#sniper has something wrong with him and desperately needs to watch the love of his life fuck their mutual best friend as often as possible

[mansplainmanipulatemalewife]

ur fave ship rn for the fucked up ship bingo go

Well lately I've gotten obsessed with a very niche and specific soldier/sniper/pyro tf2 dynamic

[gremlingottoosilly]

"If you need to be mean"

Konig just got his promotion to colonel. It also came with deployment in a terrorist-ridden country, but at least he would get an adorable, civilian you as a prize. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig perspective Word count: 5213 My AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

König hates this fucking country.

Shithole in the middle of nowhere, with literally nothing going on – some border quarrels with some terrorists that are desperately trying to settle into the big war on terror that won’t achieve a thing and would be meaningless anyway. No one wanted to actually station here – this is why they promoted him so quickly, just so they could send him away like a pack of garbage they can’t give two shit about throwing out. 

He never even wanted this promotion. Too much work, too many people, never enough time to relax. Payment is sweet, of course – if he only had time to use any of this. He is too old for new titles, you can’t teach old dog new tricks – and, quite frankly, he does feel terribly old while doing nothing but pushing papers and listening to some useless fucking recruits with their reports. 

Job is simple – stay on the base, make sure that the locals won’t become too villifed to the soldiers that are supposed to protect them, even though he already knows how people would feel about the PMC stationed in their city. Fights with occasional resistance from the outsider force that decided “Hey, let’s just annex our neighbor, what could possibly happen?”. He doesn’t know a lot about this country – but if they have enough money to hire KorTac to help the local forces, he might be quite interested. If he only had energy for that anymore – between relentless paperwork and occasional yelling at his stupid fucking nonsense of rookie – seriously, it feels like they hired a bunch of edgy 12 year olds instead of normal soldiers. 

Job is simple and he finds himself bored to death because this isn’t what he enlisted for. He wanted to fight, to kill, to burden this urge to hurt people who once wronged him with someone who is – probably, maybe, somehow – deserve it. Not really a noble cause, but he stopped playing knight in shining armor once they used him as an infiltration weapon instead of what he actually wanted. All hopes and goals in his life were buried deep with his first sniper rifle – and rude comments about his inability to sit still, even though he is still as good at being a killing machine as a human being possibly can. 

— Sir! We, uh, have a problem to report. 

Gut. 

A problem – this sounds as exciting as it can be. Last time his brigade got a problem, it was about some new recruits falling down with stomach ache because of the forged alcohol they were drinking. Also that one time someone tried to burst their way into the base – not fun, since officers took care of him, but it was at least something to do except for reading and scrolling through various housing options like he actually has a use of buying something with more than one bedroom. Like someone would look at him and love him – enough to pass through some easy fling and start living with him. No one would do that – even his parents couldn’t. 

Still, the problem sounds exciting. Maybe, he could actually go on a mission instead of feeling useless. They promoted him just to pin on the wall like a trophy.

— Repost immediately, soldier. What is it? 

— A civilian, well…a civillina woman…lady, broke the curfew. 

And here it is. Not an unexpected attack from his enemies, not even a drunken fight that someone from his subordinates decided to join and ended up getting their asses kicked. Is this what years of service come to? Watching over some stupid club girls broking the easiest fucking rule to follow, like getting home at midnight is a completely alien experience for them. One of the things he hates about his rank – he is used like a public figure, giving speeches, trying so hard to come up with something other than “Ja, we will kick asses of everyone who tries to infiltrate your country, don’t worry” and then he has to act like he knows what he is doing. Which he obviously doesn’t. If there was a way to just give up his rank and become a shadow again, a monster under a terrorist’s bed, he would do it. Without even a second to think. 

— Send her to the police. We aren’t supposed to deal with…

Then comes the second guy – he doesn’t even remember his name, fuck this, he is supposed to be a father to his troops, or big brother at least, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck to someone weaker – inferior, smaller, someone who will die within a week or so in his first battle because apparently, higher-ups just love recruiting spineless teenagers now. 

Second guy comes to the room, holding someone very firmly by their hand – and König isn’t religious, he isn’t even sure when was the last time he was at any church, the little prayers his grandma used to sing is long forgotten for him, but he sees your face and almost believes in angels. 

König is too old for this shit, again, he hates this country, his team, his rank – then he looks at your face, the way it twists with fear and nervousness because of course, one of his dumb subordinates is holding you too tight and the softness of your flesh – why in the world you are wearing such light clothes, it’s night outside, you will catch a cold and he would give you his jacket, but that would drown you under the weight of it, and he don’t want you to smell the alcohol he has on his clothes, terrible coping mechanism with boredom, and he might just give you something else, maybe, like his shirt or a…

Wait a minute. 

He doesn’t even know your name, even though he is sure this is something gorgeous and would look perfect next to his last name, but he looks at your face and all the years of his military training is suddenly washed away because he can’t even muster a thing out of his mouth. Thank god no one is forcing him to stop wearing his hood – he wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise, not with how hot his face feels right now. You are nervous, this is obvious, since you broke the curfew and went on the streets past 11 pm. He should just bring you to the police, he isn’t even sure why his soldiers would bring some random civilian to the base. He immediately wants to give this private a raise – for bringing him a goddess walking on Earth. Angel, succubus, all of the fancy names and…it feels like he is going crazy. And he should compose himself. Be a good example of a rotten mercenary commander. 

— Why were you breaking the curfew, miss..?

He hates how squeaky his voice sounds, even after all the years in service he can’t get rid of that boyish tone and nervousness every time he is talking to women. All the fear is immediately washed away after you tell him your name – and it’s gorgeous, perfect, feels like something he can devour, something he can moan in the depth of the night while using his hand as a poor substitute for the warmth of your body. 

The pause lingers too much and he already suggests just…taking you. To further investigation. to see if you are really just an innocent person caught up in breaking the rules or an enemy spy – which would give him the perfect opportunity to interrogate you and hold you for a bit longer. He wants you to be a problem, actually – that would give him the authority to hold you here, to think about you in a way that won’t immediately make him a bad person. 

— Went to the pharmacy. Forgot about the time, I’m…I’m sorry. 

You look guilty and weak and nervous obviously – a good girl caught up in the reality of her home country now implementing new rules just so it won’t get annexed by their neighbor. He wants to protect you – or give you the real reason to be scared of him. He wants to be good, but you look too cold in those clothes and he wants to give you something more. Or warm you up in a different way – which makes him feel horrible, his skin crawls and hands are fidgeting again even though he is almost sure he forgot about that habit after a few trigger-happy moments with the enemies. 

— Pharmacies should be closed by this time. Why were you here so late? 

Soldier that brought you here left you with König – colonel, you saw him in the newspapers and on TV, some public speeches while concealing his face in various ways. You don’t trust him, don’t trust the mercenaries – how can you believe that they are going to save you if they don’t even dare to show their faces? He is even scarier in person – big, hulking, too muscular to feel safe, with something like a sack thrown over his head. You want to forget about the medicine you bought and just run away, but that would only mean outright saying that you are guilty. 

You brace yourself and try not to feel too small, but König just wants to wrap his hands around you and throw that weak body of yours on his shoulder. Not letting you go away. Ever.

— I…got lost. Sorry, I know what this looks like, but I just changed the apartment and…look, this is a bog misunderstanding. I have my documents, I’m local! Not some spy or anything, I promise. 

Too bad – you would have the opportunity to escape if you were an enemy. Some evil and wicked femme fattal that is here to seduce him and get the important information out of him – but if you are telling the truth and nothing, but a civilian, he isn’t sure that he could save you from…falling to his hands. It’s stupid, he should really just find someone to fuck, he is getting desperate over the first cute and gentle girl he saw in this place – but really, do he has a chance with a soldier if just a helpless weakling like you can make him kneel? He needs to compose himself. 

— You really shouldn’t be out so late. There is a reason the curfew is upheld. It saves you from the danger. 

— For now the only danger after midnight is your soldiers, apparently. 

Your breath hitches as you understand what you just said – god, who was holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of the fucking commander? You might have had the chance of just escaping before, you weren’t doing anything wrong, you know that some of your friends were breaking the curfew after a party or late visits, but they were never held to the police or martial law – soldiers are understanding of the situation, no one from the young people actually wants to stay in their houses no matter the threats war can bring. You might have the chance of going out with nothing but some harsh words about those stupid younglings ignoring the rules – but now you insulted his men and this will probably bring you to jail for the night at least or something even more…

He laughs. And the sound of it makes your cheeks warm. 

— Ja, I can understand why you would say that. But you shouldn’t break the curfew. 

You feel like winning a lottery, but the prize isn’t money – it’s the chance of getting out of this creepy building and going home to your warm sheets and slight smells of devastation and loneliness. 

— I’m really sorry, sir, I won’t do this again. Promise. 

You look guilty, and König loves this expression. The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with tears when you think he would actually make you goto jail or do something even worse. He relishes in this power over you – even though he doesn’t mingle with civilians, always keeps a safe distance with women around him, never dares to even give them a careful look. He wants to take you away – protect from the world around you, from this fucking place, from all the dangers. The only thing that is dangerous to you seems like him – because he is the only one with power here, the only one who can decide whether he wants to behave like an asshole and lock you away or…

— I can’t just let you go. Let me…I can escort you to your residence so I can make sure you actually went home. And not somewhere else.

He looks at your pharmacy bag – it's a shitty plastic one, transparent and see-through. He understands immediately why you would decide to run to the pharmacy so abruptly even within the vicinity of the curfew – and the fact your bag contains pads and pain medicine only makes him want to scoop you in his arms and get you to his quarters. Government gave them a pretty nice location for the base and he, as the commander, got a bedroom that won’t even make you think about the military. Perks of quartering outside of base, even the barracks are nicer than the ones at home – and he would love to introduce your sore body to the comforts of warm sheets. 

You look at him, surprised and nervous, your adorable lips twists in a pout as you think about your options. You can’t really say no, this can make him angry and resentful – and these aren't emotions you want the local military personnel to feel about you. He is also scary, and stares too much – you don’t want him to look at you like this, both surprised and depraved, but something in his figure still makes you trust him. Maybe it’s that weird propaganda about them protecting your country – he is a public figure, he can’t be evil, right? Maybe it’s just the way his hands fidgets as if he is nervous about your answer – or little cracks in his voice that makes you blush just a little every time you hear it. Or you are simply too tired to not comply. 

— I, um…are you sure? You must have some other things to do. I don’t want to be a bother, really. 

— I want to protect you from harm. Nights are dangerous. 

You want to say that it’s okay, you spend more time in this country than he is – and you know every little corner of the city by this point, no matter the military outposts and destruction. You also want to say that this is creepy as fuck and you don’t want a random guy to just know where you live – but you can’t say that, you are already almost buried yourself with that long tongue of yours, and the only thing you want to do right now is just drink your ibuprofen in peace and get teleported to your bed. 

You want to say no, but it almost feels like something romantic and even though he isn’t showing his face, the view of his muscles, bursting out his clothes and body armor, enough to make you agree. You can regret that decisions later – but with the way his eyes light up like he is a puppy, you probably won’t. 

— Okay. I…I mean, if that’s okay with you, sir. 

— I live to serve. Und ich diene gerne jemanden, dir so bezaubernd ist wie du.

— Sorry?

It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel like it’s something important – but you don’t want to ask for translation, he mutters it under his breath, Maybe some curses about stupid girls getting caught by his soldiers and how he needs to escort them to make sure they are not enemy spies ready to put their knives in his back.

— Just show the way. 

He is awkward, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he looks at you and fights the urge to just squish you with his hands. You are pouting, your hands are trembling, and you are shaking – maybe from the cold or just from fear. König hates himself for not understanding whether he wants you to be scared of him or not. There is something dark, predatory almost, in having someone as adorable as you shaking like a leaf – but he also wants to just scoop you in his hands and make sure you will never be afraid of him. 

He is awkward, silent, he goes on the open side of the sideroad like protecting you from any vehicles that may cross the road at this hour – even though the only ones who are allowed to move at this time of day are hospital workers and his soldiers. His hand looms over your side, like he is not sure whether he wants to just grab you by your shoulder or allow you to lead in a more simple way. You feel protected in a way – you can’t even read his expressions because of that weird mask he is wearing, but his eyes are strangely warm every time he looks at you and thinks you are not looking at him. 

König wants to talk, but he isn’t sure what he even can say to you. The weather is nice? It’s the night, a cold one, and he doesn’t want you to catch some weird illness, but he also doesn’t want to seem like a creep by giving you his jacket. He would do so in a blink of an eye, he would die seeing your smaller body wrapped in his clothes like a nice little gift – but he knows who he is. Monster, giant, always too much and never enough, zero experience with someone who is one his one night stand in some lousy pub when he hates himself a bit less than usual. And you smell clean, civilian, sweet almost, he feels like a dog by just looking at the way your cheeks are blushing from the cold weather. 

He wants to initiate the conversation, know what you like and dislike, maybe learn your opinion about the situation – many locals dislike military presence, he understands this, KorTac isn’t known for being the best guys around here, but they get the job done, however bloody this might be. He would give away anything to just be able to talk – to speak like a normal person, without scaring you or making you think that he is weird. It’s borderline embarrassing, over the many years of his life he was thinking that he would outgrow his anxiety somehow – and here he is, fidgeting with the stupid anti stress toy in his pocket that his therapist gave him, not knowing how to talk to a girl in his grown up years. 

— You’re local.

It doesn’t even sound like a genuine question, it’s more like a threatening statement and he doesn’t like the way it sounds. He can’t gave it back now, it would be even weirder, he just wants to calm down and breathe, but even this is fucking impossible when every time he looks at you, it seems like you are only getting prettier.

— Lived here all my life, sir. 

You’re nervous, and he at least finds some comfort in this – he is not the only one who is scared here, even though he understands that you will surely be more scared than him. But it still comforts him just a little, knowing that you are in roughly the same boat – he can smile under his hood and attempt to at least pretend to be normal. Even if this would be literally impossible for someone like him. 

— Where do you work? 

It sounds like an interrogation and you are not sure if you want to answer truthfully – he isn't trying to force you right now, he isn’t even touching you no matter how closely you are walking, but you are smart enough to understand why telling a random man you just met where you live and work is a bad idea. Even if the man itself is a prominent figure in protecting – or not – your country and literally walks you home because you got lucky to not be sent to the police for breaking the curfew. You would just lie to him about where you work and, hopefully, never see him again – but it’s not just a random guy you met on Tinder. He probably has the resources to check if you really work in said place and if you didn’t and just lied to him then, well…he isn’t threatening you, but your overthinking is enough to make you scared. 

— Just a waitress. Cafe I work at isn’t very far from my apartment. 

You even tell him the address, all while praying he won’t visit you at work. He has the right, of course, especially if he would leave a good tip, but military personnel staying at your cafe probably won’t be good for business. Clients may go away, and that would mean leaving you without tips – and then you can kiss your shitty apartment goodbye. He probably won’t visit you, he is just asking this to fill the awkward silence and check whether you are a spy or not – how confident your answers are, if your story checks out or not. He is a colonel, he must have a lot of other stuff to do instead of chasing over some rule breakers. 

— Hm. 

König already knows where he will be eating every day from now on. But…hell, can he do this, really? It would probably be very awkward for both of you, and you may think that is stalking you, which he definitely is, but doesn’t want to show it yet. He can give you a nice tip every time, he sure as hell has money for it, but then you would think that he is trying to buy you, which he would of course try to if you would be fine with it because honestly, girl as adorable as you should get all the nicest thing she wants to, and he can provide for it, but his damned awkwardness would never let him outright say this, which would lead to a very uncomfortable situation and…

— We might need someone local to help with operations. 

Nailed it. Right? 

— Wh…what do you mean, sir? 

You look scared, nervous, he doesn’t want you to be scared, you’re supposed to feel safe around him! He might hate higher ups for giving him this rank and sending him to this fucking country, but he will protect you no matter what. He wants to be useful, for people to stop being scared of him – to start liking him instead, even if some cold, dismissive way of just stopping bothering him with stupid stuff. He would allow you to bother him all the time, he would protect you and make sure you are alright – you just have to let him, that would be really easy and…

— We’re strangers here. Lots of operations crossed because locals refuse to cooperate. We might need a guide out here. 

He sounds nonchalant, like he doesn’t really care about your answer, but the grip of his hands is stating otherwise. He throws you nervous looks, cold eyes flickering with anxiety as you take your time to answer, secretly hoping that you would get home before you’d had to state this. It doesn’t feel like a genuine question, more like a statement again. More like you don’t really have an option to say no, since he still has the power over you. Since he still looks and sounds like someone who can and will throw you over his shoulder and use it as a cannon folder. 

— I…I’m not sure, sir. I have to work at my actual job. 

Can he blow up your cafe? That would greatly diminish the chances of bumping into you on a romantic Sunday morning, ordering coffee just the way you secretly like it, and then leaving you a very generous tip that would immediately show you what a sophisticated and loaded gentleman he is. He can say that enemies did it, and then he would execute those poor people for ever messing with civilians. He can also get some people from the government to close it, so you wouldn’t have any place to work and then you would be simply forced to work with him – and help him get out of this country as soon as possible. He would pay you well, of course, and being your boss would be a very…interesting experience for him. 

— Are you sure?

You bite your lips and it's proven to be a horrible idea in such terrible weather – your skin breaks easily and you feel the blood in your mouth. Nice – now you would have to invest in lip balms again even though you are sure as hell that even yesterday the weather was nice. Colonel – König, you remember his callsign, no names of course, some twisted secret identity over protecting people who can literally kill you and won’t have consequences – look at you and you can swear to god that his eyes are narrowed, studying your features a bit more. Is he going to kill you for refusing the…job offer? Demand of working with mercenaries to protect your country? 

— Sorry, I…I really need to think about this. And get at least two weeks notice from my job. 

He is too focused on the way blood is glistening on your lips. He wants to lift the lower half of his hood and lick every little drop lingering in your mouth. Kiss this little wound until you would turn into a moaning, crying mess under him. Hold you so tight, he would leave bruises in places his fingers were – all while you are allowing him to. He isn’t delusional enough to think you like him the way he adores you already, but he is delusional enough to imagine you would comply with him mostly – he is a great person. Except for almost everything, of course. 

The road to your home is lonely, no one around, obviously. People aren’t breaking the curfew on the main streets – except for you, apparently, they are tending to do stuff in the shadows if they need something to go out at night. He looks at every street light with suspicion, almost wanting for someone to try and attack you – that would allow him to be your hero, protector, to put out all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while being praised for it. He wants someone to try and kill him just to feel a bit more alive – but then you stop in front of the house, and it only takes one look for him to decide that no, he isn’t going to let you go that easily. He may not be a good or even decent person, but he is not allowing an adorable little thing like you to live in that fucking rathole. 

— You live here? 

— Yes. Thank you for, well, looking after me. I know that I broke rules, I won’t…won’t do that again. Sorry. 

— No. 

— What do you mean “No”?

Is he going to inspect your apartment? You are pretty sure that you left your bed in a very chaotic state and there is more than one pair of panties lying on the couch. Not even speaking about how horrible your living conditions are – tiny apartments, barely enough space for one person fitting in 20 square feet with all of their stuff inside, and an overwhelming desire to blow something up each morning when one of your neighbors is fighting again. 

You don’t have anything to hide, but you are getting pretty tired of people who just think that because they sold their bodies to the military, they can do what they want. 

— It’s a horrible place for a girl to live. 

Hey! You might hate your place, but even that rathole of an apartment doesn't deserve something like this. 

— Well, it’s not a castle, but…I manage. 

— Don’t you have another place to sleep? 

He is fighting with the urge to invite you to the base instead. Far greater place for a little goddess like you, much nicer than…this. He has to physically restrain himself from throwing a hand on your shoulder. He just stared, hoping that you would pull a prank on him and actually has some better living conditions – he can’t bear thinking about you in that kind of life instead. 

— It’s a nice one, really! At least I don’t have to live with roommates. 

He can be your roommate. No, not even like this. He can buy you a freaking house if you would want, just pick a place, preferably in Austria, and that would be easy. He would love to just provide for you, to get to live with someone as adorable – as in need of protection as you. He understands that being this delusional is off brand even to him and his wild fantasies, but he spends too much time hating his work lately, and he needs some outlets, breathing room to just drown himself in fantasies about a nice girl who can actually like him. Who can be his everything, a cure to fix him even though his therapist says such expectations from your partner are toxic and codependent. 

He knows that he can’t say anything to you right now. If anything, you would dismiss any of his worries and just call him a psycho – would be right, probably, he doesn’t even know why he is so obsessed with your safety all of a sudden. He is only self-reflective enough to understand that he can’t act right now, no matter how much he would want to. He can only sigh and let the situation go, for now. He can always just show up at the place you work at. Totally not creepy at all, definitely, completely. 

— Be safe, hase. This time is very dangerous for a girl like you. 

— It’s…okay, really. You don’t have to worry about me, sir. 

Oh, but he wants to. 

Oh, but you want to run up the stairs and close the door behind you as fast as you possibly can. And maybe, just maybe, give him your number – definitely for consultation about the safety and how you can forfeit from breaking the curfew later in life. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, large fingers tracing over your thin shirt, and goosebumps that are running on your skin aren’t from just the cold weather. You feel ashamed for kinda liking the situation – you are creeped out by him, you are curious about him, and you kinda want him to do something else. But he squeezes the soft flesh of your shoulders, rolling a bit lower, to your back – and then lets go. You breath hitches as he takes a step back, clenching his hand as if fighting the urge to do something else. 

— We’ll meet again. 

You just nod, not sure if you want it or not. König makes a point to determine which apartment is yours based on the window placement and pay you a visit in his leave time. 

[talesofstyles]

Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though. 

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes. 

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads. 

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight. 

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again. 

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.” 

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper. 

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock. 

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs. 

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison. 

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards. 

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning. 

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.”

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes. 

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter. 

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…” 

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie. 

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth. 

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.” 

Bollocks. 

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

[jessiebanethedragon]

Good Soldiers

Empire!Crosshair x Reader

a/n: takes place after the events of the first episode so SPOLIERS

warnings: kissing, idk angst

Word count: 1749

The Green Visor stares at you menacingly. Even though it is not powered up, nor is it being worn at the moment. Having wrenched it off of the sharpshooter whilst clambering over him as Wrecker held him at bay. The scratches on your face, the busted lip and bruises littering you body are proof of the intense fight you’d been a part of. To say you were grieving might not be too much of an overstatement.

To be honest, all of you were grieving.

The damage the five of you had to do to Crosshair just to sedate him so that he couldn't hurt anyone else was enough to give you all nightmares for years to come. You did not feel like you were crying, crying implies you almost had control over the tears on your face. These ones started falling before you were conscious that they had started.

The rest of the batch only had an inkling of what the sniper meant to you. Their proximity to the two of you made hiding your feelings impossible, but to the exact degree, no one knew quite how deep these feelings went. They could see his eyes soften when he looked at you, the lingering touches and prideful smirks. They could see you bat your eyelashes at his scornful glare when you asked for something, and they could glance at a smile only reserved for their brother.

Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Echo never heard the whispered ‘I love you's’ in his bunk, nor did they know that you knew how his ungloved hands felt on every part of your body. Rough on the surface and soft underneath, just like the sniper himself.

You clutch your necklace in your hands as you cry. Aggressively wringing the chain through your battered hands in hopes the pain grounds you. But it couldn’t deny the truth. Crosshair was no longer the man you loved.

He’d shot Wrecker, electro shocked Echo, busted Tech’s glasses, and even though Hunter said he was unscathed, he was twitching at every noise.

“Hey.” It was Tech, moving to crouch down to your level from where you sit on the floor of the Havoc Marauder.

“Can I see him?” You ask, sniffling up the tears in an effort to look more like the warrior the men know you to be.

“I don’t think you want to.” Tech says while scanning you over with the handheld medical-whats-it. Nothing serious is wrong, and yet at the same time, everything serious is wrong. “He’s still… restrained.” Tech explains slowly. “There hasn't been a change in his disposition yet.” the scanner beeps as it delivers its report.

“So you mean he’s still on a homicidal rage to kill us all.” You simplify bitterly.

“When you put it like that he sounds exactly the same as before the chip.” You try to manage a fake smile at that, but even with all your acting skills piled together the curve only makes it halfway. It drops so quickly when you hear the sound of struggle followed by an anger induced scream that sounds too familiar.

The havoc marauder does not have a set of barracks or prison cells so the only way to keep Crosshair safe from himself and to keep you safe from him was to magnetize a pair of cuffs to the metal of the bunks, three sets total, one for his hands and one for each foot. You shudder at how dangerous he really is, and how you never noticed.

You’re making your way into the bunk area before Tech can stop you and you rush through the doorway, wisps of hair surrounding your dirty face and heaving chest.

Through the glare, he grits his teeth. Sitting with his hands pinned above him to the metal frame of the second bunk. Forcing him to sit on the edge of Tech’s bed.

“You’re clever traitors, I'll give you that.” He says, words slithering out threateningly. The commotion that caught your attention has bought the other four into the doorway as well.

“Ohhhhh,” he taunts. “The cavalry has arrived hasn't it?” you blink. A lot. Because if you blink fast enough the image blurs enough so that it looks like the man you love. Gingerly you step towards him, ignoring the hand that reaches out to stop you. You sit yourself on the bunk opposite.

“Do you… do you recognize me?” You ask, still clutching your necklace. He shifts as best he can in the cuffs and doesn't answer. “Crosshair…” You whisper hopelessly.

“CT 9904.” He corrects. You raise an eyebrow, and decide to switch tactics.

“So CT 9904 what do you make of CT 9903, CT 9902, and CT 9901?” you gesture to Hunter, Wrecker and Tech respectively.

“Enemies to the empire.” He states,

“You can’t reason with him with the inhibitor chip still inside.” Tech chimes in, making you sigh and look away from the prisoner on the bed and back at your necklace.

“Do you recognize this?” You ask softly, holding it out to him. His eyes narrow as he looks at it - but stays silent.

It’s a tense moment, the rest of the batch also analyzing the rough gem wrapped in leather that you’ve been wearing for as long as any of them can remember. How Crosshair would have a connection to it, they’re only just realizing. He was never one for much romance, but this gift was different. Given to you on shore leave far away from prying eyes, and confirmation that even though you could never tell anyone, he’d always be yours. The necklace was confirmation of a secret relationship and the only public display of affection either of you could show.

“Crosshair.” you press desperately, “do you recognize this?” His breathing becomes a bit more laboured, more stressed, more like he's fighting something.

“Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good-”

“Tech scan him again.” you demand watching as he begins to struggle against the bindings. Tech presses his way in the room.

“Hold his head for me,” he says before beginning a scan with a specialized tool that he's been young with for some time. You rest your hands on his face, one cupped behind and one so that you can rub calming circles on his cheek. It's the same way you used to hold him after missions that had gone less to plan.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” He says over and over as his eyes glaze over and become unfocused.

“Tech,” you say worriedly, desperately trying to coax Crosshair back to life and calm him down.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” He says with his head falling back, and you do your best to keep him supported.

“I’ve got it!” Tech shouts, looking at the left side of his temple. “Everyone out! I need to sedate him.” Your head flies up, you’re not keen to leave him, not when he's in this state.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

“I can't leave him…”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

“Wrecker get her out now!” Tech shouts and you feel arms like tree trunks around your middle and you can’t do more than wriggle as your hands slip from Crosshairs face as you're dragged out of the room.

It’s not too long later when Tech re-emerges but it feels like a lifetime to you. And before you can even get a word out he places a petri dish on the table, before leaving to go into the fresher. You rush back to find Crosshair laying on the floor, one hand still magnetized to the leg of one of the bunks. You doubt the cleanliness of the operation but if there's one thing the bad batch had in great supply it was Bacta and antibiotics.

There's a patch of shaven hair by his temple with a small bandage over it, and the drugs seem to be wearing off quickly because he's already shifting. You run a soft hand over his stubble. You’re scared to wake him, because if he wakes and it isn't the man you know under his eyes, you don’t know what you’ll do.

He groans, it's long and deep like the kind you're used to getting in the early hours of the morning when you get up to sneak him out of your bed and back into his bunk. Your name slips past his lips, and his eyes flutter open.

You’re ready to jump away, scared even though he's still bound. And you recoil when his arms reach for you and get stopped by the binder. He looks confused for a moment before his eyes meet the metal restraining him.

His eyes meet yours with tears falling from them.

“Crosshair?” you ask, “I need to know it’s you.”

“The necklace, I gave it to you.” He says, but you remain far from his grasp still. “It was the last day shore leave, at your-our place. We were in bed, the sun was rising, it was the first time I told you I loved you.” He says slowly, deliberately, in a soft voice he only uses around you. Unconsciously you move to him, his freehand wraps around your waist as he buries his face where your shoulder meets your neck. You pull him away only to press your lips to his in a kiss that’s a mess of tears, teeth and a need to be close to one another.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps when you break away the breath. “Maker, mesh’la i’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You tell him, unlocking the binder so he can hold you with both hands, before kissing him again, this time it is somehow more needy than the last, you can't get enough of Crosshair because now you know what it is like to lose him. Your hands reach under his empire blacks, partly because you want to burn every part of the empire to the ground and partly because you're desperate to properly feel him again. You feel his warm hands up your back as they go under your tunic and you keen into his touch.

Hunter clears his throat from the doorway.

“I was on my way to check on you.” He says after the two of you break away. “But it seems you two are getting on just fine.” Your face flushes bright red as Hunter turns away. “Good to have you back Crosshair.” Hunter says firmly.

Crosshair presses a kiss to your neck before smiling.

“Good to be back Sarge.”

[killianglyndon]

Reunion (tbb ep.16 fix-it fic)

Pairing: Crosshair x Medic! Female Reader

Warning: tbb ep.16 spoilers, mentioned of killing people, inhibitor chip?, some kissing, grammar mistakes, typo (cause i didn’t proof read lol. im too tired to do that.)

A/N: anyway, i was so mad and sad about tbb finale, so i decided to write a fix-it fic. That doesn’t mean I hate the episode, this is just my version of story. im not really good at writing so...haha. that’s why im a gifmaker, also my main language is not English, so there would have some typos and grammar mistakes.

Word count: 1.6k

read on ao3

You and The Bad Batch were on the way to save Hunter. You knew this would be a trap, but you couldn’t help but think of a certain sniper, your lover.

You and the batch didn’t understand what had happened to him at first, his brother, your love. The way he called you and the batch traitor, the way he raised his gun to you, and the way he talked. This wasn’t him, this was not the crosshair you know. 

Then, it turned out that the kaminoans had implanted inhibitor chips in every clone to make clones blindly follow orders, even killing the jedi.

“Good soldiers follow orders” This line kept echoing in your head after you heard Crosshair say it. This, this was not the crosshair you know.

***

“You and omega wait here” Echo told you and omega.

“No, we should stick together!” Omega protested. 

You put a hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to calm her.

“No, echo’s right” Wrecker agreed with him.

“Stay out of sight, if things go south we’ll send you a signal. Go back to the ship and contact Rex.” Echo added, looking at you and omega.

You gave him a nod and pulled Omega back to your side before watching them ascend to the training room.

You know how much Hunter meant to Omega, the way they interacted, and the way they cared for each other. You understood why the young girl looked up to him.

“Omega, I’m sure they’ll get Hunter back.” You reassured her.

“I know, and Crosshair.” She looked at you with her bright eyes.

You were a little shocked when she mentioned him. All this time, you tried so hard to suppress your feelings for him, your love for him. The batch knew that you missed him, they could tell. The way you stared into his empty bed, and the nights that you cried until you were too tired and the tears were dried.

“Yeah, and Crosshair…” You smiled sadly at the young girl.

***

When you and Omega joined the batch in the training room, you, Omega, and AZI stayed in one of the gun towers. That was when you saw him, your Crosshair. Hunter and he were tackling each other while Tech, Echo, and Wrecker were shooting the droids.

“I believe you may have activated a few too many droids.” AZI said to Omega and you.

“ We can see that, AZI.” Omega raised her bow, aiming for the nearest droid to Hunter and Crosshair. Meanwhile, you used your blaster to shoot some of the droids near the others.

***

After clearing out all the droids, you, Omega, and AZI joined the others on the ground. You walked closer to Crosshair and Hunter. 

You could see that Crosshair was shocked to see you, the coldness in his eyes, mixing up with a tiny bit of shock.

The big scar on the right side of his head was horrifying, did the empire did this to him? Your heart almost broke into million pieces, seeing the love of your life like this.

“Crosshair…” Your voice almost sounded like a whisper. 

For a moment, you see the real Crosshair, your Crosshair. But soon replaced by the coldness and aloofness.

“Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s the inhibitor chip.” Hunter tried to talk some senses into him.

“Wrong.” Crosshair stared back at Hunter. “I had my chip removed a long time ago.” He added.

All of you looked shocked, Tech and Wrecker looked at each other, speechless. Hunter almost looked hurt. 

“Since when?” Hunter asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes”

No. No. This is not Crosshair. The Crosshair you know would never do this.

“Cross, the empire lied about many things, what if they lied to you?” You asked, trying to hold back your tears.

“This is who I am.” 

Crosshair tried to raise his rifle, but Hunter was faster. He stunned him before Crosshair’s attempt.

***

“Hunter, three Venators are descending on the city. We need to leave, now.” Tech stated.

“Wrecker, grab Crosshair. He’s coming with us.” Hunter grabbed Crosshair’s rifle and backpack, while you went to picked up Crosshair’s helmet.

You saw Omega gave Hunter a nod before walking away. Hunter caught you staring at him, so you gave a sad smile to him in return.

“He’s coming home with us.” Hunter said.

***

You and The Batch finally made it to Nala Se’s lab, Tech and Echo were currently trying to figure out a plan. After Crosshair and Hunter’s intense conversation, you saw him walking to the window and taking a seat to rest.

“AZI, come with me, I need your help on something.” You asked.

AZI followed you to Crosshair, you took a seat beside him.

“Crosshair…”

“What do you want?” He asked coldly.

“AZI is a medical droid, he can scan you to check if you still have the chip.”

“Indeed, I helped CT-5555 removed his and CT-5385’s chip according to my memory database.” AZI said.

“Fine.” Crosshair agreed reluctantly.

“CT-9904, this scan only takes a few seconds” AZI said before scanning Crosshair.

To be honest, you knew he still had the chip, you hoped he still had the chip. Cause there was no way, no way the Crosshair you knew would be like this.

“The scan is completed.” AZI said.

“So..?” You asked.

“CT-9904 still has his chip, the chip’s effect was weakened due to the injury from ion engine.” AZI answered.

You felt almost relieved? 

The Batch heard it and rushed to you, “He still has...his chip?” Hunter asked, sounded a little guilty.

Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker looked at each other, surprised by this unexpected news as well.

“That would be correct.”AZI replied.

“Could you remove it, AZI?” Omega asked, she wanted his brother back as much as any of you did.

“Yes. I’m capable of removing CT-9904’s inhibitor chip.”

“Do it.” Hunter said.

You stayed next to Crosshair while AZI removed his chip. The surgery was faster than you think, you hold Crosshair’s hand during the whole surgery, and you still holding it now.

“CT-9904’s chip has been removed. He should be awake in any minutes.” AZI stated.

You felt his hand pressing yours, “Crosshair?”

“I...I…”

“Hey, you’re okay now. We removed your chip.” You reassured him.

Crosshair looked away from you, his eyes filled with guilt, confusion, anger, sadness.

“Don’t you hate me?” He asked. “All those things I had done…”

Your hand reached out to stroke his face, “No. Never. I know it’s the chip, Cross. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “I love you, always and forever.” 

Crosshair put his hand on your face, wiping away the tears falling down your face. “ But I shot at you, I tried to kill you… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh, I forgive you, Cross. All of it. I’m sorry we didn’t come to save you earlier…” 

Crosshair sat up and pulled you into a hug, you melted into his touch, inhaling his scent. Your Crosshair was finally back to you, this is real. The sleepless night without him, the loneliness, the emptiness, the desperation, were all gone. Crosshair was back to you, alive.

“I love you too, cyare.” He said it back.

He pulled away a little so he could kiss you on the lips, his hand trailed to your nape, kissing you with force. You and Crosshair clung on to each other so hard, afraid you would lose each other again. That was when you heard Hunter cleared his throat, you two finally pulled away from each other.

“I know you two miss each other but this lab is about to collapse. and this is not very…” Hunter said and eyed Omega.

“Right, sorry about that.” You answered, then looked at Crosshair whose arm was still wrapped around you. “Cross.” You nudged him.

“Fine.” He gave up and retreated his arm.

“I see Crosshair still has his severe and unyielding personality.” Tech stated.

“This is called missing someone, Tech.” Crosshair said and pulled out one toothpick to throw it at him.

“Ha! He’s back!” Wrecker exclaimed and playfully punched Crosshair’s shoulder. 

Crosshair pretended to show an annoyed face, but deep down you knew he missed his brothers.

“Listen, Crosshair. I’m sorry. We should have come for you earlier.” Hunter said. “I was trying to keep the rest of the squad safe, but you are one of us. I’m sorry.”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, just stood up and walk toward Hunter. For a moment you thought he was going to punch him, but instead, Crosshair extended his hand to Hunter.

Hunter looked at Crosshair’s hand then his eyes, he reached out his hand to shake Crosshair’s. 

“We need to leave fast, the structure could not hold much longer.” AZI chimed in.

***

All of you finally made it to the platform, for once the Kamino is sunny.

Omega stared at the Tipoca City, which was all destroyed. “It’s… all gone.”

You looked at that direction, the place all clones called home was all gone. The Batch and you took a few seconds to process this, to accept the fact.

“We should leave before Empire’s scouts show up.” Tech said.

“You coming with us?” Wrecker asked, looking at Crosshair.

“Yeah.” Crosshair said and took out a toothpick, putting it into his mouth.

Hunter nodded at him before walking to the ship with the others.

You still stood next to Crosshair, “You ready?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a little smile then intertwined his hand with yours, leading you to the Marauder. 

You didn’t know what the future would be, but one thing was sure. Crosshair would be right beside you, always and forever.

tagging: @ahsoka1 @kavecika @starwarschicken @itsjml @ct-1994 @loth-wolffe-main @theiirs @thefeatherofhope @ahs0ka-tan0 @mallr4ts @kriffclone

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Hi hello! So pleased to hear your requests are open! Can I please request for a marriage au mafia style where the reader gets hurt or assaulted by the rival gang in front of him and due to being restraint he can't get to her and he cries and begs for her stop. Then thankfully Chan and the others come to the rescue and you want nothing more than to be in chnagbins arms. Maybe a lot of angst and fluff afterwards too. Can't wait to see what you come up with 💕

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Changbin

Warnings: Mention of violence and blood; cursing and language; lots of angst and some fluff at the end; mature content

Genre: Mafia AU; Established Relationship

Where are you?

It feels like a dream. The very strange sensation of that in-between state because you were incapable of distinguishing consciousness from something less than. 

Am I alive?

You must be, aware of the sensation of cold, shivers running down your spine, raising little bumps across your arms...

“Princess!”

What? Did you hear that?

“Y/N!” the voice came again. More urgently this time.

You realized then, with the grounding agency of that sound, that your eyes were closed, but it was a struggle to open them, slowly coming back from whatever had sucked you down, wincing at the dull pain in your head.

“Y/N,” the voice sighed this time. Like it was relieved to see you cognizant. “Tell me you’re okay, love.”

Love?

It hit you at that moment, the sound of the voice. One you could recognize no matter the degree of darkness holding you under, and you managed to open your eyes enough to meet Changbin’s gaze from across the room. 

“Changbin?” you questioned. Or, at least, you thought you said his name. You couldn’t be sure since the sounds around you made it seem like your head was underneath water, distorting everything, and the roof of your mouth was dry and tasteless.

“That’s right, love,” Changbin said, and you struggled to keep him in your line of vision, watching his form swim and dance in strange directions.

“I don’t feel good,” you admitted, hearing what might’ve been a sharp intake of breath.

“Where does it hurt?” Changbin asked, and you frowned at how difficult the question was since you weren’t sure how to answer it.

There was too much numbness, and you were far more concerned with restoring your senses, slowly feeling your ears open back up and the things surrounding you come into focus.

Meanwhile, Changbin was still talking. “I’ll kill them all,” he growled. “This was never supposed to happen.”

Them? you thought to yourself vacantly, gingerly turning around as much as your bindings would allow, realizing only after a brief relapse of confusion that your hands and legs were tied to the metal chair you sat on. 

“Where are we?” you asked, finding your voice amidst everything else.

“I’m not sure,” Changbin whispered, and he suddenly sat upright in his chair, eyes narrowing and features taking on that practiced hardening that you associated with your husband at his most dangerous.

But a Changbin bound and tied by seemingly impossible to escape restraints didn’t exactly scream power to you. In fact, it seemed more like a power imbalance, and you were left reeling for answers when the sound of a distant door opening and then closing filled the space between you both.

“I see you’re awake now,” an unfamiliar figure announced, voice slightly accented. He walked with an arrogant swagger, matching the exaggerated steps he took and the smirk he wore on his grizzled features. “We’ve been waiting.”

“Don’t touch her!” Changbin snapped, jerking against his restraints as the veins in his neck visibly popped in response to his obvious anger and frustration. 

“Who? The girl?” the man asked with a lazy gesturing towards you. “Then you’ll give us answers, no?”

“What do you want?” Changbin asked, and you noted how his fingers were clenched tightly against the arm rests attached to his chair.

“The new shipment of weapons,” the man said. “Your men took them from us the other night. Came in and shot my best sniper.”

Changbin sighed, clearly frustrated. “They were originally assigned to us.”

“But then we made a better deal!” the man growled. “It was my name on that contract, and you had no right to interfere.”

“Says who?” Changbin asked, fishing for more information.

“I can’t tell you that,” the man replied. “I’m only the messenger.”

“You act like it’s more than that.”

“Oh?” the man smirked. “Well, I am a big deal.”

Changbin glowered at the arrogance. “I don’t lead the organization.”

“I know, but you’re an important player,” the man continued. “And your name was everywhere when I started investigating.”

“The weapons were a necessary exchange,” Changbin argued.

“But they were ours!” the man declared passionately, and Changbin knew better than to try to argue with someone so overzealous.

“Fine,” Changbin huffed. “I’ll have my men restore the weapons.”

“Wonderful,” the man sighed, tucking his hands into his pocket. “There is one more thing, though.”

“One more?” Changbin snorted.

“I know of your importance, Mr. Seo,” the man said. “I assume that you’re someone in possession of good information.”

“Like what?”

“Like that little bar you opened downtown,” the man continued, taking another step closer. 

You froze when he pulled a knife from his pocket, studying the way the light reflected off the harsh metal. “What about it?” Changbin grumbled, eyes focused on the obvious danger in the room.

“I’m curious about its sudden success,” he said, and you shivered when he started circling your chair. “Seems like something is missing.”

“Just good business,” Changbin said, but you could tell he was trying to get one step ahead of the guy - discerning the meaning of this unexpected conversation.

“Or, you figured out how to delegitimize the competition,” the man harshly exhaled, and you whimpered when you felt the cold blade of the knife tease the sensitive skin of your neck. 

Changbin sat up just a little higher, biceps flexing against his restraints. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Obviously,” the man hissed, digging the blade just enough to draw a tiny pinprick of blood. “You’ve sent your men undercover to spy on my business! To spread rumors and lies and turn my clientele away!”

Changbin chuckled at the outrageous claim, but it was devoid of any humor. “You probably fucked your business over yourself.”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” the man growled, searing metal against flesh. “I know men like you, Mr. Seo, and I’m willing to bet that you’ve played a bigger part than what you’ve let on.”

“I have better things to do than fuck with some second rate booze club,” Changbin growled. “We’ve got clubs all over downtown. They’ve all been successful, and it has nothing to do with sending off the competition.”

Changbin smirked then, something harsh and mocking. “Maybe you’re just a really bad businessman.”

But it was the wrong thing to say, and you withheld a scream of terror when the man suddenly wrapped biting fingers into your hair. “You want to save your cocksleeve?” he growled, gripping even tighter to your aching scalp and wrenching your head back to expose your throat and the small laceration he had left there on the smooth skin. A puddle of red amidst the rest. “Tell me why you did it!”

“I can’t!” Changbin snarled in return. “My guys never stepped foot in your territory.”

“LIES!” the man roared, and you were teetering precariously in your chair, back legs lifted from the safety of the floor.

“If you hurt her,” Changbin said, and his tone was staggered and weak. “I will make sure you suffer a thousand times worse.”

The man laughed, incredulous as he looked around the room. “And what do you plan to do about it?”

Silent tears fell down your glistening cheeks as you felt the man’s warm breath against the side of your face. “Maybe violence isn’t enough for you. Maybe I need to get what I need by other means.”

Your stomach dropped at the guttural tone, trying to meet Changbin’s eyes from across the room. “You’ve been warned,” Changbin said. “The grave you’ve dug for yourself is deep enough.”

“Oh?” the man laughed. “Well, since you think you’re in such control here, let me remind of you of the reality of the situation...”

“Changbin!” you cried when you were abruptly lifted from your chair, knife cutting through the ropes binding you, sending you colliding back against the solid mass of an unfamiliar form, loose hands roaming across your torso. 

“Stop!”

Changbin’s voice was just veering on the edge of desperate, recognizing that you were in no position for him to sound anything less than serious. 

“Stop?” your captor repeated in a mocking tone, and you felt the blade of the knife return to your throat, slicing down harder and finally triggering the hair-raising scream that you had been suppressing. Trying to be brave for Changbin.

“You can’t do this!” Changbin cried, and you were amazed to see the faint rivulet of a tear stain - the mark of weakness that your husband tried so hard to suppress in this violent line of work.

If you thought about it, there were only a handful of times that you had ever seen Changbin cry.

“I’ll do anything,” Changbin whispered. “I’ll even take her place! Just don’t hurt her anymore.”

“Hmmm?” Your captor relinquished his threatening attack, and you could breath a little easier when he turned his attention back to Changbin.“What if I offer you a compromise? Tell me how you’ve managed your business affairs, and I won’t kill your little plaything.”

Changbin inhaled sharply, gaze full of a sinister rage you knew was reserved for his greatest enemies. “You’ll be screaming for a death of your own by the time I’m done with you.”

“You still don’t understand,” the man sighed, and you gasped when chapped lips brushed against your cheek. “Maybe I’ll fuck her first...”

“You won’t have the time.”

“Says who...”

He trailed off then. The last words you ever heard from your captor before an enormous explosion interrupted the tension, walls and floors shaking as dust and debris fell from the ceiling overhead.

You could feel the body behind you trembling as well, but you knew that it wasn’t from the explosion. It was from fear, and in a split second of panic, the man shoved you to the ground, and you yelped when your head collided hard against the concrete. 

You attempted to pull yourself back up, but there was something numbing and weighty keeping you on the floor, darkness swimming threateningly in front of your eyes once again.

There were familiar sounds: the sharp click of a gun, the whizzing of bullets flying overhead, and the cacophony of screams and yells.

The pain was keeping you from focusing, aware of vague figures passing in and out of your periphery, running and moving in all sorts of directions. It was chaos at its finest, and you were incapable of comprehending any of it. Instead, you could only focus on two things: the pounding of your pulse against your eardrums and the intermingled buzzing of familiar tones.

There was a hand on your shoulder, but you were incapable of responding to their call, succumbing to an irrefutable and dreamless sleep.

The first thing you noticed when you were capable of understanding your surroundings, was the silky fabric of the bed sheets.

They were smooth to the touch and you flexed your fingers around them, humming in contentment when you silted open your eyes just enough to confirm that they belonged to you and Changbin. The ones you used on the King-sized bed in your shared room.

But therein lay the problem: you were alone in the bed, and the only voices you could hear certainly didn’t match the same tone of your husband.

You swallowed hard, flinching when the motion brought attention to the thick bandage around your neck, and upon touching the material, you were bombarded with a barrage of images reminding you of everything that had happened the previous night. 

It was enough to leave you shaking, seeking some form of comfort as you roused your body just enough to turn around to the sound of those voices, recognizing Chan, your husband’s boss, and Seungmin, the residential healer.

“Chan?” you groaned, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged you, rushing over to your bedside in an instant. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you said, watching as he lifted a bottle of water to hand to you.

“Drink this.”

You nodded, taking it from him. “Where’s Changbin?”

The question was met with silence, and you frowned when Chan and Seungmin exchanged quick glances. “Well, if nothing hurts, then I have other appointments,” Seungmin said, hurriedly dismissing himself from the room.

“Coward,” Chan muttered, but he was nothing but smiles for you, coming to sit down at your bedside. “Changbin...he’s busy.”

The answer wasn’t satisfactory, and your heart started beating a little faster. “Where?”

“Downstairs,” he said, and you knew exactly what that meant. 

“He brought him here?” you muttered, hating the idea of having someone like that under the same roof you called home. 

“Changbin insisted,” Chan replied, and you realized that he disapproved as well, but it still didn’t help your tender sensibilities, and you were ready to implode from the inside because you needed Changbin’s comfort.

“I need him,” you said, fixing Chan with a stern look. “Can you ask him to come up here?”

“He won’t be convinced until he’s done,” Chan said, but his gaze was soft as he leaned in closer. “I can help, if you’d like.”

It was a nice gesture, and normally you might take him up on an offer of comfort, but Chan wasn’t going to heal the turmoil bubbling inside of you.

The emotions burst forth, and your eyes had already glossed over from tears shedding themselves like dead leaves falling from a tree in the middle of a windstorm. “I just want Changbin,” you sobbed, and Chan was barely perceivable through the mess of your tears. 

You could tell Chan was upset by your dismissal, even as his fingers tried to brush away the wetness dotting your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and it spoke to a history between the two of you that often when unsaid.

You had been given to Chan, your organization’s leader, as a peace offering from a rival mafia group. It was a cruel trade, and you resisted as much as you could, especially since, at first, you were meant to be his betrothed.

And you came into the Miroh Group with a determination to resist them to the very end.

Until Changbin stole your heart.

From there, you couldn’t believe that you had gotten so lucky, falling in love whole-heartedly, capable of forgiving Changbin’s worst sins.

Including his more sadistic tendencies.

“You can try to see him,” Chan said, seemingly satisfied after wiping away most of the evidence of your internal breakdown.

You nodded immediately, even though you understood that what you might find downstairs wouldn’t be anything comforting.

You felt a little unsteady on your feet, even with Chan helping you down the concrete steps descending into a place you tended to avoid.

The smell of alcohol and blood were both overwhelming, and you stumbled on the final step, rearing back at the sound of a truly gruesome gurgle that reminded you too much of drowning. 

In the middle of the room you managed to make out Changbin, wearing dark pants and a white t-shirt, allowing you to see all the blood painting the texture in ugly patterns.

But then your attention wandered over to the poor soul strapped to the chair, barely recognizable because of the damage caused by your husband, the one who was gaping at you while holding a knife in one hand and scissors in the other.

"Y/N,” Changbin whispered. “Why aren’t you resting?”

You shook your head, looking past the gruesome, mangled damage to see the pained expression of your former captor. 

Changbin had made good on his threat to tear the asshole apart, and your stomach rolled at the awful display of violence.

Done at the hands of the man who made the sweetest love to you in the dark recesses of your bedroom.

Still, you craved his presence, falling into his open arms as he held you close after tossing aside his tools. “Shhh,” he whispered to calm your tears.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, love,” Changbin said, soothing your cries with soft cooing. 

You savored his closeness, tucking your chin over his shoulder and opening your eyes to look upon the decrepit appearance of your former captor. “What are you doing to him?” you asked, and you felt Changbin sigh as he pulled back from you.

“I know you don’t approve, love,” Changbin said, and he glanced down at his ruined t-shirt and jeans, drenched in blood. 

Under most circumstances, you would agree, but you felt your hand jumping to your throat, wrapping around the bandage covering your wound. 

Changbin frowned at the movement, likely remembering the events that led to your injuries. “Kill him,” you said, and both Changbin and Chan seemed taken aback by your response. It was completely out of character, coming from someone who often disapproved of the murderous part of their work. 

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, and you could see that he wore wariness on top of his horrified expression.

“Come upstairs soon,” you said, squeezing Changbin’s hand with your own. “I need you.”

Your husband nodded, looking at you with something akin to awe as you left the downstairs basement with Chan hot on your heels and torturous screams assaulting your ears. 

Chan only left your bedroom once Changbin arrived, showered and clean, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

“Careful,” Chan whispered to him on the way out, and you shivered.

But there was nothing that could warm you up more than Changbin, and you even managed a smile when he climbed into the bed behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Hi, princess,” he whispered, and you felt like bathing in the sensual tone of his voice.

“Changbin,” you sighed in return, turning around so that you could face him.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it love?” he asked, reaching out to tenderly stroke his fingers across your bandages. 

“Not anymore,” you said. “Seungmin did a good job.”

“He better,” Changbin rumbled, and you tried not to roll your eyes at your husband. 

“I was really upset earlier,” you said. “When I couldn’t find you.”

“That’s my fault, princess,” Changbin said. “I didn’t know you would wake-up so soon....and there were things I needed to take care of.”

You sighed, closing your eyes hard against a distant image of your mind conjuring the bloodied and ruined form of your captor. “Did you find out who he belonged to?”

“Yeah, a small organization under Park,” Changbin said. “He was more than willing to talk after I took one of his fingers.”

Your heart twisted at his nonchalant tone. “I guess you silenced him.”

Changbin hesitated, pausing to look at you with concern. “Are you mad at me?”

“Just...disappointed,” you said. “I couldn’t hold myself together.”

“It would’ve torn me apart,” Changbin replied. “If I let him go without making him suffer for touching my princess.”

You closed your eyes, feeling Changbin trail his fingers across your arm. “But you’re here now?”

“Of course,” Changbin agreed, leaning in to kiss you gently. “I’m yours, love. For as long as you need me to hold you.”

“Might be all night,” you said, moving up to kiss under his jaw. “I need you in a lot of ways.”

Changbin chuckled at your implications, leaving nothing to be imagined as you grazed one finger over the front of his sweatpants where his cock lay flaccid. He titled your chin at a better angle, a glaze of lust darkening his eyes. “When you feel better,” he purred. “I’ll take care of your little pussy.”

You shook at his seductive promise, curling even closer to him as Changbin’s thudding heart lulled you into a comfortable peace.

[thisissirius]

Buddie + 90

forget it.

for you, nova, anything :)

when i knew myself [ao3] eddie/buck

"Forget it," Eddie says.

------

Forget it, like it doesn't mean anything.

Forget it, like his feelings don't matter.

Forget it, as if Buck can.

------

"Eddie loves me," Buck says, before Maddie's even opened the door the whole way. He runs a hand through his hair, whirls around to face her. "He literally said I love you and then forget it!"

"Okay," Maddie says carefully. She doesn't look surprised and Buck wants to scream at her; why isn't she surprised? Has Eddie told her? Does everyone know? "Everyone does not know," Maddie continues, and oh shit, okay, apparently Buck's talking his thoughts aloud. "I didn't know."

Buck stalls, looks around the room. There's no sign of Jee and he swallows. "Sorry, I should have called. Are you okay? Is Jee-Yun?"

Maddie nods, taking his hand. "I'm... getting there." She smiles softly. "Jee's out with Chim. They went for a drive."

"Okay," Buck says, letting Maddie lead him to the couch. "God, Maddie, Eddie loves me."

"So you said." Maddie tugs at a pillow, resting it in her lap. "What actually did he say?"

Buck rubs at his face, tipping his head against the back of the couch. "Exactly what i said. We were in his kitchen, I was cooking and he just said, I love you and then forget it when I didn't reply." When Maddie doesn't say anything for a while, he looks up. "Should I have said something?"

Again, silence. Eventually, Maddie gives him a soft smile. "Do you wish you'd said something?"

"I never even thought," Buck starts, except that's a lie. He has thought about it, more than once. It's always just been a touch out of reach because of time, Shannon, Taylor, Ana. The truck, the tsunami, the sniper. There's always been something in the way and the only time Buck's almost said something, Eddie had just handed him the greatest gift in a hospital room. "He made me legal guardian."

Maddie starts, raising her eyebrows. "What?"

"Of Chris," Buck explains, picking at his jeans. "If anything happens to him, I get guardianship of Chris."

The expression on Maddie's face is equal parts shock and confusion. "He has family, right? Shannon's and Eddie's?"

Buck snorts. "That's what I said. He just said nobody will fight for my son harder than you and just, said it would be me."

"Wow," Maddie says quietly. Buck wonders if she's thinking of Jee-Yun. "That's quite the thing."

"I know." Buck's voice is pitched just as low. "I would never say no. I'm scared I'll mess it up."

Maddie shakes her head, reaches over to squeeze his knee. "You shouldn't be. Eddie would never have done this if he thought the same."

It's something Buck's tried to tell himself over and over. Like most things that run through his head, he's never sure, even when someone tells him, whether he can trust himself.

Except when Eddie says, that's not on you or no, I know you did or you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong.

Somehow, something about the weight of Eddie's words, the way he says them, means something. Maybe it's because Eddie doesn't say anything unless there's a meaning to it, a point in it being said. Even when he's mad, or afraid, or angry, everything he says makes Buck want to listen.

"How do you feel about him?" Maddie asks eventually.

"I'm dating Taylor," Buck says helplessly.

"Not the question I asked." Maddie sits back, looking thoughtful. "But if you weren't?"

There's not even a question. "I don't want to ruin anything."

"That's why you won't," Maddie points out. "You and Eddie are starting from a foundation of friendship, Buck. I don't know how true this is," she continues, meeting his eyes, "but I think you and Eddie found each other at the right time."

Buck wonders.

Buck coming off of Abby's absence, Eddie chasing Shannon. Losing Shannon, losing Abby. Chris bringing them together in ways Buck could never have imagined.

"Even when we weren't speaking," Buck says, heart heavy, "I just wanted him around. I wanted to talk to him and ask him and I couldn't."

Maddie nods, even though she doesn't know everything. Doesn't know that standing in a supermarket, Eddie mad at him and throwing Chris into the turmoil already running around Buck's head wrecked him.

"I love him," he says, trying the words out loud.

"Yes," Maddie says.

"I'm in love with him," he says, closing his eyes. "Fuck, I love him."

------

It takes a long time for Eddie to open the door.

Please, Buck texts him. You haven't ruined anything.

Eventually, the door unlocks. It doesn't open, but Buck does that instead, watches Eddie's back as he turns into the kitchen.

"You just ran," Buck says, untying his shoes. He doesn't expect Eddie to answer, and isn't surprised when silence greets him. Shoving his shoes by the door, he takes his time down the hall, working out what he's going to say. Eddie's standing at the table, staring at Chris' homework still spread out across it, fingers sliding against the papers. "Eddie. Please look at me."

There's a tightness to Eddie's jaw, but he does. "What?"

"You told me to forget it," Buck says, desperately. "Why?"

Eddie shrugs, eyes darting down to the homework and then back up. "Just say whatever you need to and leave. Please."

"Alright," Buck says, because he knows Eddie, knows that he won't be going anywhere. "I'm dating Taylor."

"Yes thank you," Eddie snaps.

"But," Buck presses on, leaning against the table. "I had to come here before I break up with her."

The anger stutters and dies. Eddie looks confused, eyes bright, his lips parted. "What?"

"I went to see Maddie," Buck explains. "I don't even know why. When you told me, I didn't know what to think. I've been trying not to, ever since you told me about your will."

Eddie looks confused. "You don't have to—"

"Of course I do," Buck says. He moves around the table, closer to Eddie. "I might not have known what you were doing," he continues, reaching for Eddie. Eddie freezes, but he doesn't stop Buck taking his hand, tugging him forward, "but I do now."

"What was I doing?" Eddie asks. Buck knows him well enough to hear the tremor in his voice that he's trying to hide, the hope he's trying not to feel.

Buck stares at him, the vulnerabilty that Eddie rarely lets himself show, and rests his free hand on Eddie's hip. "Telling me you love me long before you said the words."

"I," Eddie starts. Doesn't seem to know how to finish.

"I love you," Buck says, every ounce of honesty he posseses weighing down the words.

There's no don't do this, no Buck, don't. There's just a quiet acceptance in the way Eddie stares back at him, the breath he lets out. A weight lifted, the shadows leaving his face.

"Taylor," Eddie says.

"Taylor," Buck agrees. "But after, I'm coming back here."

Eddie nods, touches a hand to Buck's face, touches their foreheads together. "Come home."

"I will," Buck promises.

[shurelyasreverie]

Aphelios x Solari!Reader: Faith in the Traitor

Deemed a traitor for sympathising with the Lunari, you are alone as you aimlessly wander through Targon, only to catch the attention of one of the most dangerous assassins the Lunari has to offer...

Word Count: 2097

Warning: Violence and death

Aphelios found you leaning against a tree in the forests below Mount Targon. Your figure bound in blood red garments with golden armour that reflected only the light of the sun, it was clear as day who you were aligned with. It was all the information he needed to reach his decision to kill you. Calibrum in hand, he aimed down sights with his rifle, straight for the side of your head...

“Aphelios, wait.”

The voice of Alune rung in his head and his eyebrows furrowed in frustration but he lowered the rifle nonetheless, waiting for his sister's explanation.

“A true member of the Solari would never turn their back to Mount Targon.”

That reason seemed enough as Aphelios watched you in curiosity. There he noticed the inconsistencies. As of now, the Solari controlled most of Targon, so why did you look so dishevelled? Why was your armour so dented, the red clothing so frayed? Why did you desperately try to catch your breath like a prey on the run, constantly on the verge of death if they made the wrong decision? As repulsive as the fiery light of the Solari could be, the light you emanated was more tolerable... soothing, almost.

Your (E/C) orbs scanned the area. You noticed nothing except for the footprints on the ground, no doubt footprints from the Solari. Your fingers traced the tracks, sampling some dirt. Your nose scrunched. Fresh tracks. You took off in the opposite direction.

“Curious... I struggle to read their soul... but I sense goodness in their heart. I sense fear but determination. Follow them and we shall find answers.”

Sheathing his weapon, Aphelios nodded obediently and followed Alune's commands. Spying on you proved harder than expected though as you continuously looked over your shoulder, your blade always at the ready to slay anything that moved. You stayed in the shadows, hiding. However after a few hours of observing your moves, Aphelios managed to learn your body language and habits.

You had gotten too exhausted. Sheathing your weapon, you desperately tried to keep yourself awake by talking through your thoughts.

“Where am I even going?” you started to mutter. “Anyone I'm looking for... I don't know where to start, a map still would've felt nice, though. What if I run into the Lunari? I wonder if they'll accept me if I turn myself in...”

“A wanted Solari... but what was their crime? I don't sense any guilt in their soul,” Alune mused but Aphelios' blood boiled. It seemed typical of the Solari, to commit atrocities without guilt, all for their pride and supposed love of the sun. His mind was decided, he would waste no time slaying you when Alune gives the word.

As the sun disappeared over the horizon and the moon started to rise, you settled by a lake. Collapsing to your knees with a hefty exhale, you cupped the water in your hands to quench the insatiable thirst that made it hard to even breathe. You had left Mount Targon in such a hurry, you didn't have the time to bring any rations with you.

And Aphelios noticed your lack of resources. When he left to find sustenance of his own, he cursed himself for feeling pity for a Solari.

Returning to the edge of the clearing, hidden under the shadows of nightfall, Aphelios watched you as you sat by the lake. You idly let your fingertips swirl along the water, creating ripples that made slivers of moonlight dance among the small waves. You mystified him. The Solari never approved of the night or moon, believing the moon only leached off the true light of the sun. Hating the pale blue light, many Solari would create bonfires or torches, the amber light from the flame giving them solace amidst the white light of the moon. But not you. As you tilted your head up, looking to the large, full moon. Closing your eyes, you seemed to bask in the silver light, letting the spirit of the moon embrace you. Whereas the golden light of the Solari typically clashed with the moon, yours seemed to fuse with the moonlight, blending together. A symbol of peace. How was this possible? How was a Solari, so guiltless in their crimes, be so open to the moon?

“It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?”

Alune's voice interrupted Aphelios' thoughts and he looked up at the full moon, nodding in agreement. It was truly a sight to behold, it was not everyday the sky was so clear, with millions of stars – the many children of the moon – dancing as they twinkled in the darkness.

There was then an amused giggle from his sister.

“Remember that I see the world through your eyes, Phel. For you, the beautiful sight wasn't the moon, was it?”

Aphelios merely huffed as he settled himself down, preparing for a light slumber despite Alune continuing to tease.

“The Solari has awaken.”

Aphelios woke up to Alune's notice and the warm hues of sunrise. You were still by the lake, he assumed you slept under the moonlight. He watched as you knelt by the water, drinking from the lake. He unknowingly took a step forward and you halted your drinking. Eyes narrowed, you spoke with a low and commanding voice that reminded Aphelios you were truly a warrior of the sun.

“I know you're there.”

Aphelios froze. Was he really that conspicuous? He had never failed a mission. But you didn't look to the right where Aphelios hid, instead to the left. You stood to your full height, shoulders square and eyes burning with the fire of Solari. Another Solari stepped out of the shadows, attire similar to yours, albeit cleaner and reflecting the harsh, blinding light of the sun.

“(Y/N) (L/N), one of the most promising children of the sun... once a revered Ra'Horak, one of the highest ranking assassins of the Solari...” the Solari announced.

“Do I know you?” you frowned as you sized the Solari up. Even without the armour he has a hulking figure, at least a foot taller than you and with various weapons strapped to him. Whereas you... the days of being on the run had made your muscles almost nonexistent... you wouldn't even stand a chance of outrunning him.

“I am the newest Ra'Horak, sent off on my first mission.”

“And what is that?”

“The elders want your head and I intend to deliver it on a golden platter.”

Your blood ran cold. You unsheathed your weapon and so did he, just because you might lose doesn't mean you weren't going down without a fight.

“I did nothing wrong!” You argued.

“Then why did you flee?”

“Because you are the ones who consider me wrong.”

“Siding with the Lunari is blasphemy. A crime of the highest order, are you so ignorant that you cannot see that?”

“I just want us to live in peace,” you begged. “As equals. Does the night not last equally as long as the day?”

“Silence!” The Solari bellowed as he charged at you and you barely had the strength to move away. “I will not hear you slander the Solari like this! I will cut out your tongue so it will never be able to speak lies. The Lunari must die.”

“They do not!” You shouted as you parried another attack. You desperately tried to move away, take advantage of your smaller figure as you parried and dodged him but he was simply too fast and strong.

His blade collided with your armour, and although it didn't puncture you, it sent you tumbling face first to the ground. When you mustered the strength to flip onto your back, a blade was already pressed against your neck.

“What are your final words, traitor?” The Solari spat at your face.

“This war won’t end unless you change,” you stated.

The Solari growled, pulling his blade back to stab it into your neck. You closed your eyes, waiting for the numbness of death but it never came. Instead, your eyes opened when you heard an audible thud on the ground. The Solari's blade had fallen from their open palm. The warrior lay in a pool of their own blood, a bullet wound in their head.

A rustle in the bushes and you instinctively lifted your blade, despite the near impossible chances of stopping a bullet. Out of the bushes emerged a lanky, pale man, clad in moonstone armour and weapons, particularly a sniper rifle sitting on his back. Why would the Lunari save you? Nonetheless, knowing this Lunari could kill you just as he did the Solari, you knelt deeply in respect.

“Thank you for saving me,” you murmured earnestly, soft enough to show emotion but loud enough for your rescuer to hear.

Aphelios' eyes darted around nervously as he was unsure of what to do. Seeing such a pure (E/C) gaze up close, scrutinising his face made him realise how long it had been since he properly interacted with someone beyond his sister, let alone a Solari. Heat rose to his face as you watched him patiently, expecting a response. He never regretted giving up his voice for Alune but in that moment, he wished to say something – anything – to you.

You stood up and cleared your throat as the Lunari looked at you blankly.

“Uh... I'm (Y/N)...” you introduced as you raised your hand for a handshake. The air was tense. Two trained assassins from opposing sides, knowing nothing but murdering each other's comrades. To think that they'd be greeting each other so pleasantly.

Aphelios took your hand with a firm shake. Your hand held the sun's warmth but it didn't burn as he thought. He figured his own hand probably felt like ice to yours.

“What's your name?” You asked the Lunari and you watched intently as he traced letters in the air. So for whatever reason, he was unable to speak? Interesting... “A...phel...ios. Aphelios? Right. Thank you, Aphelios.”

You bowed in thanks. Despite your belief of peace, your lack of prior interaction with the Lunari meant there was a little voice of doubt in your mind, if you could ever find common ground with them. But now, your life indebted to a Lunari, that little voice was no longer there.

“Well... I'll be on my way,” you quickly bid goodbye, turning your back to him. But just as quickly as you turned you felt a cold grip on your wrist. Turning back to Aphelios, he cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy, as if asking, on your way to where, exactly?

“I... I don't know. I don't have anywhere to go,” you admitted. “I have abandoned the Solari and the Lunari...”

Aphelios sent a look your way, a look you couldn't read but you doubted it was good. Your voice diminished to a murmur.

“I didn't become a Ra'Horak by letting the Lunari run free.”

Aphelios froze for a few moments, searching your face. As much as he loathed the thought of the Solari, how he loathed the loss of his allies, would he not be a hypocrite? You deserved to kill him as much as he could kill you. However the mournful look on your face told him everything he needed.

Aphelios took your hand and tugged you towards him as he started to walk off. You frowned as you demanded where he was taking you. He traced the air yet again.

Camp.

“I couldn't possibly-”

Aphelios shushed you and you sighed in resignation. His cool skin made you conscious of just how warm you felt, and you were almost certain it wasn't just because you were a Solari.

Feeling your grip in his hand, Aphelios had never felt warmth so comforting before. Now, he understood your clear conscience. The crime that got you banished was the crime of peace, the repentance for your murders. The belief that the Solari and Lunari can stand together warranted your death. You were no traitor. He unconsciously squeezed your hand in reassurance as he thought of your struggles.

Meanwhile, Alune could be heard laughing joyfully in Aphelios' mind.

“Ever the gentleman, Phel. You were so bold to take their hand like that. Don't fret, brother. I approve of them.”

Aphelios prayed to the moon that you didn't notice how his face rivalled the heat of the sun.

[uponrightful]

So, I love possessive, jealous Crosshair 🥵 Tell me about this scene (please?):

“Trouble doesn’t suit you, doll.” He murmured lowly, soft voice contrasting the slight pressure over her pulse point and the swell of her hip. Crosshair was all-consuming and Dutch was weak to do anything but try to stay silent under his pressing weight and commanding presence at her back.

Also, I’d love to know what Echo was thinking once Cross went to the fresher after Dutch.

You’re the best! 😘

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

*send one in here anytime!*

My oh my! 😍 What spicy scene we have here. I'll start with what's going on with Crosshair first, then I'll come back for Echo and the rest of the Batch. haha

***

Crosshair is fuming with rage during his conversation with Echo: It's that kind of bodily energy you get after watching a action-movie, where your whole body feels tired, but it's twitching with adrenaline that can't be spent or released. That kind of feeling you can't get rid of no matter what you do to ignore it, or work through it. Your mind feels like it working so fast that it's in slow-motion, overanalyzing the smallest details until your grinding your teeth because there's nothing else that helps relieve the pressure.

But the second he enters the refresher all of that energy snaps from anger and fear for Duchess, into dead calm. His inner voice stops screaming and evens out in tone and his hands stop shaking. His breathing slows and the second Cross sees her standing there, it's like he's been meditating deeply for hours. This kind of concentration is only present in Crosshair one other time... And you guessed it. When he's shooting.

Note: This is the epitome of Crosshair's ability to manage impulse-control in unfamiliar -and stressful- situations. Key-word here being "unfamiliar." I firmly believe that Cross is painfully terrible at monitoring and expressing his emotions. He has so many of them all the time that from a young age he had to learn how to turn them off in a moments notice, simply so he could survive. Think about it... How can a sniper worry about his brothers dying right before his eyes and still make clean shots? Not even Crosshair can do that. So the second he's certain Dutch is safe -by visually proving her health- that well-trained nature takes over to protect him like it always does.

Crosshair -at this point- isn't sure what he wants. He needs to touch her though, remind himself that she's tangible and within reach. Not that he isn't aware of his effect on her, but this moment isn't about sexual appeal or attraction. This is desperation, and Crosshair knows that; He's just banking on the hope that she'll let him, because she's always done so. He feels safe with Duchess, and even though this feels/looks sexy, Crosshair feels completely vulnerable right now.

Note: I will say it now; Once and for all. I have never subscribed to the idea that Crosshair is a typical Dominant/BDSM/Sadisim kind of guy. And the distinction is all to do with motivation. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he acts the way he does, and how that manifests itself. So when I planned this scene, I wanted to focus on just how strong his desire to have security is. Not prowess, or control. It's all to do with the desperate need he has to prove how he feels about her. That kind of vulnerability just comes easier to him physically than it does emotionally. Duchess gives him a sense of stability -in and out of the sexual sense- that makes his characterization insanely complex and difficult to balance.

The moment he finds his words, it's a compulsory need to cover his own jealousy. Crosshair is undoubtedly unhappy knowing she went out with Regs... but what's really bothering him is how easy it is to feel so strongly for Duchess. Every time he speaks, it's intentionally driving attention towards someone else, and away from his own desire to be the focus of her attention. Cross uses his fear of her being unsafe to mask the jealousy that constantly compares himself to the others who can give her attention more freely than he can personally. Duchess sees his calm nature as patience and precision, but it's really Crosshair planning out what he's going to say because he knows one wrong move will reveal just how desperate he is to have her acceptance of him.

Note: I've never struggled to balance possessiveness and love like I have with Crosshair. He's so intense that if I'm not careful, he comes off like a walking red-flag. Word choice is essential when getting Cross' character and reactions right. Whether it be the way he talks to her, or the way he naturally falls into a protector role. That's why when I'm writing for him, it takes double the time it does to write anything else. Every movement, every word he says, needs to be written like he says it in the moment. That's the only way to show his softness... because the love that he gives is best felt in person. You can't describe Crosshair's love with words easily.

Now for sweet, sweet, Echo.

Let me preface this by saying: Echo is his brother's keeper. There is a relationship there that goes far deeper than the ones Crosshair holds for his other brothers. It happened slowly, but it wasn't until the two of them were too far into it that either recognized what had happened. Their personalities are something that wouldn't really mix on first glance, but for some reason or another, they just get each other. It's natural, and they gravitate towards each other.

That being said, Duchess and Echo are their own kind of dynamic. I see them as the "platonic-soulmate" kind. She has an intensity that Echo marvels at, and Dutch knows she could take any problem to him and he would do anything to help her. They both see something in the other that they wish they still had, or could develop. It's probably the purest friendship Duchess has ever had, and Echo can't help but harken back to Fives when he sees her attitude -in future chapters.

Note: From the first moment I created Duchess, I just knew in my heart she was meant to be something special to Echo. To me, it was only right that Crosshair's doll would feel strongly connected to Echo as well. Add in their common feeling of loss for brothers, and that just made their relationship that much stronger. She's such a force, and the ARC trooper can't help but find a enamorment with people who have such a strong will and fiery personality. (See Fives)

The moment Echo sees Crosshair, he's already preparing to do anything necessary to protect Duchess from incurring another possible hit to her bruised emotions. Echo trusts Crosshair, but he's highly attentive to Cross and how raw his emotions are. Their interaction is based in Echo's desire to save the couple from losing the chance to do things the right way. Intuition and experience guide Echo through the whole conversation; He really is flying by the seat of his blacks here... But he's so well-versed in reading Crosshair that none of the other Batcher's even think about offering to be the first one Crosshair faces when he comes in the bunk hall. Echo has unmatched faith in Cross, and this was something both of them knew would happen.

Note: Writing this scene was challenging for a number of reasons. For one, neither Echo or Crosshair really talk a whole lot. They say what they need to, and that's the end of it. So I spent days watching Echo and Crosshair's interactions. Trying to figure out what I could based off the -very little- examples I was given. In that, I found that the two of them hardly ever stand next to each other, but they're constantly sharing glances and looking at each other. Echo and Crosshair have silent conversations all. the. time.

Had Echo not allowed Crosshair to go and see Duchess, their sexy scene would have never happened. (And I played around with that idea very seriously...) Ultimately, Echo's intuition was the deciding factor. That conversation, and Crosshair's attempt at honesty was the reason Echo felt confident in letting him speak to her. And although Echo could sense Crosshair's patience running thin, he'd already told the rest of the Batch to be prepared for any fight. Echo wouldn't put it past Cross to stun him, but a gut-feeling kept him from mentally preparing to do the same thing.

Additionally, it was Echo who made everyone leave the bunk hall. The second Crosshair and himself reached an agreement, Echo was the first to step away. His next move was to shove the rest of the Batch out the doors and give Duchess and Crosshair the privacy needed to work through their shit. And although he expected it to end in sex, the desire to keep their business between them alone was Echo's main motivation to empty the bunk room. Neither Crosshair or Duchess really trust the Batch at this moment -in Echo's mind at least- and risking their privacy wasn't something the ARC would stand for. In the back of his mind though, Echo was terrified that Crosshair would fuck her and leave it at that. He's seen the sniper at his best and his worst, and although his best is wonderful, his worst can be miserable to endure. Echo was praying that Crosshair wouldn't be too harsh -physically and mentally- on Duchess.

When Hunter finally decided enough time had passed, Echo was on edge to see just where the two of them would be. The image of them sleeping in separate bunks: Crosshair pretending to sleep -like always- and Duchess laying quietly and pretending like nothing happened shook Echo to his core. But the second he saw her bunk in a disarray, and her not in it, Echo couldn't help but fucking grin. He was proud of his brother for doing the right thing. For doing something for himself, and not worrying about how it would make him look for once. Add in the way Crosshair reprimanded Tech, and how deathly serious he looked with her sleeping peacefully against him...?

That was the moment Echo knew for certain that Crosshair was never coming back from this. He saw a visible change in his brother, in the way his attitude changed. The way Crosshair wasn't worried about himself, or attempting to hide behind sneers and sarcastic comments. Echo noticed how attuned he was to her in that moment, putting her comfort above all else. For a man who pretended to not care about anything, Crosshair did a terrible job of hiding his true personality when Duchess was curled up into him. And Echo couldn't be happier, knowing that his trust in Crosshair hadn't been for nothing. Not only was his brother experiencing love in a way that all of them desired, but Duchess was never going to live with the question of whether or not someone truly cared for her.

***

I hope this was what you were looking for in-terms of answers 😅. I had a great time writing this for you, and I hope you'll feel comfortable doing this again whenever you feel like it! I love sharing the behind-the-scenes stuff with you! It makes the cuts and editing feel a little less sad knowing I might be able to share some of it with you anyways!

[battlemaiden13]

Master List 1

Here are links to most of the questions/imagines I’ve answered before. This page is updated constantly and I hope it helps you find what your interested in.

I hope this works 

Asks list 

Skeleton Nicknames If your lost 

Clarification on Syrup and Berry

Mutt Vs Syrup 

.

House Next door (or other fanfiction) Specific asks

Thoughts on MC? (As of Hnd Chapter 56, Falling 10, M.A.G.E 5, RTSTZA 5)

HND mc saying “I love you, would you be my boyfriend” (Chapter 55)

The skeletons are just like family to MC (Reaction at chapter 56)

Swimming pool

Pets genders

where the Pets came from 

Pet’s bathroom explained

Doomfanger liking MC more then Edge or Red

What if reader met Berry and Edge First (not Blue and Papyrus) 

Where is HND set? 

Spending time with the skeletons

HND play Among Us

HND in Hogwarts houses 

HND Biggest Fear 

HND Skeletons jobs

HND house blueprints 

HND Kings court if an order was to kiss

HND kings court ordered to twerk 

Finding out about Orange and Syrup’s writing 

God and Goddess high school dating sim in HND

Snipers gift to reader in HND chapter 54

Skeletons rooms

HND brothers interacting with each other 

What would make the HND skeletons cry or get them really angry 

Random Headcanons 

RTSTZA Syrups reaction

RTSTZA have the skeletons encountered any other humans

.

Royal s/o Saga

Skeletons Meet their Royal S/o 

Orange and Syrup elaboration

Syrup getting closer to S/o

Princess and the Pauper

.

Parent Saga

Skeletons find out they’ve got a human pregnant 

S/o goes into labor early

Child's first word is dad

Taking care of small children

Child is kidnapped

Teaching the kids to deal with bullies

Skeletons as uncles

HT and UF as husbands and dads

Shy Child Trilogy PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Their child wants them to train them 

.

SFW

Headcanons for Undyne and Alphys

Would the Skeletons let a human boss them around? 

Could Humans do Magic?

Explosion scare

Who would be a Food Judge for a cooking contest

Younger brothers first words

Secretly drawing them

How do the skeletons react to you Singing for your food

What would make the boy's Soul glow?

You’re Oblivious

Sans’ personalities cooking skills

You’re ashamed of your Freckles 

Orange and honey food

What does Sniper cook?

S/o is already married PART 1, PART 2

Love Triangle PART 1, PART 2

Cracking bones PART 1, PART 2

Wrong number

Ecto-bodies PART 1, PART 2

Feelings on food trucks

Protective of skeletons brother 

S/o unaffected by the cold

Who would like entertainment venues?

Snippets of Syrup trapping Orange in his sleep

5’1” human physically picking up skeleton

Blue and Red & Berry and Orange Friendship Headcanons

Absentmindedly speak a pun

How they help you through grief

S/o acts as a parental figure towards their own siblings

Sans’ personalities worried about messes attracting bugs

Prank wars

Do the skeletons like hotels or similar things?

S/o is an introvert

Meeting S/o through Frisk/Chara

Clumsy S/o

Crush thinks they might be gay

Glued to skeletons in public 

Favourite tastes in food (Sweet, savory, ect.)

Curvy S/o wears tight clothing

Red with a super affectionate S/o 

S/o makes Red is favourite food to help him after a stressful day at work

s/o is desperate to make Syrup happy

S/o spoils the skeletons

Skeletons befriending a goofy human that tends to stare blankly in random intervals

Ghost Mc headcanons

S/o giggles at everything, even when gravely hurt

S/o dyes their hair but someone says it looks bad

S/o already has a partner but that partner is cheating on them

S/o is basically a walking pharmacy 

Timeline reset/reload before Skeleton met S/o 

Skeletons pretending to be prompts for halloween

Skeletons Feelings on halloween 

#/10 how good are the skeletons at carving pumpkins 

S/o making skeletons favourite food from scratch 

S/o has two very protective guard dogs

S/o is a secret dragon 

Walking in on brother and their s/o being cute 

 s/o having Asperger's/sensory overload?

S/o with a huge scar on their neck from trauma

Vintage Wardrobe 

Lovey dovey drunk

Where the skeletons prefer to live

City slicker S/o prefers small villages 

Overprotective brother

High fives

UF S/o is a professional chef

S/o thinks they are heavy because of something the skeletons said

Combo attacks

Trusting towards humans 

How the skeletons met their respective Undyne and Alphys

card games, computer online/mmos/ mmorpg games, and board games popularity

S/o asks do you want to have a bad time?

S/o who acts like Underfell Papyrus

Doomfanger gets attached to your cats

S/o makes their own custom prosthetics

Who likes Spongebob Squarepants 

Do compliments and praise go to the skeletons head

Who is comfortable walking around without a shirt 

Walking past a sleeping skeleton 

Positivity to cheer up depressed friend

Glomp tackle Friend 

Human bossing them around 

Can humans use magic

S/o gives amazing cuddles

NM, Ink, Dream, Error and Fresh crushing on the enemy 

Planning a Kid’s birthday party

Dream with a Goddess of Balance 

Looney tunes or Animaniacs 

S/o can’t sleep by themselves anymore 

Accidentally ripped skeletons scarf/jacket/bandana

S/o watching christmas movies early

S/o stress cleans from emotional trauma

Skeletons Swimsuits

S/o tells the skeletons they make them feel safe

Skeletons covered in marker

S/o with the same sleep schedule as Orange 

S/o sewed their skeleton a new set of clothing 

What confuse the skeletons about human anatomy 

San’s personalities met the swap version of the fallen child 

S/o acts like a motherly figure 

Orange and Syrup with a S/o with super long hair

Biggest pet peeves

Confused the skeletons when they reached the surface 

S/o never blushes 

S/o has a phobia of doctors and dentists 

Reaction to learning of mosquitos and blood drives 

Growing food 

Syrup drinking maple syrup

Cursed arm 

Bad Argument with S/o

S/o saying they like the skeletons laugh

Karaoke

Skeleton Birthdays 

S/o is easily sunburnt and found passed out in the yard

Classic, Geno, Error, and Fresh, how they act when they are cuddled by their s/o

Neighbour jumps out with a water gun

Which of the skeletons are overprotective 

Mettaton and Napstaton types of actors and musicians 

Do the Skeletons consider themselves professional chefs

MC is a meme lord 

S/o is cold all the time 

Complicated family Tree

Skeletons Favourite bad Movies 

Skeletons as Disney Princesses 

S/o has never been in a relationship 

S/o is suddenly fearful of skeletons 

S/o has an at home daycare

S/o cracking bones 

Grillby Headcannons 

Laughing box in the hand trick

Papyrus and Blue are challenged to a serious rumble 

Would the skeletons let a touch their Ectobody

S/o is expressive in body language 

S/o has tourettes 

Halloween costumes for 2020

Skeletons crush has a crush on their brother 

Do the skeletons need glasses 

Papyrus and Blue cursing 

S/o with an interesting pet

Would Syrup admit he’s a yandere 

The skeletons as Henry VIII wives

Friendship headcannons with a pair of brothers 

Berry and Syrup in a poly relationship 

Dating someone with ADHD

Edge with a Clingy S/o

Syrup with a insecure S/o who craves affection

S/o encounter with a were creature 

Kundere fawning over a pet 

S/o stress bakes 

S/o is very fast with tasks 

[missmaxime]

how do you feel about the show making rio so unlikable? is the backstory a fix it?

Let me start of with that I don’t think the show is making Rio more unlikable. I don’t know if you mean that they are visibly showing him committing more violence and crime. But I’m assuming this is an ask in response to the wire-scene from Sunday’s episode.  Watch me under the cut go through the past three seasons and a little some season 4 to tell you how I see Rio’s character progression. I’m not really sure if this is what you’re asking an answer to, but if it’s not tell me! * Rio’s (non) POV * Escalation in violence * Different views on S3 * More into the wire-scene * Prediction for 4x06 / Backstory

Rio has always been shown to be a ruthless and violent criminal. In the beginning of S1 he had no problem murdering the girls, and has made death threats ever since. He shot Dean, killed Eddie, had Turner assassinated and murdered Lucy in front of the girls. I don’t know how people can see him any other way, it’s not something that was ever hidden by the show. He’ll go through every length to protect himself and his business.  We know Beth has been a soft spot for him since Season 1 too. In the beginning because it was a fun and interesting business opportunity, but we’ve seen their relationship develop for better and worse across seasons. I think we have to keep in mind that Rio is a character we’ve seen almost exclusively through POV that aren’t his own, and mostly through Beth’s. And we as viewers see a limited amount of information about him, that we translate in our own ways. I’ve seen people interpreted the 2x01 scene where Rio shows Marcus to Beth through such rose-colored glasses for example. I can see how a viewer, and Beth, could see it as a scene that would frame him as more likeable. But I also see how that was exactly Rio’s point; He wanted Beth to see that it’s not just her who has kids on the line with her crime-life, as a way to invalidate her constant argument of ‘being a mom’ and ‘having a family’ as if that would make her special or something. She’s a drug dealer and counterfeiter like him, not a criminal with a heart of gold because they happen to have a child. Season 2 really started unpacking Rio’s character more. In Season 1, if the whole Rio/Beth – CH/MM chemistry hadn’t existed, I could definitely see the character of Rio being done late Season 1/early Season 2. But that’s not what happened, so now Rio had to become a person with connections and feelings and deeper motivations – but it’s still a character that’s in the base there to drive Beth forward as a character and deeper into crime. Which is a tricky balance, and I don’t think the show always made that work. Obviously the most clear example of that is the loft scene in 2x13. Now there’s more than one thing to be said about that scene, but I’m focusing now Rio himself. It’s the big finale, a lot of things needed to come together here and explode. Overall I don’t think the build-up was executed well, but it doesn’t help that we have no Rio POV here. His decision to kidnap Beth, confront her with her lack of taking responsibility and lying about her rotten eggs, and his complete oversight of her response to being pinned his fall guy really dropped out of – maybe not completely thin, but at least barely medium thick – air for me. Concerning the racial element I think THIS POST by @septiembrre explains this much better than white, non-American me ever will.  Regardless of the fact if the racial element of 2x13 affects a viewer, this poorly executed finale left lots of people unsatisfied at best. When Season 3 started we did start to see more Rio POV, or parts of his story told through Rhea, even though it was limited. I know there’s a lot of critique on the S3 we got, that I personally don’t understand – I loved it, it was so amazingly angsty, especially the Beth and Rio interactions were so loaded and simmering with guilt and anger and sadness and desperation – but if you’re searching for catharsis in a way of Rio coming back with a vengeance with guns ablaze, then that’s really not what you got. What Season 3 did do was putting the violence and cruelty Rio is capable of more on the forefront, and making us feel the weight of it more (I don’t know about the rest of you, but in the previous seasons I felt they really underplayed a lot of it). Rio had competing gangs taken out through Turner, has Turner assassinated along with a lot of other FBI agents, he fully intended on killing Beth before the pregnancy lie, kills innocent Lucy through Mick and disposes her body gruesomely, has the girls deliver Boomer with all intention of harming him (if not murder) and full on frames Beth for Lucy’s murder with her prints on the gun. I don’t think these kind of actions weren’t going on in the previous seasons, but now it’s more on display because Rio made Beth a part of this side of crime (and with that, us the viewers). In the beginning of Season 4 I feel like we’re making a bit of a jump when it comes to Beth and Rio’s relationship, maybe one that’s a little too big compared to the distance we ended on in Season 3 (even if they seemed friendly in their last Boland Bubbles scene). Lucy’s body is found and we learn that said gun was also used to taking out some gang member of an opposing gang of Rio’s, so after Turner’s sweep he apparently wasn’t done. That gun now becomes a much bigger thing to hold over Beth (and I’m speculating because we don’t know for sure, but we can guess that now Annie’s prints are on it – which is an ever bigger press on Beth because she won’t let her little sister take the fall, while she would do so herself. And I think she’s up for a rude awakening that while she’s under the impression that Rio has always employed the three of them, what was actually going on is that Rio employs Beth, and he sees Annie and Ruby as Beth’s employees and thereby offers them zero protection). So her counter with his print doesn’t come a moment too soon. I feel like Beth asking him to murder ‘Dave’, albeit with a lie about his identity and not as straightforward as Rio might wish, is a positive shift for him. She might not pick up a gun herself to do the deed, but much like Rio has Mick shoot Lucy, she very deliberately gives a killing order through him. And with a very drama heaux set-up we see him personally – and he has no reason to not have Mick do it – shoot Fitzpatrick. Aside from the fact that I have no doubt Rio may not have knew the specifics but he knew Beth had something orchestrated, the fact that some sniper dude was the target has it really drive home to him that it’s something else than Secret Service, and that they are still active around Beth. So we’re finally here, 4x05 The Banker – which I’m gonna guess was the reason you send this ask in the first place. In particular the wire-scene. In the first scene we learn that Rio has found the tracker on his car, and he turns it off or breaks it – so he knows he’s still being watched. It makes the most sense that even if he takes the leap that he put down a Secret Service agent, that they just replaced them and Beth is likely still working for them. He meets her in her kitchen – which isn’t that common at this point, last we know he was there is after the failed hit on him. And she doesn’t even jump when she sees him, just accepts it. He motions for her to be quiet before slowly stepping into her space, and she very logically responds with a ‘what are you doing?’, and he stares back long and hard to say that he means business. He has all the reason to suspect her wearing a wire, even if this wasn’t a planned meeting, and it wouldn’t be the first time she lied to his face. It’s clear to me (but I’ve seen this interpreted differently) that Beth fast finds a solid stance in this powerplay. Rio doesn’t seem happy about the fact it has come to this, and neither does she. I’m not sure if you send me this ask because you have negative feelings about this scene, but I can tell you I can’t answer those. This scenario could have been portrayed so wrong with any other actors or the way they shot it, but I feel like they delivered superbly on it. It’s in no way sexual or intimidating like I’ve seen some posts suggest, I just see two brokenhearted people who see the little trust they rebuilt fall apart in in thirty seconds. At the end Beth ends up winning, a bitter win maybe, this confrontation. Rio’s obviously still suspicion, but she also gained some trust with her asking him to kill ‘Dave’, so setting her up as The Banker is some sort of twisted reward and punishment and test at the same time. It’s not explained, but I think ‘The Banker’ might have been a hidden figure before Beth stepped up to show her face (before her flunky’s came to collect in name of The Banker) – making this an even better set-up if it’s so because that takes Rio out of the equation altogether even. We end the episode on the note where Rio tells Beth he has people he answers to, and that they want to meet her. Which, again, sound like both a reward and a punishment and a test. We’ll have to see next Sunday what it really means. IN this episode we’ll meet some of Rio’s family, likely his boss(es) and get backstory on him. I don’t see that as a fix-it, but mostly because I don’t see anything needed of fixing. I’m glad we’re getting an insight into Rio’s past, and I love that it likely will broaden his backstory and motivations more. But I feel like the way Rio’s character and the amount and the way of it seems very fitting to the story and the perspective it’s told through. I’m not sure if this is an answer to your question, so feel free to send me a more specific one if you want to!

[theyanderespecialist]

Cheating 2 (One Shot) Bucky X OC Marie X Steve (1950's AU) (Yandere) (Marvel)

(no one's pov)

Marie was shocked, she didn't know what to say, what she could say..she felt like she was cheating on Bucky when Steve started to come around and make sure she was okay, she never touched him, but she felt an emotional connection. But now..to be held, she was desperate for that. She gripped his hands as she slowly kissed him back, but she didn't know what to think. God.. what if Bucky came home? ....he probably wouldn't even care actually. So there was nothing wrong with this. Steve stayed loyal all this time and never made a move for her sake. Now when he sees her wrong her makes a move and she needed it

(...steve... you're so dead)

(Beyond dead XD)

Marie wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her as she started to cry, not because she was sad, well sad because of the kiss, but because she finally has someone touching her,holding her, letting her know she's important.

(I mean she's like touch starved at this point)

(Yes she is)

(cause like touch starving can take a while but if you are in a relationship with someone, in the same house, and they aren't even paying attention, it can make it worse)

(Yes it can and it also happens in kids who are in abussive house holds they become touch starve for even simple things like hugs. IT is a sad and dangerous case. And we mean could touch like hugs and kisses on head touch starve is not just sexual)

(Yeah like all touch)

(Mmmmhmmm also can happen in infants when they are not skin to skin or neglected without being held as babies. I remember a old video in health class how babies reacted to not getting enough touch or attention. It is terrible of the psyche.)

He pulls away and wipes those tears away. "It is okay, you are the most important thing in my life." He says. "And I will show you just how much I love you and adore you and how important you are."

He picks her up and carried her up to the master bedroom.

(Oh shit you doing it in their bed XD Bucky wont be happy)

She held onto him as she looked up at him. "i-I ..I've only done this once.. I-I'm sorry if I'm not any good--"

"hey don't talk like that." He kisses her. "Actually you will be my first." He says blushing. "I just it did not feel right the idea of making love with someone I did not truly love."

(UGH!!!! Steve XD Why does your name have to be Steve if it was not I be all over that ass XD)

She looked at him for a moment as she smiled at him. "Steve..oh steve." She muttered as she gave a smile touching the side of his face. "How long?" She asked.

(Yeah how long you been thinking about stealing your best friends girl? I mean part of it because romance the other part she has literally no self love anymore and needs it)

"Since the day I met you, I know it is corny but I believe it was love at first sight, but I was not good enough for you, I was weak and wimpy and could not give you the life you deserved. It killed me to stand next to my best friend as his best man and watch the woman I love Marry him." He says kissing down her neck. "I won't make the same mistake twice. I am not loosing you again."

"steve.. when you came the first time, before the serum, I.. I still I had feelings for you..you were never wimpy, you fought even when you couldn't win them.." she muttered softly as she smiled.

He laid his head on her chest and smiled. "I wanted to give you the world..." He says. "But if I had been a man I could given you not the world but what you needed, love, adoration, loyalty and a family. I want to correct that mistake, only if you want me to."

She looked down at him, her hands now running through his hair. "I want you too..I need it Steve." She said softly

"I will give it all and more." He promises sealing it with a kiss and they began to make out heatedly.

He held her close as her hands untied her robe that she was wearing, pulling it off as she kicked it off the bed, not really caring if where it would land, and it end up landing right on the wedding photo of her and Bucky before he left. He kisses down her chest and takes a nipple in her mouth making her moan loudly and he moved one hand down to rub her clit.

She moaned as her hips moved to meet his hand as she gripped the sides of the bed. There was something so wrong about doing this in her and her husband's bed.. but she really didn't care as she arched into Steve.

(uh yeah lady, something super wrong.)

(Yeah I just cant put my finger on it. XD Is it the little red dot on steves head? Or the guy watching from the rooftop across the way or the fact that their is a microchip in your skin XD Something is wrong XD)

(Your husband, who was tortured and lost an arm, who was thought to be dead but was alive, comes back...and youre having sex..not with a stranger..but his best friend (and target))

(XD Oh that XD Yeah that too XD)

(I mean all of thkse are also valid just ...moan out how he's better than bucky why don't you)

(Yeah also do it near the microphone in the wall so he can really hear it XD Oh god Bucky is going to kill us XD)

(XD he's gonna kill you, not me xD but...death would be better)

\

(He is going to fuck you until you can never walk again then take you to a hydra base and never let you see the daylight again while he continues to fuck you until you are filled with his seed XD That is his next mission BABIES XD me I be dead in a ditch rotting while you live a life of making super soldier babies XD)

(Uh...I'll take death is death still on the table?)

(Maybe... if you egg him on enough XD)

Steve smiles in the kiss and slowly slips a finger in making her moan louder and start riding that one finger wanting more.

(I mean I'd have to find a time I WASN'T pregnant Which.. Is never in that scenario)

(Welp you are going be a baby making machine and Bucky will breed you three ways to sunday XD)

(do I at least get the weekends off?)

\

(Hmmmm I think that could be negotiated XD)

She kissed his again as she as waited for him to add the second, which he quickly did as she moaned, this went on for a while until she started whining.

"C-Come on Steve..p-please.." she asked softly as he looked at her and smiled as he kissed her once more as he started pushing in as she moaned.

"Oh god..it feels so good..you already feel so much better than bucky."

(And xD she did it mate. Like...ouch. steve hasn't even done anything and he already feels better than Bucky)

(XD She did he dead XD He deader than dead XD He drop dead burried eight feet XD)

"y-you know steve.. I-I don't want you to pull out. I-I want you and I to start a family"

(just to make it worse

(again....in her and her HUSBAND'S bed)

(XD You might be dead before baby making XD you keep that up XD)

(Hey I'm touch starved, I was vunrable Steve took advantage)

(Damn XD Selling Steve down the river XD)

They continue like this and Steve lined up no condom on and no plans to stop until she was pregnant.

(And another breeder -.- the army be giving these guys something fishy XD)

She smiled at him as he pushed into her as she let out a moan as her hands shoot out, wrapping around Steve.

"D-Do I feel good?" She asked

(praise her. She deserves it Steve. I don't know why she does, but she does)

(She waited over a year for it she deserves it XD)

"You feel so wonderful~" He purrs. "Better than I ever imagined."

She let out a small, happy moan as she smiled. "I-imagined huh? You think about it a lot?" She teased

(all must give at least 3 praises for praise kink Marie.)

(all hail praise Kink Marie! XD)

"Yes every day since I met you imagine how you feel milking me dry and filling you up with my seed how pretty you look all hot and sweaty under me." He says. "They can never compare to the real thing."

She blushed bit the smile on her face and the pure happiness in her eyes it was something Steve hadn't seen for over a year.

(Awwww)

(So damn sweet!)

He kisses her deeply. "There it is~" He says. "That perfect smile that makes my stomach do flip flops every time I see it."

(Oh god steve you sweetheart! Cinnamon roll)

She blushed darkly as she moaned when he thrust gently, it was..sweet. she covered her face at his words, yet even her ears were red, and she could try and hide it..but her smile was so big, he could see behind her hands. He grins kissing her face all over and then they started to fuck and oh did they fuck he kept praising her and she felt more love than any other time in her life. They both came together and then Steve smiles until he sees a red sniper light on the wall. He pulls Marie to the floor right when a bullet goes into the house.

[notchesandbullets]

World Upside Down (Bullied!Shy!Reader x Big Brother!Dragons+Hak) Modern AU

Words: 2.3k

"Yona!!" You cried, bursting into her room with tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N?!" She hurried over to you. "What's wrong?!"

You tossed your phone to her in mortification. Her eyes widened in shock as they landed on the post. Someone had taken a picture of you doing something quirky, and posted it to social media. The comments were extremely toxic, and hundreds of people had already viewed it.

"Oh no..." Yona let your phone fall back down to the mattress, engulfing you in a hug.

You were sobbing into her shoulder, completely overwhelmed with humiliation and embarrassment. It might not seem like a very big deal to some, but to you, this felt you were exposed. Your privacy, invaded.

Yona heard the rapid footfalls of her housemates and a second later, her bedroom door was flung open again. In came five very worried, very ready to beat up anyone who made you cry, older brothers.

You couldn't calm down enough to answer their frantic questions. Zeno immediately went over to you, hugging you tightly and whispering reassuring words in your ear. Shin-ah was right behind him, placing his pet squirrel, Ao, on your shoulder. The furry creature rubbed her cheek against yours, making you let out a tearful laugh. Shin-ah and Zeno smiled softly at the sound.

Kija was wailing and crying with you, unsure of how to help, but certainly ready to be of assistance however he could. Jae-ha was braced against the wall, the farthest away from you and you reached out your arms. Silently begging for a hug.

He walked over without hesitation, dropping down beside you and embracing you closely, planting a small kiss on your hair. Hak's gaze was murderous as Yona handed him your phone. Jae-ha looked up questioningly at the younger and his body tensed in fury as Hak showed him the screen. Kija's mouth dropped open in shock that someone would say something so mean about you, then he stormed out of the room.

Jae-ha broke apart from you. Your cries had reduced to sniffles by now, and you were trying desperately to wipe away the tears that had rolled down your face. Shin-ah's lips drew back in a snarl as Hak passed your phone to him, and the only indication that Zeno was bothered was the slight darkening of his eyes.

"Oh hell no." Hak stormed past Jae-ha who didn't try to stop him, the elder even turning on his heel to follow him out. "They're going to pay."

There was a maniacal glint in Kija's eye. "No one messes with our sister." He declared.

"They better stay out of our way." Shin-ah's normally soft voice was hard with rage. Then he shrugged noncommittally. "Or not. I'll kill them either way."

Hak ordered, "Kija, bring the guns."

"Got it." The white-haired man ran to the room where they stored all of their weapons. They had a surprising surplus of them that would be alarming if you had never seen them fight before.

Hak owned a gun range, the military regularly using it for practice. You had no idea how that all came to be. There were rumors floating around that he was secretly a government operative, and in all honesty, you wouldn't be too surprised if he was.

Kija, strangely, was rather good with extendable metal claws that he had made in high school. They were crafted from steel and made to imitate the claws of a dragon. He rarely parted with them and they were his go-to weapon in a fight.

Jae-ha specialized in Capoeira, a fluid style of martial arts that used acrobatics to evade attacks while offensively utilizing kicks and punches. He was also quite skilled with knives. Scarily so. It was a good thing you weren't on his bad side, not that he would have the heart to hurt you even if you did.

Shin-ah knew swordsmanship from his adoptive father, who was also named Ao, who taught him at a young age. Zeno tended to prefer defensive tactics, but you've seen him fight offensively before and it was quite a force to be reckoned with.

Then, Hak's announcement shocked you back into reality.

"What?!"

"Yeah, Shin-ah, that sword's a good idea." The seriousness in Jae-ha's voice alarmed you.

"Now, wait a second!" You protested.

Zeno's normally cheerful personally shifted to something ferocious."We got their names right? They won't live to see another day."

Protective Zeno was surprisingly dark.

"Hang on a second!" You spread your arms in the doorway, preventing them from leaving. They could've easily all pushed past you, but they didn't. They looked down at you curiously, the blood-thirst heavy in the air. "You shouldn't kill them!!"

"Why not?" Zeno asked innocently. "They hurt our baby sister. They have to pay."

Shin-ah nodded silently, tapping the hilt of his sword against the palm of his hand threateningly. He was more than ready for them.

You sighed exasperatedly, sending a pleading look to Yona. "Can you at least convince Hak for me?" You begged.

The Thunder Beast peered closely at you. "Convince me of what?"

You threw up your hands. "This is not a good idea! What happens afterwards! They're going to come again-"

"Actually," Jae-ha stated flatly, raising a hand to interrupt you. "They won't be alive so you don't need to worry about that."

"What about how much trouble you'll get in?!" You were grasping at straws here. They really didn't seem eager to let go of their vengeance.

Kija shrugged nonchalantly. "Seems like a small price to pay for protecting you."

He had metal claws in his grip, and handed Hak several firearms.

Shin-ah nodded in agreement with his older brother. Zeno reached over, patting you on the head lightly. "If you really don't want us to, Zeno will listen! But Zeno cannot speak for the others."

You gave him a weak smile, biting your lip.

You really had no idea what to do.

Yona came over, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then turned her burning violet gaze onto your brothers.

"Let's go."

You sputtered in surprise as they all left, and you made no motion to stop them. You sunk to the floor, with your face in your hands.

This wasn't going to end well.

It wasn't until hours later that they returned. Your worried gaze scanned them automatically for injuries, but there was no blood in sight. You breathed a sigh of relief. They were okay.

"Y/N!!" You looked up as you saw Yoon speeding towards you. He crashed into you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "Are you alright?!"

You nodded against his neck, eyes closing. It had been a while since you last saw him, he was so busy with medical school. Even though he was young, he was nothing short of a genius, and after he had run into Hak and Yona one day, your little group had taken him under your wing.

You pulled back from the hug, addressing the apprehensive group before you. "Where did you all go?"

Yona beamed brightly at you, and even Hak cracked a genuine smile, handing you back your phone. You hadn't even noticed that it was missing, too distracted by the turmoil of events that had all happened so fast.

You looked down hesitantly, but what your eyes landed on made them water with overwhelming joy.

They had gone into the city, and taken a series of pictures. Each had one word in it, with the gang all pointing to it excitedly.

They made up the sentences: Y/N's the best! We love Y/N!! There's no one like her!!

The caption made fresh tears fall down your face. You were guessing Yona had written it, but you could spot the elements of your brothers' influence in it.

"There's no one like her. She's the goofiest, most crazy, lovable, most caring, kind and faithful person anyone could ever hope to have. We're so lucky to be in her circle of friends, and we're proud of who she is!! If anyone's got a problem with that, you don't know what you're missing out on."

The comments were largely positive this time around. More people had liked the post than had seen the other video of you, and you felt like you were going to cry again. There were still some ones who didn't have anything nice to say, but you were so touched and moved by your friends that it didn't seem to matter anymore.

"Ah, damn it!" Hak tugged at his hair roughly. Kija frowned at your tears. "I knew we should've killed them instead!"

"No!" You cried out, yanking your phone back to your chest as Hak moved to grab it. "This is perfect." Your heart felt warm all over.

"Thank you." You said softly, looking down at your feet.

They all smiled fondly at you, happy that you liked their gift. Yona had to talk them all down, despite wanting to do less than ethical things to the bullies too. She was proficient in archery, and Hak was teaching you how to handle a sniper rifle.

"Come here, you rare beasts." Yoon announced, holding up several bags of groceries that you didn't notice before. "And Y/N and Yona. It's time for dinner."

Hak complained about how he wasn't a dragon, so it didn't apply to him, and Yoon promptly whacked him over the head. You giggled, and Shin-ah looked at you happily, glad to hear that sound again.

He couldn't stand the sound of you crying, he hated it more than anything else in the world. It also made Jae-ha's heart break when you were sad, especially if he couldn't do anything about it.

Whenever Hak saw you were upset, he wanted to do something immediately to fix the problem, but sometimes you just needed him to stay with you and hear you out. Zeno's presence always cheered you up and made you smile, and Kija's antics usually had the same result.

You seemed to put the negativity from this morning behind you. Smiling brightly, you followed Yoon into the kitchen as he continued to berate the self-proclaimed Thunder Beast.  The rest of them filed in eventually, Zeno ducked into his room.

"No, don't put that there!" Yoon smacked Hak's hand which was dangling a piece of carrot above the boiling water away from the pot. "Yona, wait-"

Sauce flew clear across the room, painting the wall the same shade of red as her hair. You were sitting on the counter, watching the craziness unfold with your mouth dropped open.

"Argh!" The pretty boy was starting to get fed up. "Okay, I need to cook the meat first. Jae-ha... cut that so I can season it."

The green-haired man nodded obediently but tripped over Shin-ah who was lying in the middle of the floor, causing the food in his hand to go tumbling down to the ground. Shin-ah reflexively brought his hand up to catch the falling meat, but that set off another chain reaction as Yona also dived for it. She crashed into Shin-ah and Jae-ha landed on top of her heavily.

In a second, Hak heaved Jae-ha to his feet, getting in close to his face.

"Yah!" Yoon yelled, straining to be heard above the noise. "If you're going to fight, go outside!"

Jae-ha was holding up his hands innocently, protesting against Hak's grip on the front of his shirt. He broke free, only to back away into Yoon, who was stirring the soup. The spoon he was holding clattered loudly to the tile floor.

Your eyes widened as he whipped around and everyone cringed at the anger in his eyes.

"GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!!!"

They all scurried out, thoroughly chastised by mother. You hesitantly dropped down from the counter, making your way over the boy who was jerkily preparing the food.

"Yoon?" Your soft voice was timid and he turned around abruptly, tension easing as he saw the uncertainty swimming in your eyes.

He sighed, the sound echoing around the nearly empty kitchen. "Do you want to help?"

You nodded eagerly, lighting up at the idea. Yoon gave you a lopsided smile. "Cut the vegetables. I'll rescue the meat."

You two worked in tandem seamlessly. In no time at all, dinner was ready and Yoon was gathering the adults on the couch in the living room.

Once they were all lined up, you stifled a giggle as you noticed the varying degrees of guilt on their faces. Only Zeno was the one who looked confused as the why the boy in front of him had smoke blowing out of his ears.

"Now look here." Yoon reprimanded, jabbing a finger at the gang. "We're supposed to be cheering up Y/N because of what happened earlier today."

You stiffened, the reality of this morning's events flooding back to you and overtaking your mind. However, you could still hear Yoon as he continued his speech.

"Behave yourselves, or else," His bright blue eyes flashed in warning. "No dinner for a week."

They all bowed, "Yes, mother."

"I DON'T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!!" He shouted in annoyance.

You laughed, the dynamic would forever be something consistent for you. The bullies faded into the background as you focused on the way your brothers roughly bantered with each other, pulling Yona into the chaotic mix.

They had shown you that people will do and say whatever they wanted to, but you had people who loved you no matter what. They loved you for you, and that'll forever stay with you.

[lyrishadow]

Stay

Prompt 1: “I need you.” Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda Title: Stay Pairing: Scott Ryder/Kaidan Alenko Rating: T Warnings/Tags: none

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34202500

"Kaidan?" The voice next to him seemed kind of hazy but a voice he liked. "Damit, you are not going to die on me. Alenko!" Kaidan tried to open his eyes.

"Settle down Scott, don't scare my patient please." As Kaidan tried to figure himself out he came to recognize the doctor was not doctor Chakwas. He half-opened his eyes and blinked them closed again against the light.

"SAM, I need an update on Kaidan's implant please."

"Yes, Dr T'perro."

"C'mon Kaidan, it's damn heroic that you saved me, but … I need you." Scott leaned closer to him not seeing the half-open brown eyes through his tear-filled blue ones.

"You don't know how I am in love with you if you don't come back... if I lose you too, I don't know what to do."

"Scott?" Dr. T'perro sounded a little kinder "you need to go take care of Pathfinder business, I promise you, I will take care of Kaidan."

"Oh, God... the conference call, I'm on it." Scott touched his hand to Kaidan’s forehead before turning and striding quickly from the room.

Half an hour later Kaidan woke fully in a quiet med bay. Had he just imagined Scott being there?

"Ah you are awake," the doctor ran her scanner looking for problems "how is your head?"

"I think I'm, OK?" Kaidan sat up slowly.

"SAM?"

"I am able to check to make sure Kaidan does not have a concussion, I suggest rest, however."

"Where is Scott?" Damn it did that sound desperate?

"Please rest." The doctor said quietly. Kaidan frowned.

"Why where is he?"

"He's fixing one of Liam's messes." Doctor T'perro replied, her tone speaking to exactly what she thought of that particular mess.

"Is he ok?"

"You are the one who took the full brunt of the Adhi charging." She shook her head "if I had hair, it would all be grey."

"Oh, I just meant…." Kaida got his feet on the floor, reassuringly without being dizzy.

"The Pathfinder has been messaging me every ten minutes since he left." Doctor T'perro suddenly looked at Kaidan "Am I missing something?"

"Um." Kaidan felt his face turn red as he tried to hastily think of another topic. "I… your trying to make me squirm aren't you?"

"Yes, I took matchmaking 101: lock the dumb idiots in a room and make them talk. You two might want to consider that as some advice, before someone else yells it at you."

Kaidan laughed then sighed. "Well. You aren't entirely wrong."

"Feeling the dumb idiot bruises are we?" the doctor had scanned him again.

"Somewhat." Kaidan tried to stand, taking things very slowly. " There is an age difference, and I doubt anyone is going to think kindly of him for dating me.."

"Kaidan, you know what he lost. I don't think age plays any role in whether you love him or not."

"Yeah." Scott had lost his dad, his partner, and nearly lost his sister. All within a week of landing here. Kaidan had seen the sniper use his training to mask how he felt, and just force himself to carry on. When Kaidan had first seen Scott, battered and bruised from death, and the falls on Habitat 7, he had felt pity for how lost the man looked. Now he just admired him. A lot.

"Oh. Um. I'm going to go find someplace to rest." Kaidan slipped out of the med bay and sighed "SAM can you let me into the Pathfinders cabin please?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Ah, not really, I just want to talk to Scott." SAM unlocked the door and Kaidan restlessly paced until he had to rest.

When Scott finally walked in, Kaidan watched as he walked over to where the bed was, his mind clearly on the mission he had just finished.

"Woah." Scott gasped, turning to see him, not exactly expecting him to be resting on his bed.

"Um. Hi, there " Kaidan lifted his hand in a wave "Sorry for the surprise."

"I.. Um, it's OK. Really, my room is quieter than everywhere else."

"It wasn't just that, I wanted to see you when you got back." This was going well, Kaidan groaned to himself, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands.

"You had some business to talk over?" Scott asked carefully.

"I Um no… uh… I’m not good at…” Kaidan shook his head helplessly, not even six hundred years had improved his ability to flirt with people.

“Well, maybe we should just talk?” Scott said quietly. He sat on the opposite end of the bed, facing Kaidan.

“Yeah. That.” Kaidan sighed “Look if you think I am too old…or if it isn't right ... I..”

“Too old?” Scott looked at his hands with a sudden interest “For?”

“Um.” Kaidan slowly stood - still not trusting his head entirely - and walked around to where Scott was trying to avoid eye contact. “Scott?”

“Kaidan. I don’t know if you heard me before.” Scott stared at his hands.

Kaidan sat down on the bed right in front of him.

“Scott?” He said again, catching hold of his hands. “Stop thinking the worst.”

“You are just going to tell me I’m young and stupid, and can’t possibly know that…”

“Scott.” Kaidan sighed.

"Kaidan, I'm not a kid, I'm not dumb, I might be a bad choice for Pathfinder, who knows why Dad picked me, I might be a lousy brother but…"

"Scott…." Kaidan almost groaned his name, it was killing him to not just pull the remarkable, stubborn, crazy, idiot into his arms "I'm not trying to say that."

"You're not?" Scott finally looked up stunned, "then….what are you saying?"

"First, promise me to actually listen." Kaidan replied, with a shake of his head.

Scott nodded, leaning forward to listen.

"Scott, I like you, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. "

"You. Me?"

"Yes." Finally Kaidan could see that Scott understood. Though he hadn't spoken in a moment, which was a concern.

"SAM?" Scott said finally, "Can you please lock the door and give us privacy?"

"Of course Pathfinder, please use the code we agreed on."

"Thanks SAM."

"Scott, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I think, for the first time since I arrived in Andromeda I might have an inkling of what I hoped to find. Instead of what I've lost." Scott touched Kaidan's hand gently "it makes me hope."

"Good." Kaidan grinned "I think I'm not going to hold back, all the Reds and stuff the Alliance had - they don't mean much for the Initiative."

"Kaidan?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Best offer I have heard for a week." Kaidan replied as he turned toward Scott.

The first kiss started a little awkward, as they found each other, but took it's time, giving enough promise and hope for things to come.

"Mm. Need to practice that. " Scott said as they rested foreheads together, stupid grins on their faces.

"We can just tell everyone right?" Kaidan asked, to which Scott nodded.

"Boyfriend." Scott murmured trying the title "would you move in here, I Um would rather have you closer."

"I'd rather be closer but isn't the first date too soon?"

"Is this where I point out we have slept in the same room, and bed since Hab 7? You saved me, you have no idea."

Kaidan kissed Scott gently and sighed. "I do, I remember how low you were. How much I wished I could just hold you…."

"You were awesome, I think I fell in love with you pretty quickly." Scott confessed " I'm glad you are here. With everything going on, please stay."

[ihatecoconut]

Misunderstood

Cross Posted to AO3

“Race, c’mon.” Jack called, “I don’t have time to stand outside here and yell at you until you come out, but I will.”

There was a muffled response from the other side of the door, which Jack chose to interpret as an affirmative, but was more likely a repetition of the ‘fuck off’- the only thing he had heard from Race since he had locked himself in the bathroom. He still didn’t know why.

Race had come home almost half an hour ago, slammed the front door and locked himself in the bathroom. Jack, who had stuck his head out of the kitchen at the door slam had just had enough time to watch Race borderline sprint to the bathroom and lock the door. He had been in their since, had only started responding to Jack after twenty minutes, and Jack was pretty certain he had been crying.

“Race please.”

“Fuck off, Jack!” Yeah, definitely crying, Jack could hear the crack in his voice.

He sighed and slid down the wall until he was sitting in their tiny corridor opposite the bathroom door. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Who said I want your help?” Race retorted.

That, Jack decided, was progress. It was something out of him other than ‘fuck off’ and it was also kind of an acknowledgement that something was wrong.

“Alright, how about Davey’s help?”

Race didn’t respond to that, choosing instead to throw something at his side of the door- or that was what Jack assumed he did, considering all he heard was a thump and he couldn’t actually see Race. Either way, he took it as an affirmative.

Cowboy: hey can u come over smthns up w race

DaveyBaby: Yeah, of course, do you know what it is?

Cowboy: nope hes looked himself in the bathroom & wont say anyth or come out

DaveyBaby: I’m on my way, I’ll be about ten minutes

Cowboy: thanks.

Davey didn’t respond, and Jack took that to mean that he had put his phone away in order to drive. Ten minutes- he could deal with ten minutes of unresponsive Race; he’d been dealing with Race since they both moved in to Medda’s nearly eight years ago.

“Are you gonna talk to me yet?”

“Fuck off, Jack.”

Apparently not.

*

Davey arrived exactly ten minutes later, as expected because he never drove over the speed limit, no matter the emergency (‘I won’t be able to help in an emergency if I’ve been pulled over by the police, Jack!’) and he always perfectly calculated the amount of time it would take him to drive said speed limit. The only indicator that Davey was as worried about this as he was, was the fact that he opened the front door and let himself in, rather than knocking and waiting for Jack.

“Where is he?”

Jack waved his hand listlessly at the door, “Still in there.”

“Alright,” he raised his voice slightly, “Race?”

A pause. A thump. “What?”

“Are you gonna come out?”

“No.”

Any other time, Race would have jumped at the opportunity to make a joke about being gay and coming out, but instead of throwing out the ‘I’m gay’- even miserably- he didn’t make it at all. Jack watched as the crease in Davey’s brow deepened.

“How long has he been in there?”

“About forty minutes now.”

He nodded, and Jack could almost see him breaking down the problem in his head, “Race?”

“What?”

“Have you eaten today?”

There was a small, broken sob and Davey’s eyes widened, panicked.

“Yeah,” Race said, “I ate.”

The two of them exchanged a confused glance,

Davey turned back to the door. “Uh, have you got a drink?”

There was a quiet sniff that they only picked up on because they were listening out for any more sobs, “No.”

“Will you open the door enough to take a water bottle?”

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Davey’s unconscious mothering.

“Yeah,” Race sighed, “I guess.”

Davey smiled, looking slightly relieved, “Thank you. I’ve got one here.”

A hand stuck itself out of the crack that appeared, and Davey placed a water bottle- that he had apparently just brought with him in his satchel? - in it. The hand disappeared quite quickly after that and there was the sound of Race re-locking the door. Jack looked up at Davey.

“What now?” he mouthed

Davey held up a hand- the universal sign for ‘hold on’- “Race? We’re gonna go into the kitchen now. Shout or come out if you need anything, ok?”

“Yeah.”

Davey nodded and bit his lip, the worried look was back in his eyes and Jack wasn’t feeling any better than he had been ten minutes ago, the only positive he could see was that he- the most emotionally stilted person he knew- was not dealing with this alone. Carefully, the two of them moved into the kitchen. “Where was he?” Davey asked quietly, glancing back at the corridor before looking Jack straight in the eyes.

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, keeping his voice to the same volume, “he said he was going out, I asked him if he was meeting someone and he said yeah and then left so…”

“You don’t know who he met?”

Jack shook his head apologetically.

“Ok, ok. Let’s go down the list.”

“Huh?”

“Our friends. You know, people he could have been with.”

“Right, ok, go ahead.”

Davey nodded and pulled out a pen, “Paper?”

When Jack finally found a blank piece of paper, Davey spilt it into two columns- ‘Not’ and ‘Possible’. Down the ‘Not’ column, he wrote ‘Davey, Jack, Sarah, Katherine, Albert.’

“Albert?”

“Sarah was helping him with his math class.”

“Ah, ok.” Jack took the pen and added to the column, ‘Elmer, Smalls, Sniper, Crutchie’

“Were they with you?”

“Yeah. Except Crutchie, he was at Medda’s today.”

“Alright, and now the possible column.”

Together they managed to collect the rest of their friends’ names in the other column- ‘Tommy, Mike, Ike, Blink, Mush, Spot, Finch, Henry, JoJo, Buttons, Specs, Romeo.’

“That’s a much longer list.” Jack pointed out, unhelpfully, “What are we gonna do, text everyone and ask if they were with Racer?”

“Unless you have any other ideas, yeah.”

“I’ll take the top six then.”

Davey nodded reluctantly- it wasn’t the best way they could do this, and it was a little bit of an invasion of Race’s privacy, but Race never cried and he wasn’t offering anything they could do- so they both sat down, ready to text a bunch of their friends and offer no explanation for their question. As people slowly responded, they crossed names off the list. Ten minutes later, Race emerged from the bathroom, just as they had got it down to the twins and Spot.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked quietly, a massive difference from Race’s normal demeanour.

“Trying to work out who you were with.” Davey told him, oblivious to Jack wincing at his honesty, thinking that Race wasn’t going to be happy about that, “Because it might help us work out how to help you.”

“Oh.” Race responded, listless and emotionless, “Who do you have?”

“The twins, Mike and Ike.” Davey watched Race for a reaction, “And Spot.” The reaction to that was immediate, Race’s face crumpled, and he curled his knees up to his chest.

“Spot, then.” Jack muttered, and then louder, “Ok, what did he do and how much should I hurt him?”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Race whispered, barely audible through where his face was buried into his knees, “I think I love him.”

There was a long pause and Davey and Jack exchanged a bemused glance, “Ok,” Jack finally said, “I’m gonna need an explanation on that one.”

Race sat up again and rubbed his sleeves over his eyes, “I thought we were dating, we go out every week and we hooked up at Jack’s last party, so I thought we were dating, but apparently not because he asked me who I was dating, which must have been his way of trying to let me down gently, but I thought we had something and-“ he broke off with another sob.

Jack was choking slightly, “You had sex?” he demanded, “With Spot Conlon?”

“Yeah, and we kept dating after that, but apparently we weren’t.” Race managed to get out between sobs. Davey stood up and went to get a glass of water,

“Calm down, drink this and calm down, we can’t do anything while you’re like this.”

Race nodded, accepting the water, and breathing deeply after ever sip, the other two watched him until he had finished the glass and seemed a lot calmer.

“Ok,” Davey sighed, “I think I know what happened.”

The other two looked at him, Race with raised eyebrows that quite obviously asked him to go on.

“Ok,” Davey started, “so, before you had sex- “

“Please just say hooked up,” Jack interrupted.

“Before that happened,” he continued, shooting an irritated glance in Jack’s direction, “the two of you were already going out for meals together, spending time together- doing what you classed as going on dates?”

Race hesitated, obviously unsure of where Davey was going, “Yes?”

“Alright,” he nodded like this made sense, “and then you… ‘hooked up’ and neither of you spoke about it, you didn’t acknowledge it at all.”

“Well, you know Spot, he doesn’t like to talk about things.”

“And then you continued to go on what you classed as dates?”

Davey could see some of the clarity he had dawning in Jack’s eyes, unfortunately Race still looked confused, and it was Race he was trying to explain the situation to.

“Yeah, Mouth I don’t get where you’re going with this.”

“Did Spot know they were dates?”

“Uh…” the horrified realisation was finally rising across Race’s face like the sun across the ocean, “I mean, he must have, right?” He looked at both them desperately, “Right?!”

“He is a little dense.” Jack offered, almost immediately wincing from the sharp kick Davey delivered to his ankle- apparently growing up with a twin taught you to do an insane amount of things unnoticed.

“This cannot be happening.” Race whispered, “Oh God.”

“You could talk to him.” Davey pointed out, “Tell him what you meant, apologise for not talking to him clearly, et cetera.”

“I’ve never heard someone say that out loud.” Race informed him, still in the same distant, horrified tone as before, “Et cetera. Who says that?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I know.”

*

Hotshot was in an incredibly similar position to the one Jack had been around 20 minutes previous; the only difference was that Spot, rather than locking himself in the bathroom, had chosen to pace the length of their apartment, muttering under his breathe and waving his hands angrily. He had been doing that for about 15 minutes and she was starting to get sick of it.

“Are you gonna snap out of it, or what?”

He paused, blinking at her as if he hadn’t noticed she was there, “What?”

“Snap out of it, Spot!”

“Yeah, sorry.”

He immediately resumed his pacing, and she resisted the urge to bang her head against a hard surface,

“Spot,” she groaned, “why are you doing this?”

“Me and Racer went to Jacobi’s for lunch.”

The urge to bang her head against a hard surface and not stop until everything stopped, “You do that every week.”

“Yeah, yeah I know that.”

Hotshot gritted her teeth- this was her best friend, and he was obviously struggling with something, so she was going to help him through this and not yell at him. She let out a calming breathe. “Then what’s the fucking problem?”

“He told me he had a boyfriend.”

“If you keep only telling me half pieces of information, I’m gonna hurt you.”

“Alright, alright! He told me he liked having a boyfriend, and I was upset because I’m a little bit in love with him and we hooked up at Jack’s last party and I thought that might mean something, but I’m a good friend and I wanted to be supportive, so I asked him who he was seeing and he just left and I couldn’t go after him because neither of us had paid, so I paid and then I was gonna go after him, but he and Jack moved in together and I don’t have his new address yet so I can’t and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Jesus Christ.” She muttered, slightly overwhelmed with information. “When I said stop giving me half bits, I didn’t mean dump all of it out.”

“I don’t know what to do, Niamh.”

“Alright, ok, we, uh, we should probably deal with that slowly.”

He was looking at her the way he had used to when they were still two kids in an abusive foster home, and she had taken on the role of his older sister. “Ok.”

“What do you mean you hooked up at Jack’s last party.”

His face went red, “I didn’t mean to say that bit.”

“Yeah, I guessed. Explain.”

“Explain what, Niamh? You know how it works.”

“Don’t get snappy with me, Sean.”

He leaned back into the couch, “Sorry.”

She ran a hand over her face, running back over his little info-dump in her head, “You’re in love with him?”

“Yeah…”

“Why?”

“Why?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that; she had just never even understood how the two of them had become friends- they had almost nothing in common from what she had seen- and was therefore utterly thrown by his deceleration of love. “I don’t know, Sean.”

“He’s so kind.” Spot whispered, “he’s so nice to everyone, and he smiles at people on the streets, and the kids at his dance studio all adore him, and he always makes time to talk to them if we see them in public. He always makes sure that Davey has time to chill at Jack’s parties ‘cos otherwise he would spend the whole time worrying, and he dances so prettily.”

“Huh.”

He sunk further into the couch- anyone else would think he was ashamed of his deceleration, of the fact that he liked another boy, but Niamh had known him long enough to know he was waiting for her validation, he wanted to know that she thought it was ok. Often, she had cursed the people who had made him crave validation for every response, but it was more important in that moment to give him the validation than to tell him he didn’t need it.

“I’m glad you found someone.”

Spot smiled up at her, just a small thing, but it was there, and then it was gone, “It doesn’t matter, though, he’s got a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…”

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, which was Spot’s general attention span in the quiet, “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me who it was.”

“What do you mean?” Niamh asked, running back over that part of his monologue in her head- so I asked him who he was seeing and he just left and I couldn’t go after him because neither of us had paid, so I paid and then I was gonna go after him, but he and Jack moved in together and I don’t have his new address yet so I can’t and I don’t know what to do about it.

“I mean he just left!”

“And how did he seem?” She asked slowly, carefully making her way towards the same conclusion Davey had reached with Race.

“Uh, upset, I guess? But I don’t know what he was upset about because I would never abandon him or be mad about who he’s dating so…” Spot trailed off and looked up at her again, and the expression was back.

“You asked who he was dating, and he seemed upset?”

“Yes. Are you listening?”

“And you hooked up at a party?”

“Yes.”

“And you go out to eat with Race, and just Race, every week, no matter what?”

“Yes, Niamh, what’s your point?”

“I think it’s you.”

“You think what’s me?” Spot demanded, and his ‘King of Brooklyn’ façade was up, concerningly since he had never felt the need to be emotionless around her.

“I think…” Hotshot explained carefully, “that Race thinks the two of you are dating.”

“What?”

“Yeah…”

“But he told me he had a boyfriend.”

“No…” Niamh corrected, “he told you he liked having a boyfriend. He said that. To you.”

Spot’s eyes had gone wide, “Oh no.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s so bad, Niamh! He probably thinks I was rejecting him or something!”

Niamh didn’t know Race that well, but if he was a true match for Spot, he probably did jump to a conclusion that stupid. She neglected to point that out, instead grimacing sympathetically, and watching him as he jumped back up and resumed the pacing he had been doing previously- she couldn’t even bring herself to criticise him this time. “You could talk to him?”

“I don’t know where he lives, Niamh! How am I supposed to do that?” Spot was waving his hands frantically, “He probably hates me!”

“Spot! You have a phone!”

He froze, halfway through another step, hands up in the air where they had been when he suddenly stopped. She was half tempted to pretend to reset him, but that would probably be insensitive considering his panic.

“My phone.” He finally whispered and dove across the room to grab it. “What do I sa- hey!”

Niamh snatched the phone out of his hands, helpfully already unlocked and pulled up Race’s contact- the only contact in his phone with an emoji after it.

“What are you gonna say?”

“Hey, I think I might have misunderstood you earlier, can we talk please?” she spoke as she typed it out, “That ok?”

“I-uh yeah.”

“Good.” She hit send and they both stared at the screen. “Maybe we should do something else for a while?”

“Yeah…”

*

Back at Jack and Race’s, the three of them were trying to come up with some sort of plan. Davey kept shooting down most of what they came up with- most notably ‘kill him.’ ‘avoid him.’ ‘seduce him.’- and was starting to look slightly done.

“Oh my God!” Race suddenly shouted, holding his phone out at arm’s length, “He texted me!”

Jack and Race politely ignored Davey’s “Thank God,” instead choosing to read the text several times,

“Huh,” Jack said, “I think Davey was right.”

The boy in question leaned over the shoulder that Jack was not reading over and glanced over the message. “Yeah. I think Spot might be on the same page as us now.”

“So, what do I do?” Race asked, looking up at him hopefully.

“…Text him back?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh I’ll ask him to come here? Or should we go somewhere else?”

“The park.” Davey suggested, “It’s kind of neutral ground.”

“You’re a genius!” Race informed him, typing fast enough that his fingers were almost a blur, “If you didn’t like Jack and I didn’t like Spot I would absolutely date you!”

“Thanks…”

“He responded! He said yes! I’m leaving!”

“Please put on shoes and a coat!” Davey cried as he made a break for the door with neither of those things.

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” Shoes and coat in place, Race gave them a cursory wave and sprinted out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“I am so glad that crisis is over.” Davey sighed, sinking back down on the couch, “And I am now going to sleep for three years.”

Jack laughed and ran a gentle hand through his boyfriend’s hair, “You do that.”

*

Nobody ever actually found out how the conversation between Race and Spot in the park went, but they did announce that they were officially dating- and kinda had been for three months- in the groupchat later that day. Hotshot and Davey also received some nice socks a few days later, supposedly from an anonymous donator, but the ‘thanks for your help with Race/Spot’ respectively did kind of make the lack of signature pointless.

[erin-bo-berin]

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 1)

MASTERLIST

Part 2

Part 3

Hard Love (unoffical part 4)

Finally, the first part of my “Cat fic” is here! I kept some lines and plot lines from the show, but I also added some different elements. For example, there’s a lot of scenes/references from Entropy and Date Night later on, but I didn’t include much from Red Light. You’ll soon see why.

I began this at the end of last year and didn’t think it would see the light of day as it wasn’t going anywhere. But after some inspiration, I finally finished it. I decided to break it into three parts in honor of the three Cat episodes. Besides, if I had wrote one long fic it would’ve probably been around 15k words. Anyway, this way I can leave you guys hanging in suspense for a little bit (mwhaha 😏). Lastly, I just wanted to say I chose this title for this 3-parter because the characters go through some dark storms but also experience some bright rainbows along the way throughout this story. Enough of my rambling, I hope you all enjoy. 🥰

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (part 1 only has some angst)

Word Count: 4,143

It’s truly fascinating how one small drop can create a ripple in the water.

That was what meeting Spencer Reid was like.

It was a typical day at work at the coffee shop you’d been employed at for almost a year. Life had slowly been getting somewhat back to normal for you. It had been a hard previous year when you lost both parents to a car crash. Living alone was difficult, but you were making it work.

It was like a breath of fresh air to find work in a DC neighborhood cafe. You loved being able to form relationships with some frequent customers and hear about their days; it was surprisingly very cathartic to connect with so many people after feeling so much loss. 

There had been a small breather between waves of numerous customers when he had first appeared at your counter for a coffee.

His order was just as unique as he was; coffee with whole milk and a little bit of honey. 

He was cute. He was really cute. 

His shaggy brown hair was probably just a touch too long and in need of a cut, but his loose curls made it work and it looked good on him. He had light eyes that would shift from green to brown, depending on how the sun shone through the window next to the counter and a smile so bright it rivaled the sun’s rays.

Something else you’d noticed, he was tall. Possibly 6 feet, if you were to guess. With a lean frame and a slight shyness about him, you were instantly intrigued. 

You saw him more often, never managing to get his name, but managing to pick up the tiniest details about him.

There was a slight cleft to his chin, a shadow of a feature that was dominant in some others, but only was fully shown on him at certain angles.

The same went for the chameleon like dimples he sported, only showing up now and then. Every time, they made your stomach flutter, just about as much as he did.

He had a smattering of freckles that you could mainly see only up close. Not the usual freckles that would be across the bridge of the nose and cheeks on an average person, but random ones. A few under the outer corner of one eye, a lone one on the far side of his forehead, one on the side of his cheek, just along his cheekbone, another larger one on the opposite side just underneath his earlobe, plus many more tiny ones scattered everywhere.

Everything about him was unique.

His hands were large and gentle, always carefully handing you money for his drink and taking his order from you.

He was sweet and always polite, asking you how your day was going, wishing you a good day when he left. 

He also had these small habits of licking his lips or squinting his eyes just the tiniest bit, without even being aware of the actions.

It was actually a bit pathetic how much you’d learned about this stranger yet couldn’t even muster up the courage to ask for his name.

It was one day, maybe six months after you’d first met the handsome stranger when you decided to take a chance.

He’d come in bright and early before 8 am dressed in gray dress pants, a purple dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a two toned purple tie. Slung across his body and resting on his hip was his usual tan satchel that you’d seen him with every day. You didn’t even have a clue what his job was.

“Morning,” he greeted with a bright smile.

You greeted him back, automatically reaching for his coffee that’d you’d been in the midst of preparing. 

“Large coffee, whole milk and honey?”

“As always,” he chuckled.

Unlike other larger chains, it wasn’t a normal thing to label a person’s drink with their name, so it wasn’t easy to find out his name; hence why you still hadn’t learned it.

You were fastening the lid, about to hand it to him when you asked.

“Um, just out of curiosity, who would this coffee be labeled for?”

The minute the words were out of your mouth you wanted to take them back. It sounded so awkward and weird. Labeled for? You wanted to hit yourself.

A small smile tugged on his lips.

“Spencer. Nice to meet you—” he paused, waiting for you to fill in with your name.

“Y/N.”

He took his drink, turning to leave before pausing.

“Have a great day, Y/N.”

Less than a month later, you’d gone on your first date with Spencer.

•

Three years later, life looked a lot different. 

You no longer worked at the coffee shop, but now worked from home. It took a little time, but you eventually found out you had a passion for being a social media manager for different brands. You loved social media and posting content for brands was rather fun.

You and Spencer had hit it off during that first date, considering you’d been dating for almost three years now.

As much as you missed your previous work family, you had a big new family that you’d come to be an (unofficial) part of, within these last few years.

You had finally found out after a few dates that Spencer worked for the FBI in a unit called the Behavioral Analysis Unit as a profiler; a position that uses an art of studying behavior and a lot of psychology to catch killers. It was interesting, but dangerous work. It did come with some good things though, like a work family that was like a real family. You, too, had grown close to his team members through the last few years. They were like the family you had desperately needed since your parents’ passing.

It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows in the BAU between the long hours and dangerous cases, but you were always there for Spencer. You were so proud of him and impressed by how good he was at his job; you were also proud to call him your boyfriend.

Recently, the BAU was dealing with a group of assassins, some that were hired through the deepest parts of the dark web. It had begun with one hit man that specialized in making his hits look like accidents. He had been seeking revenge on his customers and that led to the BAU discovering that there were a whole network of hitmen, each known for their own method of killing.

There was a chemist.

A sniper.

A bomber.

And the deadliest of them all, Ms. .45.

A black widow, Spencer called her.

She’d been the only one to evade capture and Spencer was going to be the one to lure her out. 

You were freaked, to put it mildly. Just from what Spencer had told you about this woman, you knew dangerous didn’t even begin to describe her. 

Unlike her former “co-workers”, she liked to be up close and personal with her targets. She played her games and when she was done, she’d shoot them without a morsel of guilt to drag her conscious down.

“Spencer, I really don’t think you should do this.”

You were sitting on the bed, watching him loosen his tie as he simultaneously told you about this case and changed out of his work clothes.

“Y/N, it’s better if I do it,” he said, turning to face you, his tie now hanging undone around his neck.

“Why you though?”

It wasn’t often that you argued and you couldn’t exactly count this as a fight, but you both definitely stood on opposite sides of this matter.

“I’m the closest to her age on the team. If anything goes wrong, she’ll be most likely to negotiate with a peer.”

“But Spencer,” you frowned, “I don’t like the sound of how dangerous she is. If she believes that you’re a client, she could kill you.”

“We aren’t going to let it get that far,” he assured, sitting down on the side of the bed, next to you.

“I just worry about you, always being in dangerous situations. I know it’s just a part of dating someone who works in your profession, but what if something happens to you?”

You can’t help the tiny crack of emotion in your voice and he pulls you into his arms.

“Nothing will happen to me, okay?” 

You nodded into his chest and he pulled back, frowning at you.

“I don’t like to see you sad. I want to see that pretty smile of yours.”

His fingers tickled your side and you tried to hold back the laugh bubbling in your throat. You were extremely ticklish and he only ever used that against you at a time like this.

“Stop,” you squealed, trying to wriggle away from his touch, but he kept tickling you.

“Nope, not a chance,” he grinned.

You fell back on the bed, laughing and squirming as he continued his tickle torture.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfied, “There’s that smile.”

You grinned more shyly as he cupped your face with his hand and kissed you gently.

“Just be safe, okay?”

“Always.”

He kissed you again, his lips parting from yours to trail down your jaw to your neck.

“Is this your way of distracting me?” you chuckled.

“Hmm, maybe,” he smirked.

“No complaints from this corner.”

His lips returned to yours, kissing you with such intensity, it left you breathless for a moment. Your lips moved with his, your hands tangled in his hair.

The rest of the evening was spent doing nothing other than a little fooling around.

•

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Garcia asked.

On the screen of her computer you saw Spencer entering the restaurant and speaking to the hostess before being seated.

“I’m sure,” came a moment later.

“We’ll protect him Y/N.”

This statement came from Aaron Hotchner—Hotch for short—, Spencer’s boss. You were grateful that Hotch had even let you be here, yet still the dread twisted in your stomach.

Garcia had hacked into the cameras to allow you three to see what was going on during this take down. Spencer sat facing the camera.

Only moments after he’d been seated at the table did a petite woman walk up.

She was slim with a short, angled cut. Her dark hair seemed to be in perfect place, just like the fake smile she was showing. She was dressed in a form fitting teal, sleeveless dress. The bottom was embellished in some sort of sparkling beads or perhaps rhinestones. She looked harmless enough, but you knew better. Looks could be very deceiving.

“Reid, we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?”

You watch as your boyfriend briefly glances straight towards the camera and taps a quick, stealthy answer on the table, with two fingers.

“I already hate her,” you glowered at the screen, watching as her hand lingered on his arm, seduction written all over her face.

“Put the claws away tiger,” Penelope muttered.

“So, how far along is your wife?” the hit woman you now know was named Cat, asked.

You watch Spencer swallow nervously, playing the part of an apprehensive first time customer.

“A few months. Do you, uh mind if we don’t talk about her?”

Cat was quiet for a moment. You can’t see her face, but somehow you just know she’s studying him.

“Let me see your ring.”

He furrowed his brows, but took it off handing it to her.

“You say you’ve been married for four years, right Spencer?” She studies the band, turning it over in her hand.

“Yeah.”

“For a 24 karat ring, it sure looks rather cheap. Apparently she loves you as much as you love her,” she tossed the ring on the table with a clank.

“Also, if it were four years old, it’d look more worn, don’t you think?”

You hear a click over the audio. It sounded suspiciously like a gun cocking and your eyes widened in horror.

Penelope gasped.

“Is that what I think it was?” 

“Yes,” Hotch answered her, “She knows.”

“You’re not married Spencer.” Her gun was pointing at him under the table, unbeknownst to the other diners in the restaurant.

“And guess what? I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine.”

“Oh no,” Penelope breathed.

“I’ve got a gun pointed at your crotch right now, Spencer. What’s to stop me from taking you and the little ones out right now? It’d be such a shame; doesn’t Y/N want kids?”

“Hotch,” you growled, “He didn’t sign up for this.”

“He knows what he’s doing. Let him handle this. If it truly becomes a dire situation, we have backup in there with him.”

You pick at your nails, tuning back into Spencer and Cat’s conversation.

He ignored her remark, continuing to stare her down.

“You honestly think I’m dumb enough to waltz in here thinking you’re just another deadbeat asshole that’s tired of his wife? I know way more than you think I do. The BAU is the only one that got this close to us. But I’m still the only one left,” she smirked.

“Doesn’t mean anything. I’m good at what I do,” Spencer retorted.

“Tell me. Are you this cocky with Y/N?”

Your eyes narrowed, glaring at the screen.

“I’d love to shove my foot right up her-”

“Y/N,” Hotch chided.

“Sorry.”

She’d scooted around the booth closer to him, her hand sliding into his suit jacket and down his button down shirt. You couldn’t clearly see what she was doing, but you got the general idea. He jumped when her hand brushed his crotch before reaching into the waist of his pants, pulling out his gun with a smirk.

“So tell me, did you actually knock her up or was that just part of your cover? I mean unless you’re here to put a hit on her which is totally fine by me. I’m not one for commitment either.”

“You leave her out of this,” he growled, glaring at her.

“I bet you’re wondering how I know about her, right? Probably the same way I know that Blondie over there is part of your team, just waiting to take me down. Am I right?”

Spencer stayed quiet, his gaze hard on her.

“Do me a favor and tell her to take a hike will you?”

“Stand down,” Hotch says from next to you. You know enough about the plan to know that the entire team can hear messages from him here at the BAU.

You watched as JJ set the drink she’d been sipping on, down on the bar. She’d dressed in leather pants, a low cut black top with a quarter length sleeved, maroon fur jacket over it to appear as just another fancy dinner guest. She passed their table before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat smiled at her disappearing form.

“Now, tell me more about yourself Spencer. Why don’t you?” 

Cat rested her chin in her hand and watched him, her gun laying by her side where she could have easy access to it.

“Don’t you already know all about me?”

“True,” she made a face, “Then tell me all about me.”

“Well, for one, you’re quite loquacious.” 

“I’m gonna pretend that means sexy,” she grinned flirtatiously.

“Gag me with a spoon,” you mumbled.

“Now, like I said,” Cat continued, “Tell me about me.”

“You’re a psychopath that runs a different course than the rest of your fellow hit men. You like to be up close and personal, watch men lie and try to seduce them all before turning on them and killing them. Which in itself speaks to many deep rooted issues.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m just another woman with daddy issues?”

“You said it, not me.”

“So, how exactly did you find me?” She rested her chin on her laced fingers and cocked her head at him.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. It all started unraveling when we first took down what we thought was a lone hit man. One who specified in making hits look like accidents.”

You can hear Spencer still talking through the monitor as you paced back and forth behind Hotch and Garcia, your nerves getting the best of you.

You jump when you hear loud feedback from the mic.

“What was that?”

“She muffled the mic. We lost audio,” Penelope grimaced.

On the screen, you can see Cat’s hand on his tie, thumb over the microphone, her mouth moving as she says something to Spencer. He turns in the direction where Rossi was slyly approaching their table. 

With a few words that were unheard to the three of you, Rossi backed off, heading towards the kitchen.

“She caught on to Dave being there too,” Hotch mumbled.

“Hotch, this is not going as you planned, is it?”

Your question remained unanswered and by the way his posture remained rigid you knew you were right. That did little to reassure you.

“Entropy reigns supreme in this whole situation,” you grumbled.

You looked over and saw Hotch and Garcia staring at you quizzically.

“What? Isn’t another definition for that, lack of order or predictability or gradual decline into disorder?”

Hotch arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I used it wrong. I’ve heard Spencer use it before. This is why he’s the genius and not me.”

Nothing else was said on the matter as you three’s attention was turned back to the screen where Cat was talking to Spencer again.

“I’ll let that slide considering I learned something important about you.”

“What’s that?” Spencer questioned.

“Your backup. I’ve flushed them out. It’s just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” you mumbled.

You knew, as well as the rest of the team, that Tara and Morgan were still in there.

“I know you’re stalling, but why?”

“Cause I know there has to be a pretty impressive crowd of agents out front, just waiting to take me down.”

“You’d be correct,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Which is why you’re going to walk me out of here. I get away with no issues and no one gets hurt. If not,” she paused.

She ran her fingertips over the gun that she’d moved to the table, just in his line of sight.

“I have a fully loaded gun that can do quite some damage.”

“You won’t do it though,” he challenged.

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“No because shooting up a restaurant isn’t your style. You’re more calculated than that. You like less mess, more mind games.” 

“So you do understand me, Spencer,” she smirked, “Then you’d understand that I need you to call off all the FBI agents so I can leave quietly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Spencer shrugged, not breaking his eye contact from her, “I’m not letting you walk out of here if I have to hold you down myself.”

“Would you hold me down and leave bruises that wouldn’t go away?” she purred.

“Is that what you want?”

“I bet that’s what Y/N wants,” Garcia mumbled.

You opened your mouth to respond, not sure if she meant you doing bodily harm to Cat or your wanting Spencer to do that to you.

“Focus,” Hotch reprimanded.

“No, I want the agents cleared.” Her hand tightened on her piece.

“Everyone stand down,” Hotch ordered, “We let her walk. Reid let her go.”

“Well?” Cat pressed.

You saw him bite his lip, clearly trying to make up his mind what to do.

“Reid. Let her go.”

“Spencer?” 

Cat was getting annoyed, that much you could tell and you knew she was definitely a person you didn’t piss off.

“Fine, you can go.”

She gathered her things, standing up to leave.

“But you won’t,” Spencer said.

She turned, gazing at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I found your father,” Spencer challenged.

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch asked, glancing at Garcia who just shrugged in response.

“Spencer, no,” you whispered, anxiety flooding your senses.

He was playing with fire and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get burned.

“Tell me where he is,” Cat demanded.

“Sit down and I will.”

You glance at the two next to you.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“No,” came the terse answer from Hotch.

You see her sit once again across from Spencer.

“To prepare for tonight, I had to do my research on you,” he started.

“Is that so?”

“Lewis, Morgan, try to clear out the restaurant as subtly as possible. If this goes wrong, she could start shooting. I don’t want any injuries on my conscience tonight,” Hotch commanded. 

You didn’t see their movement on the screen, but within a few minutes there were more than the normal amount of waiters moving along the tables.

“I found your father Cat,” Spencer continued, in effort to distract her.

“You’re lying.”

“Does it look like I’m lying?”

“No, but I know you are because I never mentioned that I found him myself. He’s been dead for years, Spencer.”

You saw her reach for her gun at the exact moment a commotion towards the front of the restaurant broke out. You couldn’t see on screen what was happening, but it was all the distraction she needed.

Hotch was barking orders and you heard Spencer shouting something to Morgan.

It was later you found out that against Lewis and Morgan’s wishes, someone—most likely a waiter—had started freaking out. Whether that caused the following events to happen or not you would never know, but it sure didn’t help them either.

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped.

Your eyes were glued to the screen and the horrible events that were beginning to unfold.

Cat had Spencer by the arm and her gun was pointed directly at him. She had him in her claws and she wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

“Get everyone out of here!” Spencer hollered.

You heard the rest of the people fleeing the dining room, Tara aiding them, but you didn’t take your eyes off of Cat and Spencer.

“Well lookie here,” she grinned up at Spencer, “Back where we started. You and me and a gun.”

“We can talk this out,” Morgan said, slowly approaching, his gun still aimed Cat's way.

“I don’t know Agent Morgan,” she smirked, “I don’t like liars. How do I know that Spencer is true to his word? He’s already lied once.”

“Let him go and we’ll talk,” Morgan said.

“It’s too late for that.”

A loud crash came from the front of the restaurant. Distraction number two. You couldn’t tell if it had been planned by Cat or not, either way, it was her perfect moment to strike.

Multiple gunshots sounded. 

Time slowed down.

Penelope cried out.

Hotch cursed.

You fell to your knees.

In a split second Cat had shot Spencer and he went down, bright red blood beginning to stain his dress shirt. 

Shots were fired from Morgan’s gun. Tara went running after Cat, Morgan went running to Spencer’s side.

There was commotion on the screen. Tara came back in from the direction of the kitchen where Cat had run. Luck must have been on her side because she had disappeared into the night.

Everything changed in one quick moment.

Spencer had been shot and Cat had gotten away.

•

You had no memory of how you’d managed to get from the BAU to the hospital, but here you were, fidgeting in a chair, tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even had a chance to see him before you got to the hospital and you were wracked with worry with how he was.

The last thing you remembered was falling to the floor, your head feeling woozy as you tried to process what was unfolding before your eyes. 

Spencer had been rushed into emergency surgery and you waited anxiously with the rest of the team in the waiting room. You were positive you hadn’t stopped shaking since you heard the gun go off.

The awful sound rang in your ears and every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer falling to the ground, blood soaking his shirt.

You looked up when you heard the click of heels and saw JJ coming back with an update on Spencer. The look on her face sent a feeling of cold, icy, fear through your body.

“He didn’t make it,” she whispered.

A buzzing sound rang in your ears and you were sure you’d heard wrong. 

“What?” you croaked.

“Spencer’s gone,” she choked out.

The guttural sobs that came from deep within you didn’t even sound human. Your anger and your pain melted into one.

Cat Adams would pay for this.

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