. It is so incredibly beautiful! Millions and millions of flowers covering the surface in every direction under the bright teal sky.

Her heart is racing, it’s almost difficult to breathe, and she can’t stop smiling. She has never seen anything like this. She didn’t know anything like this even existed.

A sound behind her reminds Dulsissia that she’s not alone and she turns around to how the others are reacting to this amazing view, but is hit by another heart-stopping sight when she sees Davarax standing there, the kids huddled together behind him, and he’s holding out both of his hands to offer her the most exquisite looking blaster she’s ever seen. 

The metal is shining silver, the design delicate and yet practical, and on the hilt is what has to be insanely expensive gem stones creating the shape of a beautiful plom bloom.

“Will you take the vows with me here?” Davarax asks, a little nervous and very hopeful.

Dulsissia has to cover her mouth with her hand for a second as her eyes well up with tears and an ugly bawl threatens to escape her lips. Once she feels she has herself back under control, despite some tears escaping as she tries to blink them away, Dulsissia nods. “Yes…”

“Yes?” Davarax dares to take a step closer.

Laughing and sobbing at the same time, Dulsissia nods. “Yes.” And she laughs and cries a little more when the kids break into loud cheers, numbly accepting the blaster and eagerly curls into the hug Davarax pulls her into.

She has to hold on to him, lean on him, for a moment or two, to once again regain some composure, but finally Dulsissia leans back and sniffles a little.

Davarax does his huff-laugh and gently wipes a tear away from her face. “You okay?”

She nods, taking a step away, wiping her face with her lower arm. “I’m fine.” Dulsissia awkwardly pats her hair and tries to shape it into something less wookiee-ish with one hand as she won’t let go of the blaster. “How do we…?”

Davarax takes her hand, makes her give up on her hair and focus on him. “You sure you want to do this? One. In this life and the next. Are you sure?”

Exhaling, grounding herself, Dulsissia meets his eyes with calm and soft happiness. “I am.”

Obviously relieved, Davarax nods. Then he has to take a breath before teaching her the words, one by one, what they mean both literally and spiritually, how they link to his Creed and what being married to a Mandalorian means.

Dulsissia listens, learns and decides this is all something she can accept and even embrace. It just feels right. She feels at peace as well as flushed with excitement that they are going to do this.

And them, amidst millions of flowers, with Corin, Din, Paz, Raga and Barthor as approving witnesses, Dulsissia and Davarax takes the vows.

Mhi solus tome. We are one together. Mhi solus dhar'tome. We are one when parted. Mhi me'dinui an. We share all. Mhi ba'juri verde. We will raise warriors.

For a moment, maybe it is just the bright sky playing tricks on her, Dulsissia could have sworn Davvarax’ eyes shimmer a little wet, but then he pulls her close and kisses her so sweetly she barely hears the kids cheering again.

They are on their fourth kiss when Dulsissia realizes the children are now running back and forth between them and the ship and a glance behind Davarax reveals they are setting up a celebration feast of sweets, cookies and other treats, carefully placed across a blanket on the ground.

She looks up at Davarax with a soft gasp. “You guys have planned this for ages!”

Davarax shrugs, trying to look guilty and failing because of the pleased smile on his lips. “I needed help to find the perfect place. And putting the blaster together. And getting the food. And… everything, really. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

Tearing up again, Dulsissia drags him down for a fifth kiss before dragging him over to the blanket. “Ooooh, this looks so nice!” She waves a finger at Barthor. “Make sure you put some aside for you, baby. Don’t make me angry on my wedding day.”

Barthor ducks his head down and makes a pleased and embarrassed huff. “Okay.”

They all settle down on the blanket. Raga slaps Paz over the fingers as he aims to grab the first cookie, declaring Dulsissia and Davarax gets to choose first. Sulking, he agrees.

Dulsissia makes sure not to touch the cookie he wanted. Davarax does the same. Which means she has to kiss him again.

“So…” Corin says, sitting on Davarax’ other side, not by his mother for once. “So now that you two are, like, married… With you married to my mom…”

Chewing on a cookie, Davarax glances over at him. “Mmh?”

“Does that mean I call you ‘Dad’ now?” Corin asks just as Davarax swallows.

Choking, coughing, wheezing, Davarax ends up grabbing a bottle of water and takes a swig from it, aware of how not only Corin, but everyone is looking at him. His spouse included. 

Lowering the bottle, Davarax gets rid of the final couple of coughs still lingering before putting the bottle down again and Davarax focuses on Corin to speak the truth. “That’s entirely up to you, Corin. If you want to call me that, I would be honoured. If you want to keep calling me ‘Davarax’, that is perfectly okay. This is your choice, not my decision, and I promise that whatever you choose is fine with me.”

Dulsissia discretely slides her hand over and takes a hold of Davarax’ hand between them.

Corin frowns as he looks down at the blanket, considering things. “I always wanted a dad. My father was… my father. I read about dads and they were not like him. Dads in the books were more like…” He glances back at Davarax. “They were like you. I would like to have a dad like you.”

“And I would be proud to have you as my son.” Davarax replies in a gentle voice.

Embarrassed but so very happy, Corin dives in and wraps his arms around Davarax.

Placing his own arm around Corin, hugging him close, Davarax then leans down and quietly murmurs: “Corin. Ni kar'tayli gai sa'ad “

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

10. Is something wrong?" And 11. “Is there anything I can do to help?” For boggie or rebuke

hey you know how i just sent you the mystery rebuke fic? yeah it turns out it was your ask that prompted it. anyway here you go apparently all i can write is rebuke cuddles on the studio couch.

you're the swimmer with pockets of stones | rebuke | G | 2.3k

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Bobby doesn't mean to let it show during practice. Usually, he's pretty good at keeping all this stuff under the surface, smoothed and hidden, layered over with a mixture of standoffishness and charm that tends to turn people in the other direction than whatever's going on for him internally.

Concerningly, he might be getting close enough to the boys that they can start to tell. This wasn't his intention, initially — the music thing has always been about gaining a reputation, some sort of following, maybe getting famous one day, and he really does believe in the music Luke Patterson writes, thinks it could really get them somewhere. But he didn't necessarily intend to get to know the members of the band like he has. Didn't expect for one of them to move into his studio, for sure,

It's not like he wasn't intending on getting to know them at all . It's just that he didn't anticipate how quickly Reggie would tilt his head, narrow his eyes, and ask, "Is something wrong?" when Bobby misses his entry spot for the fourth time in a row.

"No," Bobby barks, and it's a little sharp. Alex and Luke both give him equally sharp glares back. They all know they don't talk to Reggie like that. Immediately, Bobby amends, "Sorry, Reg. Just scattered today. Not your fault."

Not your fault . The mantra of apologising to Reggie. Swallowing and trying to take it on board (Bobby can see it, can see Reggie telling himself that it's okay, that Bobby didn't mean it, that not everything is his fault, that's why they always remind him, that everything's okay, over and over, because all these things show very easily on Reggie's face when you know where to look for them and how to read them) Reggie says lightly, "Yeah, no worries."

"We can try something else?" Alex suggests carefully, tone still crystal in a way that lets Bobby know he’s fucked up but Alex is choosing to let it slide. "Luke said he wanted to go over Long Weekend again before the gig on Friday."

"That's a good idea," Luke agrees. "We're more familiar with that one and besides, I just sorta wanted to see how this new song sounds out loud. We won't have it ready for Friday."

They totally could have it ready for Friday. Bobby knows he's being the weak link here.

So he tries extra hard for Long Weekend . Really does his best to nail all the timing, all the pitch, throws in a few improvisational notes just to make Luke grin over at him, delighted and surprised, because Luke might seem like a control freak but he actually loves to collaborate more than anything else in the world.

It just sucks that the rest of the rehearsal can't go as well as that does. Bobby fades in and out, his eyes scramble the music on the page, and before he knows it, Luke is calling things off, saying they can catch up tomorrow, that this isn't going to work itself out tonight, clearly .

It stings a little, but Luke's not wrong. Bobby, master of keeping his face neutral, can barely keep his eyes open even though he knows they're lying to him, even though he knows that he's going to be stuck wide awake the moment he lays his head back against anything and tries to sleep, because that's how it's been for weeks now.

The Mercers never let Alex stay over any more, not since he came out (and it sucks, and Bobby kinda hates them even though he and Alex aren’t all that close), so he packs up his sticks and the homework books he'd left scattered in the corner ready to head home. Alex says his goodbyes mostly like normal, though his eyes linger on Bobby, narrow and a little too insightful for Bobby’s liking.

Bobby replies, and to his own ears he sounds pretty normal, which is why he doesn't understand when Reggie and Luke exchange glances over the top of Bobby's head as soon as Alex is gone.

“What’s gotten into you, man?” Luke asks, ditching his guitar in favour of sitting cross-legged on top of the table in the centre of the room, across from where Bobby sits on the couch. “You’ve been acting kinda weird for a while, but this is a new level of weird.”

“I’m fine,” Bobby grits out. He feels cornered, the way that Luke is sitting there, and Reggie’s hovering awkwardly between Bobby and the door, hands behind his head, probably stretching out his fingers if Bobby knows him well enough, which he does.

How did he end up knowing them so well? And why are they pushing so hard to find out what’s going on with him? He hates this conversation. He wants it to be over.

He wants to sleep.

“Dude,” says Reggie quietly, “you weren’t acting like yourself at all today. Like, yourself is always a little weird,” he says, like a joke, but he looks a little scared, like he might be stepping over the line. But it’s Reggie, so Bobby allows it.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to us about it,” adds Luke hopefully. “We’re your friends.”

“Right,” Bobby says, rubbing his eyes, “because you’re so honest with us about everything, is that it?”

“Well – hey, that doesn’t seem fair,” Reggie interrupts, tone a little protective. “We’re not talking about Luke right now. If we want to stage a Luke-tervention later, we can, but—”

“A what?” Luke says, baffled.

“Like an intervention,” Reggie explains, in an exasperated tone, like this really should be obvious, “but for you.”

“Oh,” says Luke, nodding like that actually did clear it up.

They’re idiots. Bobby wishes they weren’t making him smile. Maybe he’s just delirious. He listens to them banter for a few more minutes and feels himself slipping, feels the way the room is spinning a bit around him. Knows he won’t be able to sleep, feels it in the ache in his body, but it hurts anyway, how bad he wants it. How much he wants to be able to reach behind the veil and pull the sleep to him, pull it over him like a blanket.

His bandmates are suddenly on either side of him, like they’re ready to catch him if he falls, Reggie’s voice cautious as he says, “Bobby? You good, man? You looked woozy for a sec.”

"Tired," is all Bobby manages. His voice comes out a little strangled.

"Yeah," says Luke, in a sort of punched-out voice that makes Bobby think Luke understood more than Bobby meant him to. “We know.”

How do they know? Bobby hasn’t told them. He hasn’t told anyone. It’s just been him and his empty room and the ceiling staring back down at him for hours, until he gives up, gets up and switches the lights on and tries to read, tries to write music, tries to do anything. Though honestly, lately he’s been too tired even for that. Too exhausted and frantic to do anything but stare at the roof and wish it would fall on him and knock him out, send him down into the black lake of sleep where he so desperately wants to drown. But he hasn’t told Luke or Reggie about any of that.

"We want to help, man," Reggie continues, almost painfully earnest and sweet, "Is there anything we can do?"

Bobby shakes his head no before he's even let himself process Reggie's words, because help and Bobby are only things that go together when Bobby's doing the helping, not the other way around.

Without even opening his eyes, Bobby feels Luke push Bobby's arm up so Luke can snuggle up against his side, resting his cheek on Bobby's shoulder, stubborn and warm and soft. Seemingly following his initiative, Reggie loops himself around Bobby's other side, a little gangly but just as safe, tucking Bobby's head under his chin instead.

"Does this make it better?" Luke asks, in a small voice. Bobby feels his throat move, the vibrations of his voice. "Or, uh, or worse?"

Bobby goes to say neither, to say, it doesn't matter, to say, you guys will sleep better without me here taking up all this space . To say, I should go to my own room . But he doesn't say any of those things, because having them so close and warm around him is sorta making him want to cry, in a really weird, horrible, overflowing way, like he's a bathtub filling up with tears and they're reaching his throat, not too far from reaching his eyes.

"Better," Reggie decides for him. Takes the weight off his shoulders. "C'mon, Luke, let's go to bed. Bobby can just lie here until he feels better."

Luke makes an affirmative sound, pulls the blanket back up over the three of them, and Bobby feels like he's sinking deep in his own achy, exhausted body, like he's finally letting it overcome him, like suddenly instead of being the bathtub, he's just in one, and he's letting his head slip under the water, letting it engulf him. Reggie runs a hand through Bobby's hair, light and gentle, and Bobby sinks deeper. Luke wraps an arm around Bobby's stomach, fingers squeezing at Bobby's waist, and Bobby sinks deeper.

Instead of lying awake for hours until his eyes burn and his teeth ache, he's asleep without being sure when it happens.

—

When he wakes, Reggie and Luke pushed in on either side of him still, wrapped even more tightly than he remembers them being the night before, he feels unbelievably light, even with their weight pressing in all over him. He feels like his eyelids weigh ten pounds less than they did the day before, even as his body succumbs to being part of the couch cushions, even as a yawn pulls at the edge of his mouth and suggests to him that maybe, they try to sleep for just a few more minutes.

—

Bobby wakes again when the sun starts to spill in properly through the garage window at the back, illuminating the studio and casting their instruments into bright colours and dark shadowy relief across the floor. This time, he's only being restrained by all four of Luke's limbs, somehow, like their genius songwriter has decided to abandon his pursuit of music for the better pursuit of fully transforming into a koala bear. For a few moments, blinking and looking around, Bobby can't see Reggie anywhere.

It doesn't really alarm him, though. It's not like there's anyone else around, and Reggie's always been an earlier riser than him or Luke, more spritely than the rest of them. Luke’s still snoring, has drooled a tiny bit on Bobby’s t-shirt. Bobby should probably be more grossed-out by it than he is.

Before he can start to theorise about where, exactly, Reggie might have gone, he’s already returning, nudging the door open with his hip because his arms are full. He gives Bobby a big grin, as usual far too awake for the hour (Bobby doesn’t think he’s been that awake at any hour, recently).

“Aw, man. I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer, but… I brought us breakfast?”

Reggie must have gone up to the house, which means he probably would have had to talk to Bobby’s parents, at least his mom. Bobby’s stomach twists in embarrassment at the thought, not of Reggie, but of his mom, her scattered workaholic brain probably so far from being able to handle a conversation with a sweet kid like Reggie first thing in the morning. But still, Reggie’s carrying plates that have toast and jam, and he’s got a big bottle of orange juice, and he looks so proud of himself, like a little kid with a picture they want you to put on the fridge.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bobby says, his voice still hoarse from sleep, but sounding better than it did at any point yesterday. He must have gotten more sleep just last night than he did in the five nights beforehand.

“I know,” says Reggie brightly, setting the plates and bottle down on the table across from the pullout, “but that’s what friends are for, right?”

Huh. Friends. That’s one way to put it, Bobby guesses. In his head they’ve just been – bandmates, always, but – he guesses if Luke and Reggie are snuggling up to him overnight, hanging out at his place on days when they’re not doing music, if Reggie’s casually chatting to his mom –

Maybe they are friends.

He looks down at the toast. Reggie’s spread the jam almost neurotically evenly, but on one piece he’s drawn a wonky smiley face, with two circle eyes and a big stripe of jam in a curve that mirrors their band logo for the smile. It looks vaguely demented, but Reggie grins and points and says, “That one’s for you. So you’ll be in a better mood today.”

Luke yawns, stretches and wriggles, squishing Bobby a little bit in the process with his warm limbs. Bobby looks from one to the other, from Reggie’s face to Luke’s body curled up against him, and suddenly his stomach is full of something that’s a little more concerning than just the sense of being friends unexpectedly. Something different.

Bobby sighs a breath out quietly to try and shake off the feeling, and Reggie grins, like he gets something, which is nerve wracking until he says, “You don’t wanna move, right? I can feed you so you don’t have to get up!”

Honestly, Bobby would really rather Reggie didn’t, after the possibly concerning revelation he had moments ago, so he shoves Luke maybe a little harder than he needed to, ignores Luke’s startled yelp, even though it makes him want to laugh and the want to laugh makes the fluttery feeling come back to his stomach. Rather than laughing, or showing any of his feelings, Bobby just mutters, getoffme , and sits up to grab a piece of toast. He'll deal with everything else after breakfast.

(He takes the smiley face piece. He’s not a monster).

[rubysunnday]

Long post ahead, people

It's all happening this week! I've reached 3.3k, emptied my inbox and got into university! So, in honour of everything being fantastic, I'm opening my requests once again!

I've made a list of 25 prompts below - giving myself some variety unlike last time where I did the same prompt three different times - and you can request as many prompts as you like! You can also send in more than one request!

Oh, please be aware that I am starting a new job come Friday. It's an afternoon/evening job so my mornings are free but requests will, inevitably, be slow as I get used to working again!

Anyhoo, the 25 prompts are below and, once again, I only write for Bridgerton and Shadow and Bone at the moment! If you don't watch any of those but still want a request, just pick a prompt and tell me to have free rein (haha, freddy's horse show) with it!

Prompts

1) "All these people are alive and in this room because of her."

2) "Love often disguises the pain of being in love with someone you can never have."

3) "Why would you choose me?" "Why wouldn't I choose you?"

4) "Listen, the shorter the person the more rage inside them. So, don't piss me off."

5) "Is he fighting or dancing?" "It's hard to tell... I'm going for upset pigeon."

6) "I'm sorry, you want to what?" "Run..." "What, in the name of all that is holy, is running?"

7) "Hey, look at me. Look at me." "I'm... I'm looking." "Good. Just stay with me a bit longer. We'll be fine."

8) "Look, I know that your aesthetic is doom and gloom but would it kill you to put a light on? I'm tired of walking in and injuring myself."

9) "I'm surprised at how neat your stitching is." "Well, skin is different to clothing so, there is that." "You sew your clothes?!" "I love that that's what you took from that."

10) "The darkest hour is always just before dawn." "Good, because I don't want to die without seeing the sun once more."

11) "Your face is just so punchable sometimes. Like now. Especially now."

12) "The ache never really goes away. You just learn to cope with it. And when it threatens to drown you again... you rely on someone else to keep you floating."

13) "Go back to sleep. I'm not going anywhere, ok?"

14) "I... I am actually speechless." "In a good way -" "No, no, bad way. Very bad way!"

15) "If you'd known what I was... who I was... would you have still saved me?"

16) "This is a terrible idea." "I know, which is why it'll work. The worst ideas are often the best." "No, they are not!"

17) "You don't have to stay." "I know. I want to." "Thank you."

18) "There's a crow following you." "Sorrow." "I'm sorry, what?" "A single crow is sorrow. Hence why I named it Sorrow."

19) "There's an alive person in the storage room." "Why alive person and not just... person?" "I thought it important to establish their status since they're usually dead."

20) "Are you flirting with me?" "At last! You noticed! Only took you a few years." "A few years?!"

21) "Hello, love, do you come here a lot?" "I work here. So, yes. Unfortunately."

22) "Look, I don't know what's wrong, alright? I'm just tired and overwhelmed and... everything is just a bit too much right now. Also, if you yell at me I will cry so indoor voice only."

23) "I know you don't trust me, which is fine, I understand. But no one should be alone when they're reliving their worst traumas. So, I'm going to sit here and whenever you are ready... I'll be there."

24) "Shit, I think I'm in love with him." "Oh, at last! What gave it away? The blushing, the acting like a fool around him - the fact he held your hand and you nearly fainted?"

25) "Should I be concerned?" "Probably." "Are you concerned?" "I would be but, to be honest, I'm beyond caring."

tagging mooottttssss: @smallheathgangsters @lotsoflovefromlea @maggiescarborough @magpiencrow @buckystarlight @promenadewithme @musicallisto @lxncelot @ladydaemon @murswrites

[heylookafanfic]

Title: What Could Go Wrong?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!Reader, 

brief summary: With your dad, Aaron Hotchner, being the BAU unit chief, he did whatever he could to protect you. When you get invited to a party for the first time, sneaking out doesn’t sound so bad. What could go wrong?

word count: 3,706 words

requested: Nope, original! (send in those requests!) 

warnings: cursing, getting roofied, getting yelled at, predatory men

Your dad, Aaron Hotchner, was extremely protective over you not only because his job can put you and your brother, Jack, in danger but he already lost a family member and refused to lose another. Having an overprotective father meant you had a list of rules.

The door was to remain completely open when your significant other came over and no sitting/laying on the bed

No leaving the house after sundown

You can’t sleep over at anyone's house, they had to sleep over at your house

You have to ask to go somewhere

If your dad wasn’t home and the doorbell rang, you couldn’t answer it

And that is just the surface. You understood why your dad was so strict but you never got to have a life. To make things worse, your friends always post pictures from parties on Instagram and all you could do is sigh and keep scrolling knowing you’ll never get to go to one.

One day, you were in communications class listening to the professor lecturing about the upcoming semester project. Luckily, you got to pick your group for it and when they dismissed the class to find partners, you quickly turned to your best friend,Vanessa.

“I guess we’re partners, huh?” you chuckled

“Of course!” she said

“So, what do you want to make our project about?”

“I have no idea. I barely paid attention this chapter”

“Try to think out of the box a bit. What’s gonna make ours stand out?”

“Since the class is about communications, how about human interaction?”

“What about it?”

“Like how you haven't had any human interaction lately” she said with a smirk

“You know my dads strict. I can’t even breathe without him being on edge” you said

“You need to live a little Y/N. You’re in college and you’re still being treated like a kid.”

“I know, I know but I don’t know how to convince him to let up a bit”

“Here’s the thing, I’m going to a friend's kickback tomorrow night. This is your chance to finally hang out with someone who isn’t me, Jack or your dad ”

“He’s gonna say no regardless even if I tell him that you’re going with me.” you said

“I’m not saying to sneak out but...” she said with a shrug

“You know he has cameras around the entire perimeter of the house, right?”

“Just say you’re sleeping over at my house”

“Can’t do that either, remember? All sleepovers have to happen at my house”

“I understand having to be cautious because your dads in the FBI but doesn’t he realize that you’re in college?”

You thought about it for a second.

“That’s it! How about you sleep over but I’ll say that you forgot your meds. That’ll give us an excuse to leave”

“Won’t he be suspicious though?”

“Probably not. He trusts you out of all of my friends”

“You’ve got a point. What time am I coming over?”

“What time does the kickback start?”

“9 pm”

“Come over at 7. We’ll be finishing up dinner and it’ll give us time to get ready”

“Awesome”

The both of you packed your backpacks and went home. This would be the first time you’d be sneaking out and you were pretty nervous because so many things could go wrong but you’re with your best friend so, what could possibly go wrong?

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

*Hotchner Household- The next day*

You were in your room finishing up your psychology homework when your dad called you and Jack down for dinner

“Y/N and Jack, come down for dinner” he yelled from the kitchen

“I’m almost done! Give me two more minutes!” you shouted

“Come down now before it gets cold”

You sighed and closed your laptop. As you were walking out of your room, you saw Jack coming down the hall.

“I’ll race you to the dinner table. Loser has to wash dishes tonight” you challenged

“You’re gonna lose like you did last time” he said

“That’s only because you pushed me, short stuff” you chuckled

“I won fair and square though, didn’t I?”

“Anyway…ready, set, go!”

The both of you raced down the hallway and downstairs. Your dad heard all the stomping and already knew what was up. You lightly pushed Jack and he tumbled towards the couch by the living room. Your dad had his hands out by his sides, waiting to see who would finish 1st. You ran and tagged in, winning.

“You pushed me!” Jack complained

“I won fair and square though, didn’t I?” you chuckled

“Dad, Y/N cheated and they said that I’d have to wash dishes after dinner”

“Karmas a bit-” you were cut off

“Enough you two. Go wash your hands and make your plate” your dad said

*During dinner*

“So, how was everybody’s day?” he asked

“I found out that we’re dissecting a frog in class next week” Jack said

“They still do that?” he asked

“Yeah, everyone in my class thinks it’s cool but I’m not looking forward to it”

“Why is that?”

“Because, it’s gross. I asked if I could do an extra credit project instead but my teacher said no”

“Sorry bud. How about you Y/N? How was your day?”

“It was okay. We were assigned a group project yesterday so Vanessas coming over later to study. Is that cool?”

“Which Vanessa?”

“Dad. You’re kidding, right? The same Vanessa I’ve been best friends with since kindergarten?”

“Oh, her. Yeah, she can come over. What’s your project about?”

“It’s a research slideshow about human interaction”

“If you have time, you should drop by the office and ask your aunts and uncles for help. Especially your uncle Spencer. He’ll tell you everything you need to know; easy A” he said

Suddenly, his phone chimed.

“Work?” you and Jack ask

Your dad shook his head and took one last sip of his drink before getting up from the table. He was running around the house grabbing his go bag and work essentials.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back but if I’m not back later tonight, Y/N you know the drill” he said

“Close and lock all doors and windows, don’t answer the door, Jack is to be in bed by 9:30 and lights out at 11” you recited

“And Jack?”

“No video games or TV until homework is done and Y/N is in charge” he groaned

“Good. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Vanessa is the only one permitted in the house. Understood?”

“Yes sir”

“Alright, bye! I love you two!” he said

Your dad rushed out the door, hopped in the car and sped off to work. Your dad pretty much being on call can be annoying sometimes because he’s usually away for a few days and misses out on family time. Usually, it’s a bummer but tonight, it was working in your favor.

“Now what?” Jack asked

“How about we finish up dinner and I’ll help you with your homework so you can have the rest of the night to yourself?”

“Sweet!” he responded

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

*Later that night*

Vanessa had already been at your house for 2 hours and while Jack was getting ready for bed, you were about to leave for the kickback.

“What time did you say your little brother goes to bed?” Vanessa asked

“9:30”

She sighed

“We’re going to be late by then. Can’t we leave earlier?”

“We can’t. If I’m not here to make sure he’s asleep, he’ll be up all night”

“Jacks like what, 10? He’ll be fine. Plus, it’s a Friday night. It’s not like he has school tomorrow.”

You gave it a second thought. Jack is old enough to put himself to bed and the party wasn’t going to be worth going to if you were late.

“Fine. Give me a second and then we can go” you said

You walked down the hall to Jack’s room and knocked.

“Come in” he answered

“Hey bud, are you almost ready for bed?” you asked

“Yeah, I gotta brush my teeth though.”

“Listen, Vanessa and I are going out for a bit tonight. Would you be okay if you were by yourself for a few hours?”

“You can’t leave! Remember what Dad said? ‘No leaving the house after sundown’ ?”

“I know, I know but it’s only for tonight and since Dad’s out at work, I’ll let you stay up and play video games until I get back”

“Won’t we get in trouble? If he finds out, we’re gonna be grounded”

“He won’t find out unless we tell him….which we won’t. Right?”

Jack thought the situation through for a second.

“Right” he said

“Cool. Vanessa and I are leaving in about 5 minutes. Rules still apply to you though. I don’t care who rings the doorbell. If it’s not me or Dad, don’t answer it. Understood?”

“Yeah”

“Alright, all the doors and windows are locked so you’re safe here as long as they stay closed. I’ll be back in a few hours. Love you!” you said

“Love you too!” Jack responded

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

*At the kickback*

This was your first time sneaking out of the house and honestly, you didn’t think your plan would work. You thought that by now you’d be at home getting an earful from your dad because you got caught but, what perfect timing?! Your dad getting called into work the same night?! It’s actually kind of funny how things work out. What could go wrong?

You and Vanessa pulled up to the party and parked in the driveway

“You ready Y/N?” she asked

“Yeah. I just can't believe our plan actually worked”

“I know right? You’re old man needs to let you live a little. You deserve to enjoy your youth. Now c’mon”

As you two walk in, loud music blares from the speaker and there’s people everywhere. Beer cans on the floor and furniture, red solo cups spewed about the floor, the smell of weed in the air and you can tell every guy is wearing cheap cologne because of how musky it is. You thought parties like this only existed in movies.

You knew a few people but due to not being the biggest social butterfly, you decided to cling to Vanessa all night.

“Y/N, this is my old theatre buddy, Vaughn. Vaughn, this is my best friend Y/N!”

“Hey, nice to meet you!” he welcomed

“Nice to meet you too!”

“Vanessas told me all about you”

“She has?”

“Yeah! Best friends since kindergarten?! You two go way back”

“Definitely!”

“This is actually Y/N’s first kickback!” Vanessa chimed in

“Your first? You’ve never been to a party?”

“Not really, my dad’s very overprotective so I never get the chance to really hang out”

“What changed his mind?”

“Actually, he’s out of town at the moment so, he doesn’t even know”

“Ahhh, sneaky you!” he chuckled

“Hey, I’m gonna go get a drink really quick. You guys want anything?” Vanessa asked

“I’m good but thanks” you said

“I’ll go with you” Vaughn said

“Y/N, I’ll be right back but in the meanwhile, go get out of your comfort zone a bit” she said

“Nice meeting you….”

“Y/N” you said

“Y/N! Right. I’ll see you later” Vaughn said

Vanessa and Vaughn made off into the kitchen and that left you to your own devices. You still weren’t comfortable enough to go and be social so you made your way to the couch. Luckily, you spotted the host’s dog and whistled at it. It trotted over to you and jumped up into your lap. This would be your comfort zone for the rest of the night.

*An hour later*

The host's dog had surprisingly fallen asleep while you scrolled through your phone. You weren’t gonna lie. You were sort of envious that it could sleep through all the noise. As you continued scrolling you noticed someone heading your way.

“Is anyone sitting here?” a voice asked

You looked up to see a tall figure with broad shoulders.

“Uh, no. You’re good to sit”

“Thanks” he said

You resumed scrolling on your phone

“Nice dog” he said making small talk

“I’d say thanks but it’s not mine. It just curled up next to me and fell asleep” you spoke

“With all this noise?”

“Exactly what I’m saying!” you chuckled

“I’d kill to be a heavy sleeper” he said

“If only, right?!”

You two sat in silence for a second

“I’m Brady”

“Y/N”

“Nice to meet you. So, how’d you find out about the kickback?”

“My friend is friends with the host so she invited me”

“That’s a good friend!”

“Yeah, this is my first party actually”

“Really? How?”

“Overprotective parent”

“Ah, I know your struggle. Well, if you don’t mind, how ‘bout we drink to that?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks!”

“What’s your poison?” he asked

“I’ll take a beer please”

“A beer? Ooh, so you like to play it safe huh? I’ll be right back”

Brady got up and walked into the kitchen. You were actually excited because not only is this your first party but someone came up to you instead of the other way around.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” a voice said

You turned your head and it was Vanessa

“What took you so long?”

“I was getting a drink, remember?”

“It took you a whole hour, 60 MINUTES, to get a drink and find me?!” you joked

“This place is huge”

“It’s a condo ‘Nessa”

“Anyway, you’ve been sitting by yourself this whole time? I thought I told you to go and socialize!”

“I did! I met this guy, Brady, and he’s getting us drinks”

“Oooo! I know you had a little game in that beautiful brain somewhere. Well, let me go before I ruin your moment. I’ll be in the living room if you need me” she said

Vanessa ran off again. Just as she left, Brady came back with drinks.

“Una cerveza for the party virgin” he said

“What?” you chuckled

“One beer like you asked” he chuckled

“Oh, thank you!”

“To your first party and to many more” he toasted

You two clanked your cups together and took a swig

“For someone who seems to be so sheltered, you sure downed it with no problem” he said

“Well, my Uncle Dave is italian so everytime we go to his house, he cohearses my dad into letting me have a little wine. He says the drinking age in Italy is 16 so, why not?” you chuckled

“Lemme guess, he’s the crazy relative in the family?”

“No, that’d be my aunt Penelope but he’s a close second”

The two of you talked about family, your dream career and your taste in music for about an hour. You were starting to think that maybe it was a good idea to sneak out. You would have never met Brady and the more you found out about him, the more you started catching feelings for him. Or maybe that was the beer talking. Speaking of beer, you were starting to think that that beer didn’t sit right with you. You started feeling dizzy and sick to your stomach.

“Hey Brady, I gotta go talk to my friend really quick but I promise I’ll be right back”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not feeling the best”

“Do you want some water?” he asked

“I’m fine. I need to find Vanessa though”

You stood up and immediately sat back down

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to lay down?” he asked

“I’m fine” you said

You didn’t notice but you started slurring your words. Things were going downhill and fast. Brady didn’t….no, he couldn’t have. Things were going so well with him and you thought you could trust him. He couldn’t have possibly done that to you. You couldn’t yell for Vanessa over the loud music let alone stand up without falling over. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“Come on. I’ll take you to one of the bedrooms and you can lay down there until you feel better” Brady said

Fuck. You knew what you wanted to say but you couldn’t speak without slurring your words. Everything you said came out as incoherent. Brady stood up and helped you stand up, using him as a support. He started walking you towards the back until you felt a hand yank your hand

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” a voice yelled

Vanessa. Wait.. the voice was masculine.

Vaughn.

“I’m just helping them lay down. They’re tired” Brady said

“Leave them the fuck alone” Vaughn said sternly

“Mind your business dude” Brady retorted

“I know them so it is my business. I’m not going to tell you again. Leave them the fuck alone”

Brady dropped you but Vaughn quickly caught the rest of your body.

“Have fun with them, douchebag” Brady stormed off

Vaughn fireman carried you into the living room and sat you down

“Hey Y/N. It’s Vaughn. Are you okay?” he asked caringly

“Mmmrrmgh” you slurred

Shit.

“I’m gonna get Vanessa. I promise I’ll be right back, okay?” he said

Your head lulled around and you couldn’t move your limbs. All your energy was draining. This made him panic. As he tried to get you to squeeze his hand to get a response out of you, everything faded to black.

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

*45 minutes later*

You woke up but everything was blurry and everything sounded muffled. You were laying down but your sickness was worse because you were being jostled around.

“There they are. Hey sweetheart. Sir-” a voice said

You looked up and saw a dark figure. Your head was on someone's lap.

“Y/N? Come on sweetheart, keep your eyes open for me” the voice said

You took a few shallow breaths before attempting to sit up

“No no, stay still, okay?”

That voice was way too familiar and it made you feel at ease. There was only one person that could clear the clouds out on a rainy day with just their voice

“Aunt Penelope?” you softly spoke

“At your service!” she said

“Y/N?” another voice said

“Dad” you cried

“How’re they doing?”

“They opened their eyes a bit and heart rate is still pretty high but they’re stable” Penelope sighed with relief

“Dad? What’s happening?”

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

You nodded your head.

“That’s an affirmative” Penelope relayed

”Listen, we’re heading to the hospital right now. You were drugged and you stopped breathing. We’re almost there so just hold on for me, okay?” he said

His voice was borderline quivering. He was scared but wanted to stay strong for you and the team. He already lost Hailey and lord forbid he was going to lose you too

Penelope rolled the window down a bit  so you could get some air but right before she could touch the button, your eyes closed again.

“Sir-”

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

*At the hospital*

You opened your eyes and saw a handful of blobs that got clearer as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“There they are!” said Rossi

“It’s about time” said JJ

“You were scared us for a second there, kid” said Morgan

Your whole family was there, excited for you to finally pull through

“Y/N!” Jack said excited

He hugged you and you had no choice but to hug him tighter. On any other day you’d be wrestling him for the remote but considering what happened to you tonight, you needed a hug from him

“For the record, I didn’t tell dad” he stated

Everyone laughed

“I got you lavender and chamomile tea, your favorite” Reid said popping his head in

“Uncle Spence!” you said

As you grabbed your tea, you saw your dad out the corner of your eye. Uh oh.

“Can we have a moment, please?” your dad asked

Everyone filed out and the door closed. He walked over to the blinds to close them.

“How’d you find out?” you softly asked

“Vanessa called me practically screaming that you were dead! You’re lucky that the case we’re working is local! What were you thinking?! You lied to me, waited until I left the house to sneak out to a party and thought ‘what could go wrong?’ ?!” he raised his voice

“Dad, I’m-”

“What? You’re sorry?! Y/N, before we got there, you died in Vanessa’s arms! How do you think I felt? I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I had to push my way through a bunch of teens just to find my kid dead”

“What do you want me to say dad? I’m sorry that you’re still dealing with trauma from mom dying, so much so that you’ve become a helicopter parent over Jack and I? If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s not my fault that she’s dead. ”

The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know”

Your dad started tearing up

“When I saw your body laying there, all I could see is your mom all over again. I was afraid that I’d have to tell Jack that his only sibling is gone, plan another funeral, and spend a lifetime beating myself up for not being there quick enough.”

“Dad, it wasn’t your fault though. It’s Foyet’s. He’s long gone now and you did what you could. This? This was my fault. I never should have snuck out. I never should have lied to you. Had I listened, none of this would have happened”

“None of this is your fault. It’s whoever did this to you’s fault.  The sneaking out part, I would have found out eventually and you would’ve been grounded until eternity but to find out this way? I could care less about punishment right now, all I care about is that the Hotchner kids are safe. The BAU might be my job but being a dad comes before anything”

He hugged you and squeezed you tightly.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know Y/N. Don’t you ever scare me like that again”

“Yes sir and I love you too”

A knock came from the door before being slightly opened

“Garcia wanted me to let you know that Quantico PD has the perp in custody and he’s being processed at the station” Prentiss softly said

“You hear that?” your dad said

You smiled

“I get to have a field day with him tomorrow. He has no idea what he has coming to him”