#so he didn’t! beard had never been the son his dad wanted and he knew it. it was obvious.

[becoach-a]

beard’s dad kicked him out as he was leaving for college, telling him to not bother to come home <333

[wonderjanga]

So there is that headcanon where Captian Marvel looks a lot like teth Aman (Black Adams kid) and him mistaking cap as his kid and trying to reconnect in a way making people think that Black Adam is Captain Marvels dad

*throws this idea at you and runs away*

*idea smacks me in the head*

Teth was furious. For good reason too. The Wizard literally sealed him away for nearly five thousand years. Then, the old man replaced him with some, from what he’d heard, bumbling idiot. So yes, he was furious, and he also wanted his job back. Something he could only get if the current champion was put down. Which he was on his way to this place called Fawcett to do.

When he got there, he could practically feel the magic emanating from the city. Were there magic ley lines here? Then it’s a no wonder the Champion chose to set up base here rather than one of the major cities. As of now, Adam was above the city surveying the terrain. Meanwhile, Billy in Marvel form is sitting on a roof, wondering who that weirdo hovering above the city.

Solomon: “Oh… Billy you have to kill that man.”

Marvel: “WHAT?” *gobsmacked and concerned because other than a couple times, Solomon has never been one to hop on the ‘kill that villain’ train*

Achilles: “Yeah, we’re sorry, but like, no joke, you actually gotta kill him.”

Marvel: “The other times were jokes?”

Mercury: “Kinda, but you absolutely have to kill this guy or he will kill you.”

Marvel: “Oh. Uhm… okay?” *sounds extremely nervous as he stands up* “So what do? Do I just…?”

Hercules: “Yeah, just like charge him, and beat him. To death.”

And that’s how Adam literally blinked and the next thing he knew, he was hurtling through the air and to the ground, far from the so called Fawcett. Damn it. The current Champion had found him first. When Adam crawled out of his crater, he was met with a face he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Aman.

Had that blasted Wizard brought his son back from the grave? Adam didn’t know whether he should be grateful, or enraged. On one hand, the Wizard brought his boy back. His boy whose life had ended too early. On the other hand, his boy had been thrust back into a life of danger as the Champion. Gods, how long had Aman been the current Champion? How long had the Wizard waited until he decided that doing this was acceptable?

As for Billy, he just stared down at the guy wearing black in confusion. Why did the Gods want him to kill this guy so bad? He isn’t attacking anyone. He’s kinda just there, staring up at up at Billy with the same confused expression Billy has. He also has the same lightning bolt? Billy had thought that was only reserved for people connected to the rock. The Wizard had never mentioned this guy before if that’s the case.

Black Adam: *mistakes Billy’s confusion as recognized* “…Aman?”

Marvel: *heard “a man” and just thought Adam just had some type of accent* “Yes…?” *now extremely confused*

Black Adam: “I can’t believe it.” *flies over to him and tries to reach out to him*

Marvel: *moves out of his reach because he does not know this rando*

Black Adam: *sounds slightly annoyed* “What did the Wizard tell you?”

Marvel: “Nothing? I just don’t know you.”

Black Adam: *looks absolutely disturbed* “He erased your memory?”

Marvel: *just about to answer when some monster starts attacking Fawcett* “Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk later.” *flies off to the monster*

Zeus: “How interesting.” *probably stroking his beard* “He didn’t immediately kill you.”

Solomon: “Be on watch Billy. He could still attack.”

Now, Adam obviously didn’t do that. He immediately went to Kahndaq, made himself pharaoh again and remodeled the palace as best as he could in such a short time. It wasn’t until about a week later that Adam came back to see his boy again.

Marvel: *finishes helping an old lady cross the road*

Black Adam: *lands beside him and clears his throat*

Marvel: “Oh, it’s you again!” *smiles*

Black Adam: “Yes. It is I.”

*silence*

Marvel: *desperate to fill the awkward silence* “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name the last time we met.”

Black Adam: “I am Teth Adam.” *is super hurt that his boy doesn’t remember him and is plotting on the Wizard*

Marvel: “Cool. I’m Captain Marvel. I’m fine with Cap, or Marvel, or whatever you can come up with.”

Black Adam: “So that’s what he has you going by…”

Marvel: “What?”

*another silence*

Black Adam: *clear throat again* “When… are you coming home?””

Marvel: “Home?”

Black Adam: “Home. Kahndaq. If you’re worried about becoming a slave again, after your…” *clears throat* “The point is, I worked to get rid of it.”

Billy honest to the Gods just assumed this guy was both lonely and another Champion.

Marvel: *confused at the mention of slavery* “Sure, I’ll come by. That’s in like Africa, right?”

Black Adam: *a little relieved that he’d visit, but also filled with a little dread because Marvel not knowing where Kahndaq is kind of supports the memory wipe theory* “I believe so.”

Marvel did visit. And sure, he might’ve had to work himself up for the awkward afternoon, but it wasn’t that bad. Teth seemed a little happier after the whole thing. Billy’s pretty sure at least. It’s a little hard to get a read the guy’s emotions.

Also, someone caught the end of their conversation, more specifically the coming home bit. Thus, the rumors of this new guy in black being Marvel’s father were born. These rumors were fueled by Adam trying to be fatherly, albeit awkwardly, and Billy just accepting it because he just thinks Adam is being nice.

Like the time Adam brought him a modernized version Aman’s favorite food because he thought he might still like it.

Achilles: “WAIT BILLY IT MIGHT BE POISONED-”

Marvel: *takes a big munch* “Wow, this is really good!”

Black Adam: *relieved* “It’s good you still like it.”

Yeah, Fawcitizens are like ninety percent sure Adam is their hero’s dad. And they’re here for it. They just want their big guy to be happy.

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[witchywithwhiskey]

andy barber + "you don't need anything, you want it"

optional scenario: assassin/mercenary

undone by a pretty spring sundress

pairing: dilf!andy barber x babysitter!female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, unspecified age gap (but reader is def out of college), thigh riding, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light bdsm, pet names (sweetheart, angel), some bratting, referenced spanking, fluffy ending

word count: 2,100ish

a/n: instead of assassin/mercenary Andy Barber, may i offer you dilf Andy Barber? 🫣 lol let's be honest, Andy is always a dilf 🤭 but i've already done ex's dad Andy and dbf August so i wanted to do a different trope and i've never done a babysitter fic so i gave it a shot!! hope you enjoy, Aspen!!

The sounds of shrieking laughter and childish games filtered into Andy Barber’s kitchen while you stood at the counter, putting together a bouquet of spring flowers that would sit nicely on his dining room table. You’d retreated into the house because you’d needed a break from the party Andy was hosting—the one he’d hired you for the afternoon to help him host.

It was a little outside your normal duties, since you typically worked as Andy’s babysitter, watching his young son on nights the single father had to work late at his law practice. You knew some of the parents in the neighborhood thought you were a little old to be babysitting, given you were old enough to be married and have a family of your own. 

But you ignored them because you enjoyed babysitting for Andy. It helped supplement the meager pay you received from your day job, and you liked spending time with Andy’s son Jacob, who was a sweet kid. More than that, though, you found yourself really enjoying spending time with Andy.

And if you weren’t mistaken, Andy liked having you around as well. 

In the months that you’d worked for Andy, you’d grown increasingly aware of the way he stared at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. 

His crystal blue eyes would drift down to your tits when you were looking something up on your phone. And more than once, you could’ve sworn you felt his gaze on your ass when you’d bent over to pick up some toys on the floor. But each time, when you turned to the older man, he was innocently looking elsewhere.

Altogether, you’d gotten the impression that Andy might want you to be more than his babysitter, but he hadn’t yet acted on the heated looks he gave you. So you may have taken matters into your own hands and worn a skimpy little sundress to the party he was hosting for the neighbors and all their kids. And you were delighted when it had the intended effect.

You hadn’t been in the kitchen for more than a few minutes when Andy cornered you, using the moment when everyone else was distracted by watching the children play a game they’d made up to approach you. His body crowded you into the counter, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him brushing against the swaths of bare skin not covered by your sundress.

“I need to speak to you upstairs,” Andy murmured in your ear. His warm breath ghosted over your cheek and bare shoulder, causing goosebumps to raise all along your arms.

But you stifled the shiver racing down your spine and continued fluffing the flowers in the vase in front of you, pretending you didn’t notice the demanding edge of Andy’s voice or the way he crowded into you. After all, he’d waited months to approach you, and you decided you wanted to have a little fun with him before you gave in to the tension crackling between the two of you.

“You don’t need anything, you want it,” you responded cheekily, your tone light and playful. “Isn’t that what you’re always telling Jacob, Mr. Barber?” You tossed your head to the side and gave the older man a sly smile over your shoulder.

Andy’s expression darkened, his soft mouth pulling down in a frown that was framed perfectly by his neatly trimmed beard. He looked particularly delicious in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans—though you also appreciated all the suits he wore for his job as a lawyer. You’d spent many a night imagining Andy undressing you entirely while he stayed all buttoned up in one of his suits, making you hump the bulge in his slacks…

Andy’s big hand wrapping around your upper arm brought you back from your distracted thoughts.

“I assure you, sweetheart, what I’m feeling is a need—not a want,” Andy growled, dragging you away from the counter and forcing you to abandon your bouquet. You didn’t protest, though, as he led you toward the stairs and up to the second floor of his suburban Massachusetts home. 

Andy had only just pulled you into his bedroom and closed the door when he spun you around and crowded into you until your back hit the door. Then, with a muttered curse, Andy ducked down and captured your lips with his own, kissing you so passionately, your head spun. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him back just as fervently, your mouth parting and allowing his tongue to twine with yours. He groaned into your lips as he tasted you, the deep sound of his pleasure making you hot all over, wetness gathering between your thighs while your mouths slid together. You squirmed against Andy’s hard body, pressing your softness against him as your body yearned for friction.

Andy shoved one of his legs between yours, his big hands gripping your hips tightly and shifting you so that your pussy rubbed against his thigh. You wrenched your mouth from his with a sharp gasp, your body rocking against his as pleasure shot through you from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your toes. Andy watched you with hooded eyes as you humped against him, hands sliding down your sides.

“Wish I could watch you ride my thigh all afternoon, angel, but I need to be inside you,” Andy groaned, reaching beneath your dress and hooking his fingers in your panties, moving you back to pull them down your trembling legs. You let out a little whine at the loss of friction against your pussy, but Andy only hushed you. “Shh, I know sweetheart, you’re needy too, aren’t ya? Need daddy to fuck you, huh?”

Your head fell back against the door with a thunk and you let out a breathy, surprised, “Daddy,” tasting the way the word sounded on your tongue and enjoying it far too much. 

“That’s it, angel, call me daddy,” Andy murmured fervently before capturing your lips in another kiss. You could feel his hands working his jeans open and pulling out his cock, but you couldn’t move your arms from around his shoulders; you were pretty sure if you did, you’d collapse to his feet. “Christ, I knew ya would be perfect—been wanting this for so long, but that pretty spring sundress of yours was my undoing.”

A pleased smirk curled the edges of your mouth at Andy’s confession, and you decided you’d tell him later that had been your intention with wearing it. For the moment, though, you simply leaned up to whisper some teasing words in Andy’s ear. “If you need me so bad, then take me, daddy.”

Andy hooked an arm around your waist and spun you again, walking you back to his bed and easing you down onto the plush softness of his blankets while his hips settled between your thighs. His cock rested against your bare pussy, making you moan with desire.

“Gonna have to make this quick, sweetheart,” Andy murmured as he brushed kisses to your jaw and cheeks, his hips grinding his length against your soaked folds, getting himself drenched in your arousal. “But next time I’ll fuck you soft and slow like you deserve, alright?”

“OK, daddy,” you said on a moan, tilting your hips to grind your bare pussy against his cock. Andy buried a grunt in your neck and reached between your bodies, adjusting his cock until the tip pressed against your entrance. 

Then, all at at once, Andy pushed inside you, both of you moaning at the feel of his thick, hard cock stretching out your tight, warm pussy. It was better than you ever imagined, having him inside you, your body taking his entire length and joining you to him in the most intimate way.

“Feel so good, daddy,” you murmured breathily, your mind spinning with pleasure. You cupped Andy’s face in your hands, your nails raking through his beard gently, as you stared up at him. You hoped every bit of the pleasure you felt was clear on your face, so he could see how good he made you feel.

Andy seemed to, his smile filled with affection and arousal of his own. He leaned down and brushed a kiss to your lips, teasing you with the flick of his tongue before pulling away and catching your eye. 

“Ready, angel?” 

“Yes, daddy,” you answered sweetly, more ready for him than he could even know.

Then Andy took what he needed, and gave you what you needed, too. He fucked you hard and fast, pumping his thick cock into your tight channel with a ruthlessness you’d only ever glimpsed when he’d take work calls at home. He was brutal, and you wanted to scream your pleasure, but Andy’s hand covered your mouth, keeping you from being overheard by all the neighbors crowded in the backyard.

When he seemed to be getting close, Andy reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight little circles until you shattered apart around him. You came so hard, you bit down on the flesh of his palm to keep yourself quiet.

Andy didn’t seem to mind, grunting through the sting of your teeth and the delicious clench of your pussy, fucking you harder until he pressed deep and came inside you. You shivered when you felt his load leak out around his cock, in awe when you realized just how much come he must’ve pumped you full of that it was overflowing. 

As you caught your breath, Andy peppered your face with light kisses, praising you. “Such a good girl, sweetheart, so fucking good for daddy.” He kissed the apple of your cheek, his beard tickling you and making you giggle softly. “Now, I need you to keep my come safe inside you for the rest of the afternoon, can you do that, angel?” Andy asked, catching your eye and giving you a serious look. His hand pressed against your lower belly, making your pussy flutter while butterflies took flight in your chest. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to simply say yes, but a delightful thought took hold of your mind and you found your lips forming the same words they had earlier in Andy’s kitchen. “You don’t need anything, daddy, you want it,” you said, giggling when Andy’s face turned stormy.

“You’re lucky we have to get back to our guests, angel,” Andy growled pressing his forehead to yours while he glared at you, though there wasn’t much anger to his gaze—only desperate arousal. “Otherwise I’d put you over my knee and show you what I do when you’re a bratty bad girl.”

You were helpless to your body’s reaction to his words, your cunt clenching hard around Andy’s cock and making him chuckle. “I need it, daddy,” you cried, hands fisting in his t-shirt and trying to hold him close.

But Andy was already moving away, pulling out and stuffing his cock back in his pants. You watched him with a pout while he grinned down at you. When his appearance was presentable enough, Andy hauled you up from the bed and smoothed your dress down over your curves, fixing it for you. 

“Be a good girl and help me get through the rest of this party and we can have some fun later,” Andy promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, like he couldn’t help himself, he caught your mouth in one last deliciously sinful kiss. 

You returned to the party with Andy, finishing your bouquet of spring flowers and putting it out on the table. Then, you helped him wrangle the kids and their parents for dessert, everyone enjoying the beautiful spring evening. 

If anyone from the neighborhood noticed that, after you returned, Andy treated you more like his partner than his babysitter, they didn’t say anything. (In fact, in the weeks and months that followed, when it became clear the two of you were together, each of your neighbors would try to take credit for setting the two of you up.) When everyone left, they thanked you just as much as Andy for hosting the wonderful party.

Once everyone was gone and you’d helped Andy put Jacob to bed, he delivered on his promise of rewarding you for your good behavior. Later that night when you told him you’d worn your skimpy little outfit just to see if he’d finally make a move on you, Andy chuckled and murmured that he’d forgive your naughty trick just that once. Then, he made sure to show you just how undone he was by your pretty spring sundress.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

Hi elle! I was wondering if you could do some angst in where reader is tony's daughter but shes the forgotten one and tony shows a lot of affection to peter and one day she just loses it. Its ok if you don't want to.

Stay safe and drink water!

i’ve never felt so motivated to write something–

content warnings (18+) — immense swearing, mentions of insecurity and negative outlook, yelling, author possibly projecting?, maybe too many italicized words/phrases.

✨masterlist✨.

3.5k.

You knew your dad loved you. He had to. He said it to you a million times before, and made it a point to remind you of it once a day. However, there were moments nowadays where you began to question it. You didn’t really question whether he loved you or not, but rather, whether he loved Peter Parker more than you.

Tony had referred to Peter as the son he’d never had. He’d taken Peter on retreats and to expos when he hadn’t taken you out on a trip since you were nine years old. He’d bought things for Peter, and fixed things for Peter, and every meme or video or cat picture you found on the internet to show to your father would automatically get the response: “send that to me, i want to show it to Peter.”

Peter this and Peter that. It sent you into a spiral of insecurity that you’d never known existed. You truly felt like Tony was trying to tell you something subliminally. You tried to drown yourself in coursework, go to engineering camps, and help out with the Avengers just to try and gain a better understanding of their bond. Of what you lacked. Nothing seemed to help. It jabbed at your feelings like a knife to the back, presumably left by Peter Parker himself.

And the worst part? You’d never even met the guy. You’d never been introduced to Peter Parker, despite how many times Tony mentioned the fact that he’d “love for you two to meet,” and “you two would get along great.” Yeah, sure. And he’s probably some gross ass dude with an untamed beard in his mid–twenties that your father took pity on. So much pity, in fact, that he’d invited Peter to stay over for the weekend in your penthouse apartment.

Fantastic.

It was such a sudden proposition, and a last second invite, but it happened. And Tony insisted, despite every protest you attempted to give, that you’d both greet him in the lobby.

So when you were face to face with a surprisingly attractive boy your age who had the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen and barely packed a duffel bag, you were thrown off your rocker. You hardly had the composure to speak. Thus, your father did for you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before.

He was barely showing teeth, but you hadn’t seen your father this excited about something in a while. “Kid, this is my daughter, Y/N.” He stated proudly, grasping Peter’s shoulder as he started introductions. “And sweetheart,” Tony addressed you, turning his full focus to you as he gave Peter’s introduction. “This is Peter Parker.”

There was something about him that caused for you to detest him. It wasn’t seen on his clothes, or in his eyes. It wasn’t dangling in the tension between you, or whispered through his silent stares, but it was there. Perhaps, it came from the depths of your subconscious, and the land of your imagination. You shoved that proposition deeper into your subconscious, too.

Because you were certain that you had a hatred for Peter Parker, and his little staycation with the Stark’s would prove it.

The first night was fine. Your dad didn’t make you do any activities together, thank God, but he did surprise you with the news that he had to leave the next morning for a last second Avengers emergency. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but Tony assigned you and Peter with the task of rewiring a circuit board in his lab before he returned.

Being the daughter of Tony Stark, you’d taken the initiative to finish the project yourself. It was your house, anyways. It was a request that your father had made to you, so you intended to do it. You just hated the fact that Peter persisted in being with you in the room while you finished it. You hated the silence he left in the room, and the way he kept checking over your shoulder. God, you just hated him. You were sure of it.

You could feel his presence watching over your hands as they worked. You could feel the weight of his judgment, his breath catching in hesitation. You could smell the fumes of his cologne, and the aroma of his hair products. It was infuriating. It was pressuring. It felt mocking, taunting.

He stepped closer, hands reaching over to where yours were tinkering, yet they didn’t dare to touch your project. “A–actually, you should move the circuit focus closer to the–”

The audacity he had to question you. The nerve he struck with his comment, it filled you with rage.

Wrench and wire were thrown to the table, clanking and clamoring as they caved to gravity’s pull. Their sound was the only thing keeping you and Peter from shared silence. The shared silence of your anger. You turned your head to look at him, hoping that you weren’t physically exhaling flames like you imagined you were.

“Can you just.. not?” The question almost came out as a laugh. You nearly laughed, in disbelief that Peter Parker thought he had any say in how you built a robotic contraption. “Can you just fucking not?”

Walls had been building up inside you, livid and rageful feelings clouding your judgment as you glared at him. You couldn’t see just how shocked he was, thrown off at your irritation. You couldn’t see how puzzled he was, or panicked that he’d done something to upset you so much. You just stared into the eyes of what felt like your replacement. You felt empty, worthless, as your figure reflected back at you through the glistening of his eyes.

“Can I not what? Did I– Did I upset you?” Just the sound of his voice crawled beneath your skin. It felt worse than the sleek of humidity, or nails on a chalkboard. It sounded teasing, coy.

It was the final straw.

Nails dug into your palm as your hands formed fists. One fist pressed to your forehead, almost speaking as a warning to tell you to keep composure, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. “Can you stop being so fucking perfect all the time?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

There were several things that you’d been wanting to say to Peter Parker. You’d wanted to tell him off for a long time, but you’d never gotten the chance. Now, you’d given yourself the opportunity to let the floodgates open and your tongue run wild.

“You’re always making shit competitive and iT’S NOT OKAY. It’s not my fault that my own father loves yOU MORE THAN ME! Doesn’t mean you have to fucking rub it in my face every gODDAMN FUCKING HOUR!!” God, this felt good. “You can just do my job for me!! Fucking move into my rOOM at this point, Tony won’t know the difference!!” You scoffed, “In fact, he’d probably be tHRILLED that you FINALLY REPLACED ME!!”

Peter Parker blinked a few times at you. His mouth hung agape, too scared to say anything and interrupt what looked like things you had been needing to say. The look infuriated you.

“Build the circuit board by your goddamn fucking self and leave me the fuck alone!!” And as you made the final statement, you turned to make your leave. The subtle breeze caught your face, and you felt the air hit your cheeks cold; you hadn’t noticed that you’d started crying.

You also hadn’t noticed the fact that your dad entered the room. You froze dead in your tracks at the sight of him, tears brimming your eyes again when you saw how upset he looked.

Shit.

It wasn’t your intention for him to hear all of that, but you couldn’t take back the truth once it’d gotten out. You took a staggered breath, choking back a sob as you rushed out. You didn’t know which hurt more: to hear your father’s footsteps tread further from you, or to hear him ask Peter about what was happening rather than you directly.

Either way, it was an added punch right to the gut.

It felt like ten minutes of sobbing in your room went by before a knock was placed on your door. You were about to answer, but you weren’t given the chance; your father opened the door as soon as he’d placed the knock, a solemn look coating his face as he looked at you from the doorframe. It was a solemn look that resembled disappointment.

He was disappointed in you.

Your dad was disappointed that you’d blown a fuse in front of your house guest. Disappointed that you’d ruined your chance at a good first impression. Disappointed that you’d shown such weakness. He was disappointed that you didn’t meet his expectations. He was disappointed in you for not making his honorary son feel more welcomed. Your father was disappointed in you for fucking it all up. You could tell.

Tony took careful steps towards your bed, sitting next to you as you stifled your sobs down a bit. “Do.. You want to talk about what happened back there?” His tone was softer than you’d anticipated for someone who was disappointed in you. It almost sounded apologetic, sympathetic; you were certain that your mind was reaching for a false reality.

A sniffle caught your breath as you looked at him, fresh tears framing your face. “How much of that did you hear?” You were almost too scared to ask, but you needed to know. You had to know which bit of air to clear first.

“All of it.” Tony started, “From the part where you asked Peter not to be so fucking perfect all the time..” His tone got a little sharper, almost witty. It sounded like he was trying to make humor of your meltdown. As though he were trying to find a way to cheer you up, or tell you to grow up and get over yourself. You couldn’t tell.

You averted eye contact for a moment, trying not to blow up again. Luckily, most of the anger in your system was boiling down to melancholia. Your tears ran rivers down your face as you tried to find the words to say. “I just don’t understand..” You started, keeping your voice from breaking.

Every speck of humor fled from his face at how upset you were getting. Tony’s brows pressed together, graveness and concern bleeding through his tone of voice. “Don’t understand what, honey?” The gentleness of his tone reminded you of when he’d comfort you in childhood. It took you back to when he’d snapped at you and wanted to apologize, or when you’d scraped your knee and he rushed to patch you up. It started to ease the narrative in your head that Tony was angry with you for your little tantrum.

“I, uh.. I don’t—” A shaky breath cut you off. You weren’t sure how to communicate this feeling lightly. It’d been bottled up and growing inside you for a couple months now. You knew you’d have to tell him at some point, you just despised how raw it was. It was pure vulnerability. “I don’t understand what I did to not be good enough–” You couldn’t even get through the sentence before your lip quivered.

That was when Tony looked at you like the entire world shattered. His entire world shattered. The disappointment flooded his expression once again, but it hit you that it was never directed at you — Tony was disappointed in himself. His eyes held the weight of failing as a father, of making you feel this rejected. He failed by making you feel rejected in the first place. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a suffocating hug; you weren’t sure if he’d ever actually be able to let go of it, yet it was the kind of hug you didn’t want to part from. A hug that shielded you from the entire world.

His lips pressed to your temple, along with a few stray tears he couldn’t catch beforehand. It was rare to catch your father tearful, yet you seemed to lower that guard when you started the conversation. He held you close, letting you cry out the feelings you’d locked away for so long.

“Y/N, you’re more than enough..” He lulled, voice breaking ever so slightly, “It’s my fault you ever felt like you weren’t..” His words were everything you’d hoped to hear. You’d began to believe the possibility that actually hearing them wasn’t actuality. This insecurity had driven you beyond wild, to the point where you believed that your father’s intentions were pinned against you.

They never were.

Tony held you in his arms for the next hour, letting you talk out your growing anxiety. You talked about everything from your fomo towards their retreats and trips, to how thrown off you were that Peter was your age.

“I actually think you two would make a cute couple.” Tony started, laughing at how quick you were to throw a punch at his bicep. The melancholy had worn off both of you, and the room started to fill with laughter. “I’m serious!” Tony threw his arms up to mock defeat before changing the topic a little. “But really, I think he wants to apologize to you for what happened.”

Your face drew a blank, mixing shock and confusion as you blinked at your father a few times. “Parker wants to apologize to me? For my meltdown?”

A shrug caught in your father’s posture. “You two are more similar than you think, hon.” His tone was light and sincere as he chuckled, quietly, “You both put the weight of other people’s mistakes on your shoulders.” His words draped a blanket of guilt over your body. Your own words from said meltdown began to replay through your brain like a broken record; the blame you’d thrown at Peter was wrongfully served.

You knew you needed to apologize.

After rebuilding trust with your father, and mentally rehearsing how to apologize to Peter, you made your way across the apartment to the guest room.

The door was already open, and gave you the perfect view of Peter seated on the edge of the bed. He was reading, fidgeting fingers at the edge of his pages, and chocolate curls shadowing his focused expression.

Now that you’d been able to release the steam of your self–consciousness, you realized that hatred wasn’t the actual feeling you had towards Peter; it was envy. And once you had talked things out with your father, the clouds of your judgment cleared from your vision and you could finally see Peter Parker for who he really was: a boy. A boy your age who needed a place to crash for the weekend.

You felt guilty for interrupting his reading, but at this point, the feeling was a tiny speck to add to your growing pile of culpability. The knock was gentle, and immediately pulled his eyes to meet yours.

“Mind if I come in for a minute?” You had to croak the words out, but still managed to keep a softness to your tone. You didn’t want to yell at him again, or come across like you were about to.

The look he gave you wasn’t one you weren’t expecting; he eyed you like he’d committed an unforgivable crime, or like you’d break if he didn’t hold you together. It gave you reassurance that this apology definitely needed to come out sooner than later.

Peter book–marked his place without looking, keeping his stare fixed on you while he nodded. “Please,” He gestured to the foot of the bed beside him, “Sit. I– uh, I was planning to find you and see if you were alright, but I didn’t want to interrupt your space.”

As you sat down beside him, a smile touched your lips at how thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that, but I–I owe you an apology, Peter..” You never broke your eye contact, but the look in your eyes grew more urgent, pleading. “I am so sorry for speaking to you that way, and–”

You cut yourself off at the sight of Peter waving his hands in dismissal. He mirrored the look in your eyes, “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like I’m here to replace you.” His words held a direness that yours should have. Your dad was right, Peter really was putting the gravity of this into his hands.

To stop his spiral, you touched his arm for a minute, “Peter, that wasn’t your fault. It was mine for assuming and unloading all of that shit onto you. And I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes alone begged you to let him win the argument. “I still could have–”

You cut him off, “Peter, it’s not your fault.” You tried to emphasize your point, noticing the way he read your expression. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, searching for what looked like a sign of your uncertainty. His lips parted to contribute his side of the argument, but one look from you shut his trap pretty quickly.

Peter’s shoulder’s eased, but his eyes still glistened with ambition. He wanted you to understand his perspective a little. “Did your dad tell you how nervous I was to meet you?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting. Your eyes widened a little, shaking your head in response. Peter Parker? Nervous to meet you? The way your dad talked about him didn’t set him up to be that way. Of course, seeing him in front of you changed your perception a little. “No, he didn’t.” You were honest.

He wet his lips, parting them with the warmest smile you’d ever set your eyes on. The laugh that spilt from them was melodic, laced with a bit of nerves. He rubbed a muscle on the back of his neck, suddenly choking up. “Yeah, I was pretty nervous.” His brow arched slightly, complimenting his grin photogenically. “I was nervous ‘cause Mister Stark’s always talking the world to me about his amazing daughter.” Peter’s smile grew in your direction, stirring a hurricane of butterflies through your stomach.

It felt like the two of you were in the midst of a staring contest; though, instead of the intense anticipation glistening in each other’s eyes, you mutually stared at each other in security. You’d both had the immense pressure of making good impressions toward the other on your shoulders.

Peter repositioned himself on the bed, now seated facing you. His legs were crossed beneath him, his knee a hair from touching yours. “You, Y/N, are not only his greatest accomplishment, but you’re his best friend.” His words spread like butter over every worry you’d had, melting away that crippling insecurity with it. “I think he wants to be you when he grows up.”

The laughs that bubbled up your throat brought attention to the tears brimming your eyes. You blinked them away, mirroring Peter’s earnest expression. “I can tell why my dad’s always talking about you.” You told him, “And here I was thinking you’d be some old ass dude living in his mother’s basement, but here we are.”

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t be drop–dead gorgeous.” His cheeks were ablaze with crimson, sending a pink glow of your own to your complexion. “But, here we are.”

Your smile grew, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Alright, casanova. Save it for the love letters.” It felt nice to share laughter like this with Peter. You were glad that you gave him a second chance. Not breaking eye contact, you slid off the bed and rose to your feet. “I’ll let you get back to your reading”

Peter watched you get up to go, looking a little disappointed. You were almost surprised, but likewise, both you and Peter hid the honesty of your feelings behind the curtains of a smile.

“You don’t have to. You could stay if you want.” He started, but a look flashed behind his eyes that was rather telling; he seemed to panic over his eagerness for your company. “Unless you don’t want to–”

Biting the inside of your cheek hurt, but it was the only way to hide how wide your smile grew. “I’d love to, but I need to finish that circuit board.” And thus, the idea struck you. “You doing anything later though?”

His brows pressed together in a curious way. “Not really. You planning something?”

“Yeah. My dad and I usually have movie nights tonight.” You took paces backwards towards the door, but stalled from the moment you’d have to part ways. “You should join us! It’s my turn to pick.”

The sight of his dimples made you realize just how much you’d grown fond of his smile. It was already getting difficult to leave his presence; you knew if you didn’t leave now, you probably never would.

“Well, then you better pick a good one, just for me.” He challenged. You’d make it your goal to satisfy his request.

If even possible, it felt like your grin grew. “I plan to.”

And that said, the three of you met in the home–theater and watched Jurassic Park together. You had Tony on your left geeking out over the CGI technology from the 80s, and Peter on his left geeking out about how accurate the movie was from the book. It made your film decision that much better. It also was the best movie night you’d had in a long while.

Perhaps your dad was right: you and Peter Parker really would get along great.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

It Takes A Village Part 1 (Y/N Hotchner)

Warnings: some foul language, criminal minds level amount of gore

A/N: sorry this took so long to do lol it turned out to be mostly what I've written before lol

You weren’t pissed per se, just more… shocked, and maybe a little hurt, that Derek hadn’t spoken to you. One moment you were trying to fill out paperwork from a million different files, the next Derek and Garcia were telling the team they had found Declan. You had opted to wait with Garcia for Aaron to come back. It had been a hot minute since you’d seen him.

“Holy shit, you grew a beard?!” Is the first thing that slips out of your mouth. 

From there, everything was a blur. Doyle was in custody, he wasn’t exactly being helpful - which was annoying as it was his son you were trying to find afterall. 

“You get anywhere with Doyle?” Reid asked, as JJ, Derek, and Rossi walked back into the round table room.

“Doyle doesn’t think Gerace has the guts to take him on.” Derek said, you rolled your eyes. Of course he doesn’t, the man has a massive ego.

“But that’s definitely Gerace on the tape.” Garcia sighed as she sat down. 

Derek turned to your brother as he walked into the room. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks. Everybody take a seat.” You frowned, his tone (and eyebrows) indicating that something was definitely up. 

“Why? What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Derek asked, taking a seat next to you.

Aaron looked at you all, you were with Jack on this, you were not a fan of the beard. “Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team.” Your brother stated. “As you all know Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle.”

You swallowed, hand reaching for Derek’s under the desk.

“But the doctors were able to stabilise her.” Aaron continued. “And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

You looked at your brother in disbelief, this didn’t make any sense. “Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.” 

“She’s alive?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. 

“But we buried her.” Reid stated, looking up at Hotch from his seat. 

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.”

“Any issues?” Derek asked, his voice clipped. “Yeah, I got issues.”

You turned, seeing Emily. Your face dropped. What the fuck. Maybe you were going insane? That was the only other option. Otherwise your brother had lied to you. The one person (apart from Derek) that you thought would never lie to you.

You turned to Aaron, who winced when he saw the hurt and betrayal that filled your eyes. You took a deep breath and just like that, the mask was up and the betrayal was hidden. You turned to Emily, “It’s great to see you’re okay,”

“It’s good to see you too.” She said, giving you a smile. 

You listened patiently as they all discussed the case. You didn’t have it in you. You just listened. As they continue, realising that the alpha of the team (a phrase you struggled to take seriously) was in fact a woman. When the team parted ways to investigate, you stood to make your way to the bathroom. 

“(Y/N)-”

“I don’t want to speak to you right now,”

“(Y/N), please just listen-”

“What, Aaron? You are the one person I could always trust and I did,” You paused, “There was no one else I trusted completely. I trusted you so much, you’re my big brother Aaron. I’ve always trusted you- not mum, not dad, heck I don’t even trust Sean as much, but you? I’ve always trusted you,”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said, “We couldn’t tell anyone, it was for Emily’s safety,”

“We?”

“Me and JJ,”

“Right,” You said shortly, “JJ knew.”

“Just let me explain,”

“There’s nothing to explain.” You said shortly. “Emily’s alive and you chose to keep it from me.” 

“I had to,”

“Why because of protocol? Because it needed to be confidential?” You knew what you said was right because Aaron’s eyebrow softly twitched. “Who else would I have told Aaron? Who else? I don’t speak to anyone outside of this team! I don’t have a family, a Haley, a Will, children, fuck, I don’t even have a Sergio! I’ve got this team, that’s it! I wouldn’t have told anyone because I don’t have anyone to tell! You know that. That’s what hurts Aaron. So no, I don’t want to listen to you come up with some lame, half-ass excuse about safety.”

“(Y/N), I couldn't tell you in case you told anyone.” 

“Who would I have fucking told Aaron?! Who would I have told?!” You yell, fist slamming into the desk in front of you. “I have fuck all else! My life is this team and that's it! And you fucking know it! So please, tell me, who would I have told!”

You watch Aaron open his mouth for a split second before closing as he looks down.

“You know what, Aaron? Go fuck yourself. I can’t be fucked to deal with this right now.” You give him a tight smile before walking away.

[dracoxsworld]

ARRANGED - Draco M. x Reader PART ONE | “She’ll Do”

You brush your soft hair. Apply a beautiful red shade of lipstick on your even softer lips. You look at yourself in your vanity, the vanity your father built with you when you turned sixteen. You smile at the memory.

Sixteen. Life was so much more simpler, you didn't have the worried you have today at 18. It's crazy how much changes in two years. You take a deep breath in. Today was the day you had been dreading. You and your family are a pure-blood family, and your family intends to keep it that way. Everyone knows your family, everyone. Meaning you have an impossibly high expectation to meet; marry someone you simply don't love. Because you're already in love with someone. Sadly, they don't meet your family's standards. He's half-blooded. You've fought with your parents, multiple times.

"But dad, I love Nicholas!" You beg. Tears burning in your eyes. "Y/N you know how this works. There will be no more arguing. Nicholas is a mud blood."

Mud blood. That's a word that's often thrown around in conversations in your household. Most witches and wizards today will turn in your direction in disbelief/disgust when it's used. But your family doesn't care.

You finish with the rest of your makeup. Today you were going to meet your future husband. The one that's been arranged and assigned to you. Your eyes gaze to an old photograph of you and Nicholas, at the Yule Ball. Tears form in your eyes again. You pick up the photograph gently with your fingers, handling it like fragile glass.

"I promise, Y/N. I will wait for you." Nicholas said, smiling faintly. You couldn't even look him in the eye when your parents refused to let him marry you, and the news broke out about your arranged marriage. "Nicholas, I am so sorry." You sob out. "Hey," he says softly, his hand rubbing your shoulder, the other gently grabbing your chin pulling your face in the direction of him. "It will be okay, Y/N. I love you, we will make it through this." He consoles you.

Nicholas promised you that you’d both somehow figure out a way to be together. You wanted to show him that you were hopeful, but deep down you were aware of what your family is capable of.

Not just your family, but the family you’re being married into. The Malfoy’s. You were marrying their son, Draco.

You and Draco had attended Hogwarts together, the same house, same classes, played Quidditch together on the Slytherin team, but no matter how much coincidental time you spent together; your beliefs could never be the same.

“Y/N, imagine how disappointed your father would be with you if he knew you were still dating that foul mud blood, Nicholas.” Draco would tease you as he saw you and Nicholas holding hands walking down the hall. “Well, you make your father disappointed without even trying, don’t you, Malfoy?” Nicholas would spit back. “Nicholas, he’s not worth it.” You’d whisper.

“Y/N! Are you ready?” You heard your mother call. Almost time. “Almost!” You call back. “Well hurry up, you can’t take all day!”

You sigh. You finish your hair by putting it up in an elegant bun with a hair clip uncreated with diamonds, and added hair spray for support. Your dress was long, and elegant. Dark green with lace around her neck line. Your collar bones poked out with your long necklace in the middle, that matches your hair clip. You were ready, for the worst day of your life.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You come down the steps of in your opinion, oversized house. Your mom greets you at the bottom. She gasps and he hand covers her mouth. “Oh Y/N.. You look beautiful. Draco will simply melt when he sees you.”

“Gross.” Your mutter in annoyance. “Melvins Beard, Y/N get over yourself! This is for the good of not only the family, but you!” Your mother stressed. “For me? I have already found the love of my life! But he didn’t fit your standards! So I am being forced to marry someone I have no interest in even being friends with!” You blurt out. Your mother just stares at you. If smoke could burst out of her ears, it would.

“Y/N. This is how our family works. This is your life. You were born into the family, and this is the life and rules you live by as a member of this family. Your father and I were arranged.”

“And how did that turn out? You’re both home together all the time but don’t say a single word to each other! You have nothing in common.”

“We created you. We continued to build the empire together. We love each other.” Your mother insisted.

“You’re in denial.” You said finally.

You and your mother left your manor to meet your father, who had already arrived at the Malfoys. "Y/N, before we go in there, please develop an open mind." Your mother said while gently grabbing your hand. "Me have an open mind?" You responded. "I told you the love of my life, and he wasn't good enough for YOU." you say with a harsh tone. Without giving her the chance to respond, you left the car. You walk up to the Malfoy manner. It is so gloomy, almost like a dark cloud is hanging above it. The whole exterior is a pitch black color, the gate to the manor looks terrifying, like the house where you'd accidentally kick your ball into the yard, and wouldn't dare to get it back.

You take a deep breath. Apart of you was scared, another was angry. Either emotion was to not to be shown. A guard goes up to the gate.

"Name?" The man asks, his face covered with his hood. All you can see is his goatee that comes to a point.

"Y/F/N." You huff out, crossing your arms from the cold.

"Congratulations on the marriage, future Mrs. Malfoy." The guard says to you, his yellowing teeth form into a smile. You roll your eyes. The guard opens the gate for you, allowing you to enter. You walk up to the manor, down a long runway. Each side were tall hedges, to hide whatever they hid around their home. You could feel anxiety bubbling in your stomach. You know Voldemort would hide out here from time to time. Yes, the one who shall not be named, has probably walked down the same runway you are right now.

You arrive to the Malfoy’s front door, and knock. Narcissa answers and smiles. “Y/N. The pleasure is mine; welcome to our home.” She said gracefully. Admittedly, Narcissa was beautiful. Her white and black hair, strategically done up together. He bright red lips pop against her pale white skin. “Thank you madam.” You said, bowing at her. You enter in the manor.

“I’ve been told you’re not a fan of the arrangement.” Narcissa says simply, closing the door behind you, then turning towards you.

You sigh. You’re tired of explaining yourself to people who won’t listen. “It’s nothing against Draco personally, but Narcissa- I’ve already met my love.”

“Y/N, how are your parents? They were arranged I’m sure you know.” Narcissa asked, faintly smiling at you.

“They don’t talk. They don’t love each other, married for blood status.” You explained.

“Yes, you see, me and Lucius are the opposite. We love each other. We married for blood status. We were arranged,” Narcissa started. “Correct me if I am wrong, but even when people marry the person they ‘love’ they still divorce, and Lucius and I are an example of an arranged marriage that has turned out lovely.”

You stare at Narcissa. Nothing she said really made you feel better; nor make sense. “Mrs. Malfoy. You and Lucius have the same beliefs, same meaning of life, everything. Draco and I have nothing in common-“

“Did someone say my name?” A voice from the half to the right of you calls. You and Narcissa turn towards the direction of the voice. Draco Malfoy himself comes out of the hall. He stops to look at you, does not react, and continues to walk towards you.

“I guess she’ll do, mother.” He said matter of factly. Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her blonde haired son. “Of course she’ll do, Draco. She’s beautiful.” Draco shrugged.

You scoffed. “I did not spend hours getting ready for a man who I have no interest in marrying just for you to say ‘she’ll do.’” You spit at him.

“She’s sassy.” Draco said, ignoring you. “On we go then,” he added, motioning for you both to follow him to the ball room. Your jaw dropped as you watched him walk off. “Ignore him, he’s not a morning person.” Narcissa said nervously. “Let’s go, dear.” She said after a moment, putting her arm around yours.

You and Narcissa arrive in the ballroom. Lucius and your father are talking near the Malfoy’s thrones. Your father looks at you; and smiles. Your expression doesn’t change from your blank one.

Draco turned around, facing you. He held his hand out, as an offer. You take a deep breath and take it.

He brings you close. “Meet me in the dining area in 10 minutes.” He whispers. You look at him with an eyebrow raised. He gives you a smug look. “Don’t worry darling, I’m not interested in you like that quite yet.” He said, as if he was reading your mind.

“Y/N. Come see Lucius, and where is your mother?” Your father asks. You shrug, and walk up to the men. “I’m not sure, I left her in the car, I’m sure she’ll be here in a moment.” You say, then turn to Lucius. You bow. “Mr.Malfoy.” you greet him.

“Y/N. It’s a pleasure, my dear.” He says in his monotone voice. “Draco is a lucky man, I must say.” Lucius says, eyeing you up and down. You suddenly feel yourself stepping closer to your father. “Yes, she looks just like her mother.” Your dad says nervously. His hand protectively lands on your shoulder.

“You’ll be staying with the Malfoy’s after the wedding, Y/N. Learning how they live; then hopefully, you and Draco will be able to live on your own.” Your father explained to you. You nodded. “You’ll have a choice of our many manors, Y/N. Although, I’m sure Draco already has one in mind that he’s picked.” Lucius added.

“This is crazy. I don’t even want to be in the same room as anybody from the Malfoy family. And now I’ll have to live with them? Nobody told me.” You thought. You then suddenly remember your meeting with Draco. “If you two gentlemen will excuse me, I need to use the ladies room.” You say, smiling at them both. They both nod, and you go off to find the kitchen.

It took a while, but you found it. Draco, dressed in an all black suit with a slytherin pin, his platinum blonde hair, leaning against the counter.

“You’re late.”

[jamiesfootball]

WAIT i just had another idea. jamie STARTS as a hitting apprentice to roy, but slowly comes to realize - and roy comes to realize - it's more upsetting to him than it is satisfying to do that job, and then they SWITCH him to hacking. which maybe they did or didn't have a dedicated hacker before and they were just making do, or maybe it was nate and he (temporarily) switched sides, or whatever. but maybe like jamie's injured for a minute and has to sit out hitting, and roy's doing that for a job, and then some kind of hackery shit needs to happen that whoever's doing that at the moment - beard? ted even trying it would be an unprecedented disaster, we know - doesn't know how to do or isn't doing the Best Way, and jamie just steps in (vaguely loopy on pain killers) and just. Does it. Perfectly. mumbling some jargony bullshit in fucking mancunian that no one can understand only half because of the mumbling and the accent. and they're all like okay jamie. congratulations on your new position. and he resists it at first because he doesn't think he fits the Archetype or whatever for a hacker, but like. he likes it and he's good at it, and it brings the team together so well to have him as The Guy In The Chair TM. and that's their "go through me" total football moment.

Homie I am sitting across from you and leaning in very closely and taking your face gently in my hands-

Because this implies, somewhere along the lines, that Jamie’s two-bit crime fixer dad pushed his kid into becoming a hitter.

He probably knew a guy who needed extra muscle in a pinch and offered up his son. His son who was athletic, who was on the football team and doing well at it, so he had a bit of muscle on him. It was just supposed to be to fill a gap, look intimidating a for a few hours and earn your dad a couple hundred pounds, what’s the problem, not like you can’t take a hit, can’t you?

And it didn’t matter that Jamie didn’t want to do it, cause his dad never listened to him anyways. Not when he was warning him ‘you know those messages ain’t just your phones anymore, the companies back em up so the police can search em’. Not when he tried to explain ‘no you ain’t got stick somebody up in an alley anymore, see I’ve got the skimmer you can just hit the ATM’. And definitely not when he said ‘they got CCTV everywhere now, you gotta be more careful’

And then James got arrested. And he took the fall for a crime boss that promised to do right by him but didn’t. And then, well, wasn’t anyone looking out for Jamie, and he had a book full of contacts his dad left behind, and a fucking reputation for all the goon work he’d done, and he’d only ever been good for one thing anyways, and that was the only thing he’d ever gotten paid to do so-

He became a hitter. And a fucking good one too. Simple as that.

[rose-of-the-grave]

All A Bad Dream?

Pairing: James x Lily

I know I haven't written in a while but I finally finished another request that I've been working on! This is based off of this request. I hope you enjoy! I'm the author (please don't repost).

Masterlist. Series Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: fluff, hospital, coma, Lily and James are alive, Harry was avada kedavraed, canon divergence in 7th book, cliff hanger(I suck at endings)

Word Count: 565

Description: Harry awakens in a hospital bed after being killed by Voldemort only to see his parents alive.

Taglist: @sylveryfire

With a flash of green light, illuminating the forest, Harry fell to the ground. Next thing he knew, he was lying in bed, opening his eyes. He was surrounded by white, the entire room was the same color. In the distance he heard voices, people yelling random things. Exhaustion taking over, he closed his eyes again. The last thing he heard was, “The patient in room 394 is awake! I repeat, he is awake!”

When he awoke again it was to a room abuzz with energy. Nurses were hurrying around. Somehow sensing their presence he turned his head to look at a very tired couple sitting beside his bed. It took him a second to realize where he recognized them from. But how could they be here? Was he dead?

“Harry! You are awake! Oh, thank God!” Lily exclaimed, tearing up. James squeezed her shoulder, similarly in a state of shock.

“Mum? Dad? You’re both alive?!” He said, stunned. “What happened…?”

His dad gave him a sad look, “Son, you’ve been in a coma for years. We’d almost given up hope that you would ever wake up.”

Lily took his hand in hers and squeezed. “We both missed you so much. I can hardly believe my eyes!”

“And we’re both so very sorry. We never should have looked away for even a second.”

Lily shushed him, “We had no way of knowing that he would trip and hit his head on the platform.”

Harry looked at them, puzzled, trying to piece it all together. Was it possible that all of his years at Hogwarts, all his years living with the Dursleys was all just a dream? Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, all of them? They had seemed so real, how could he have made them up?

“When we get home, I promise we’ll get you your favorite food, all of it. Whatever you want. I’m just so thankful you’re awake.” Lily said through tears. She reached over to hug him, wrapping him in her warm embrace. He never thought he’d get to hug his mom but here she was, alive. He put his arms around her, squeezing tightly as if she might disappear if he let go for even a second.

“Mama loves you. So much.” She pulled away slightly to kiss his forehead before standing up.

His dad leaned down as well to hug him, pulling him into a fierce bear hug. When he stood up he wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulders and they both smiled at him, exhausted yet happy now that after years of waiting their only son was finally returned to them.

Harry looked up at them and vowed that he would do anything to keep them. He didn’t think he could lose them, not again.

A nurse knocked on the door before peeking in. “Visiting hours are over.”

“We’ll be back again tomorrow morning.” Lily promised.

“Love you!” He said.

They turned to him one last time. “We love you too.”

He watched as they closed the door behind them. On their way out, Lily and James walked by the front desk as two kids, one a bushy haired girl and the other a tall red-haired boy accompanied by a very tall man in a large coat with very bushy hair and beard. They passed by them without giving them a second glance.

Was it just a bad dream after all?

[myocsfanfictions]

Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

They had to leave the farm, and this time, they had to be on the road for seven months. Sarah and Nicki can not help but wonder and pray to find a new place. A place where they and their new family could start a life, maybe in peace, maybe forever. Does a safe heaven really exist in a world like the one they are facing?

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 4

NICOLETTE

After eight months, the group was finally able to spend more than two nights in the same place. T-Dog had been searching for supplies with Carol when they stumbled upon a little village in the middle of nowhere in Georgia. They had found an abandoned school where they could finally rest.

Rick had kept them safe throughout the winter, and Nicki was well aware of that, but he had made them move around constantly. Whenever he wasn’t sure about the safety of a location, he preferred to find a better one. But now everyone was feeling fatigued, and Lori, even though she kept up the pace as if she weren’t about to deliver a baby in a few weeks, was starting to tire more easily. So, when Rick agreed to stay at the school for a few days,

"The school wasn’t big; it was a kindergarten with only three classrooms. They had cleared it of the walkers that had been inside, and Sarah had set up her traps at the doors to alert them if any walkers managed to get in. This way, they could escape through the window of the classroom they were using for sleep.

"Glenn," Rick said, making the guy look towards him. Take the map; I wanna see where the closer creek is. Tomorrow, we might need more water." Glenn got up from where he was sitting next to Maggie and then followed Rick and Daryl to the other side of the classroom.

"You think we can stay here?" Nicki heard Carol ask Hershel. The man's beard and hair had grown, but Nicolette had to admit that the new look suited the old man. It made him look kind of badass.

"I don't know," he answered with the usual gentle tone. "The herd is far from here, but it's going to catch up sooner than later. " Then his eyes went to Lori, who was talking with Sarah.

The day before they found the school, they had stumbled across a herd of walkers. They were in the cars, so they were all safe. But it was a pretty big herd—too big for that place to keep them safe.

Nicki chuckled with annoyance. She was too used to not feeling safe, not even inside four walls. It felt like a mockery. Nicolette had never believed in God, but if there was one, he surely had a strange sense of humor.

"Dad," she turned when she heard Shorty's voice, "I've seen a store just at the end of the road. I thought I could go take a look." Rick looked down at his son. He didn't like when Carl wanted to go alone on runs, but it had happened, and Nicki was sure that under the worry, he was proud of him. She had to be honest about that. Shorty was difficult to scare, and he had learned pretty quickly how to handle himself out there.

"Rick..." Lori spoke, clearly not agreeing with Carl going.

"I can do it!" Carl exclaimed, glaring at his mother before turning back to his father. Nicki could see the uncertainty in Rick's eyes, but she knew that not letting Carl go would only make him more angry at Lori. So she got up from the desk she was sitting on, grabbed her quiver, and slung it across her shoulders.

"I can go with him," she said, taking the bow in her hand. Her suggestion didn’t seem to sit well with Shorty, but she ignored him, waiting for Rick's response.

The sheriff had come to trust Nicki's skills with the bow; she had proven herself more than once. But what held everyone back was her age. They often said she was too young, but in those months, she had done whatever it took to survive, just like the rest of them. They couldn’t deny that. So, even though she noticed the glance shared between Daryl and Sarah, as well as Rick’s uncertainty, she was confident he would eventually let them go.

"Alright," he said finally, nodding. "Come back in two hours, no more than that."

"Alright," she answered, then looked at Carl. "Come on, Shorty."

The boy rolled his eyes before heading toward the door, followed by Nicki. But just as she was about to walk out, Sarah stopped her, a gun in her hand.

"Bring this, too," her sister said.

"I'm okay with the arrows," Nicki replied, but Sarah insisted.

"And I'm okay with this only if you bring a gun, too." Sarah was terrified by the idea of Nicki running out of arrows. It wasn't easy to find them; even Daryl had shown her how to make more. Her sister always wanted Nicki to be prepared with more than one weapon.

"Alright," Nicki agreed, at last, taking the gun and tucking it into the back of her jeans. Then she followed Carl out.

"You didn’t have to come with me," Carl grumbled, marching ahead. His sheriff hat perched confidently on his head, a backpack slung over his shoulders, and the gun firmly in hand.

"It’s true," she replied coolly, nodding. "But then you’d just sulk all day."

She caught his glare at her, "What's into you?"

Nicki knew that Carl had taken in the whole Lori and Shane situation very badly. He adored his father, and he loved Shane, too. He surely felt like his mother had betraid their family in more than one sense. But she also knew that Lori regretted what she had done.

"Do you know the meaning of cohabitation?" she asked, and she saw him look briefly in her direction.

"Yeah," he shot back, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "It means I’m stuck with you."

That made her chuckle, "And I'm with you," Nicki said with a shrug of her shoulders, "And you are a pain when you are angry."

"So you’re doing this for yourself?" he countered, his skepticism evident. He scoffed when she didn’t respond.

They walked in silence for several meters before Carl stopped in his tracks. Something had caught his attention. Nicki frowned as she looked in the same direction.

It was a house.

The girl wondered what had interested him so much. They had seen many houses like that one, and they had even found shelter in some of them. But she had no time to ask because he had already started making his way toward the house.

Nicolette took a breath. "I thought we were going to the store," she said, hands on her hips.

"You go," he replied. "You don't have to come with me."

Nicki rolled her eyes and caught up with him, taking him by the shoulder to turn him around. "I promised your father I would accompany you. And you should be thankful," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I know that..." he admitted, looking down. She observed him, his gaze fixed on the ground as he kicked the dirt softly with his foot.

"I don't want your 'thank you,'" Nicki said, making him look up. "But tell me what you want to do." He frowned, looking up at her.

"Why did you want to come with me?" Nicki cocked her head to the side.

"Why did you want to go to that house?" she asked, moving toward it. She chuckled when she heard him groan.

"It was not a stupid question," he muttered to himself as he caught up with her.

"So?" she pressed again.

"I hate when you don’t answer," he replied, making her chuckle again. But he continued, "My house was very similar." Nicki looked between him and the house.

"Is that so?" she asked, but he shrugged.

"We don’t have to go," he said dismissively. "Let’s just go to the store."

"Don’t be embarrassed," she called out when he was about to walk back to where they had come from. Carl shot her a small frown. "Come on," she said, gesturing toward the house with her head. "Let’s take a look."

The girl took one of her arrows, placing it against her bow as Carl gripped his gun. Nicki pressed one ear against the door to ensure there was no noise inside. The two of them shared a look before Carl reached for the doorknob and turned it open.

As they entered, the air was thick with dust, and an unsettling silence hung over everything. The walls were painted a faded peach, their once cheerful hue now dull and peeling. Wooden trim, chipped and weathered, outlined the windows, allowing faint rays of sunlight to filter through and illuminate the remnants of a life once lived.

The two of them nodded at each other, ready to separate to see if any walkers were inside. Carl headed toward the kitchen while Nicki stepped into the living room. There was a worn leather sofa that sat crookedly, flanked by mismatched chairs that had seen better days. A patterned rug lay askew on the hardwood floor, which creaked underfoot, echoing the absence of life. On a glass coffee table, a stack of magazines lay untouched. It didn’t seem there were any walkers in that room.

She walked out into the corridor, where she noticed framed photos of smiling families hanging crookedly on the walls. Their faces were dust-covered, whispering stories of joy now overshadowed by the stark reality of abandonment.

Then she saw Carl walking out of the kitchen, and as he turned to look at her, Nicki suddenly heard a growling sound. It was louder than usual, and then, from around the corner, a walker appeared.

"Behind you!" they both shouted at the same moment. Nicki quickly shot her arrow at the walker behind Carl as he fired in her direction. When she turned, she saw the walker behind her now lying on the ground, Carl's bullet in its skull.

"The bastard was in the closet," she whispered to herself, realizing she hadn’t noticed it there. Then she turned to Carl, sharing a nod of gratitude with him.

Then Nicki glanced back at the walker behind her. It was a woman, and as she looked at the photos on the wall, she realized it was the same woman who had once lived there. When she turned to follow Carl up the stairs, she noticed that the man from the photos was also present. She took a deep breath, hoping that at least one of them hadn’t killed the other.

Shaking off those thoughts, she made her way upstairs. The floor seemed clear as she looked around for Carl. She didn’t have to try hard to find him; he was looking at more pictures in a drawer in the corridor.

"It’s a pretty house," she said, leaning her back against the wall next to Carl, who looked at her with curiosity.

"I’ve never asked you," he reflected, "Did you live in a house like this one?"

Nicki shook her head, looking down. "No, an apartment," she answered. Her mind drifted back to her parents. She really hoped that one day she would see them again—or at least find out what had happened to them. And their grandmother.

"It must be hard for you," he said, keeping his blue eyes on her. "Not knowing." Tears welled up in Nicki's eyes as she thought about her parents.

"It’s alright," he said again, but his tone made her frown. He was speaking almost softly to her. "You don’t have to say anything. I’ll keep your secret, though."

She looked at him, confused. "What secret?" she asked, her voice devoid of harshness.

"What makes you cry," he answered.

She shook her head, drying her tears. "It’s not exactly a secret."

Then he smiled at her, a genuine smile. "I’ll keep it anyway," he said before walking toward the bedroom. Nicki watched him with wide eyes, then a little chuckle escaped her lips as she took another arrow and followed him.

Lucky for them, there was no walker inside, so they started to look around. Nicki walked toward the drawer and opened it. There were many shirts. They could use some.

For an instant, she felt a pang of sympathy for the couple lying dead downstairs, but once again, she pushed that thought aside. Gesturing to Carl to hand her his backpack, she opened it to put some clothes inside.

"Cool!" she heard him exclaim as he walked to a shelf. "Is this a pair of binoculars?" Nicki chuckled as he pointed them at her.

"Does it work?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, turning to look outside. "We could use them to..." Nicki frowned as he suddenly stopped talking and walked back toward her. "We gotta go," he said, his face pale.

"What?" she asked, but he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along with him.

"A herd," he said, making her eyes widen. Was the herd already there? It couldn’t be. That herd was heading in another direction. How did they get so far so quickly?

"Where are they?" Nicki asked as they sprinted toward the door of the house.

"They're coming from the east," he answered, glancing at the street in that direction. Nicki followed his gaze. They would be there any minute now.

"We gotta tell the others," she said, nudging him to run toward the school.

The two of them raced side by side, adrenaline fueling their speed as Nicki glanced back over her shoulder to ensure no walkers were in pursuit. They weren’t far from the school, and with their urgency, they burst through the doors and into the classroom.

"Dad!" Carl cried, his voice a mix of fear and urgency.

"Carl!" Nicki heard Rick call as he sprinted toward his son. "What’s going on?"

"We gotta go now!" Carl exclaimed, his eyes wide with panic.

"A herd is coming," Nicki panted, trying to catch her breath. "Carl saw them coming from the east."

Rick's eyes widened in alarm. "Daryl!" he shouted, turning on his heel and leading them back into the classroom. "We gotta move! Everyone, get up!"

Nicki met Sarah's gaze for a brief moment, then rushed over to her sister to help gather their sleeping bags, their earlier calm shattered by the looming threat.

"Lori, let me help!" Carol called out as she ran to assist Lori. In the chaos, Hershel and Beth quickly packed away their food while Rick, Daryl, and Maggie stood guard by the door, eyes scanning for any signs of danger. Glenn and T-Dog had already jumped out of the window to get the cars running.

"Come on! Come on!" Glenn urged, running back to help pass bags through the window. One by one, they scrambled out, each person moving with a sense of urgency. Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Hershel piled into one car, while Nicki climbed into another with Carol and T-Dog. Rick, Lori, and Carl took their own vehicle, and Daryl sped off on his bike with Sarah.

As they left the town, Nicki turned around and caught sight of at least forty walkers roaming the streets, their grotesque figures stumbling aimlessly. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she sank back in her seat, feeling the weight of despair settle over her. Once again, they were back on the road, a relentless journey through a nightmare that seemed never-ending. When would this horror finally stop? When would they find a safe place?

[fanficfanattic]

Okay, I’m doing it! Posting a ficlet here. Why is the Ted Lasso fandom so great and also so very wild?

It’s found family, Sam and Jamie as best friends and brothers. Just under 1,000 words and neither extra edited or britpicked at all.

Sam had to have planned it, for all that it seemed like he sprung it on Jamie out of nowhere. Because of the extra training with Roy, Jamie was now almost always the first to arrive at the club. That used to be Isaac, saying he should as captain, but after he realized he’d never beat Jamie, he stopped worrying about keeping it up.

He hadn’t wanted anyone to arrive to the club and be alone. But Jamie wasn’t alone, not really, since Coach Kent was always with him.

And Sam, beautiful innocent baby angel Sam, took advantage of this fact. Like a beautiful devilish baby angel!

He didn’t even wait for Jamie to finish changing before breaking the silence.

“Before, one of the reasons you’d lash out at me…it was because you were jealous of my relationship with my father.” He didn’t even bother to make it sound like a question.

Still, Jamie nodded in answer. And then thought about accountability. He had to make the apology, not just agree with Sam’s assessment.

“That weren’t right of me, Sammy. I’m sorry, I knew it then but just…he seems like a really good da.”

Sam’s grin after that put him back to normal angel status for Jamie. And then his next response put him back into devil baby status. Was a real roller-coaster of a morning Number 24 was putting him through.

“Well, that is easy to resolve. We’ll just share him.” Jamie laughs even though Sam said it so earnestly. At the sound, Sam smiles again, but Jamie isn’t falling for that. He is proven right to have had those doubts because Sam gets out his phone to video call someone.

Of course it was Ola, Sam had directly told him that they were going to share his father.

“Hello my son.”

“Hello, Daddy. I want to introduce you to your other son.”

His dad repeats it, half a question in his voice, even as Jamie goes “Sam, what the fuck?”

“Daddy, you remember Jamie.” It wasn’t a question, so Ola didn’t answer it. He just looked at the startled face of Sam’s surprising best friend.

And he has heard Sam say so very much about Jamie Tartt:

—from the beginning of Jamie’s loan when Sam became increasingly upset but tried not to be bitter.

—from when he heard the rumor that Jamie was coming back but Coach Lasso said he wasn’t.

—from how betrayed he felt when Jamie did show up, and how he took that hurt out on Jamie. Even though it didn’t feel like that’s what he was doing at the time.

—to the begrudging respect when Jamie covered the logo and told the team that they should all wear the same kit.

—to Sam witnessing Jamie’s father, pretend punching towards his son in a way that made Jamie tense up, suggesting that he never knew when it was pretend and when it was real. That it ever had been real was unfathomably evil.

—to the pride Sam felt, that he thinks everyone felt, even Coach Lasso before he disappeared- that Jamie used what he’d learned in therapy. To set a boundary, to repeat it without needing to justify it, to be calm when his father was trying to rile him up.

—to the fear he felt, when that man laid hands on Jamie, pulling and shoving, and everyone knew, then, that he wouldn’t hesitate to turn violent against his son.

—except Jamie defended himself. Sam said it was a solid punch but that it wasn’t practiced. Because Jamie riled up other players, and he could shove with the best of them, but he didn’t ever take it farther than that.

—except “Jamie looked lost, daddy. Like he had no idea what to do after protecting himself, because he’d never done that before.”

—except Jamie’s dad got up, laughing cruelly, saying he’d let Jamie have that one for free even as he was preparing to exact a cost.

—and then Beard had removed him. Swooped in to protect Jamie from his father’s wrath.

—and then Roy swooped in to hug Jamie, to hold all his pieces close so that when he broke, it would be easier for Jamie to put himself back together.

“Daddy, you remember Jamie.”

“Of course I do, how could I ever forget my second son?” He kept the same warmth and love in his voice when addressing them.

“You’re both barmy!” Jamie shouted at the phone, at Sam, at his apparent new father. But with his head thrown back as he opened his mouth impossibly wide to laugh. For all that his biological father tried to make him feel small, Jamie refused to be so; filling up any room with his presence. Both Obisanyas loved that for him.

But for now, Sam just chided him, “Is that any way to talk to your father and brother?” After Ola’s chuckle, the three of them had a slightly more normal conversation about their past week. Still, Jamie became hyperaware as teammates trickled in and saw them.

Sam might move the phone in a circle, after checking the state of people’s dress, so they could all chime in a hello. But he never had someone right by him to converse with his dad. Well, their dad now. Sam had meant this sharing business, it turned out.

They ended the call when Roy entered the room, immediately calling the room to task when he spotted this unusual set-up.

“The fuck is going on with Tartt and Sam?”

“That’s our cue, gotta go, it was great talking to you…Da…?” Jamie offered tentatively. His unsure smile widened when Ola agreed it was nice to catch up.

He waited until Ola and Sam finished, but was surprised by the second send off.

“Goodbye my sons, I love you so very much.”

Sam hit end, and the room grew loud with hollering. Jamie was right there with the lads, but he was grinning like a loon when he called out “Goddamnit Samuel!“

“What!”

“It’s less than a week until Father’s Day. How fast is the mail from England to Nigeria?!?”

[floatingonalowvibe]

chapter six, part one

After reading that letter, I had just a moment to think.

I didn’t think of anything in general, but just a moment to sit.

The joint had burnt out a long while ago, but the high was still strong enough for me to feel floaty and light.

I knew Dad was coming to visit the family in a few weeks, so that would be the time I would leave.

Ever since I first visited the North Pole that one faithful night, it seemed so alluring to me, like it wanted me to stay. It was so comforting, the small snow flurries, the faint smell of something I can only describe as a Christmas smell. And the friendlier than ever elves, how they would let me watch their work, and how even sometimes they would let me help. I still know how to make a few trinkets that they taught me how to make. I will never forget the wonderful feeling of the North Pole. The feeling of belonging was always there. The human world could never compare.

I could never forget Bernard, how whenever I think of him, the smell of peppermint and cinnamon finds a way to waft into my nose and calm my mind. His tall stance of confidence, how he would loom over me when I was around him. His tight curls, lopsided hat. I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

I could imagine his voice, how smooth it was.

God, I can't get enough of him.

He's just so.....i don’t even know how to describe it.

His pointed ears, always rosey face with a slight sparkle to it.

I knew it was the drugs talking, but he was beautiful.

~one week later~

this weekend dad was coming over. I have been waiting for what feels like forever.

Charlie helped me pack up a good amount of the items I owned. in total, I had one large suitcase and two bookbags filled. I didnt own much, but a cherish what I have.

everyone was downstairs, Charlie and I were sitting in the living room, him being busy trying to figure out how to fix a CD player he got about a month ago. I on the other hand, was going through old cassettes I had, figuring out which ones I could erase and re-tape for different songs. Neil and mom were both in the kitchen, talking about some boring adult stuff. I know I'm basically an adult, but it doesn't seem right to me. being an adult sounds scary to me.

everything was silent, except the crackling fireplace charlie and I started about an hour ago.

the silence was broken by a rythmic knocking on the front door. Charlie and I immediately bolted for out seats in the living room to the door.

we were greated by none other than dad, who sported a nice red sweater this evening. he looked jolly as ever, with his rosy cheeks, big round belly, and white hair with a matching beard.

"Hiya guys!" he said, opening his arms to give us two a hug. we both have him a big bear hug, which he returned with an even bigger bear hug.

we all had huge smiles on our faces as we walked into the house, Charlie going on a rant to dad about all the interesting things that have happened since he has been gone. I just watched him.

~pretend I wrote a whole dinner scene~

I was back to my place in the living room, stuffed from the dinner.dad and Charlie were sitting next to me, dad helping Charlie figure out his CD player.

I glanced over to the clock that sat above the fireplace, it read 8:30, right on the dot.

I made an agreement with mom that I could leave at 9:00, so I have been anxiously waiting for that time to roll around. And now it was almost time.

I got up from my spot, causing dad to ask here I was going. I replied, telling him I was grabbing my stuff, getting ready to leave.

I made my way up the stairs, walking into my room.I grabbed my bags, looking around at my room. I wasn't going to miss anything.

~timeskip, theyre about to leave~

hugs and kisses were being tossed around as we were standing outside by dad's sleigh. Mom had me in bone crushing hug, not wanting to let go of her son who she loved dearly. I awkwardly hugged her back, reassuring her that I would be back before she knew it. I was only staying there for a few months to see how I liked it there.

Niel was right behind her, giving me a big hug. he was telling me how much he was going to miss me, how well I'm going to do, and reassuring with me that I got everything I needed.

last but certainly not least, was Charlie. he was almost in tears as he hugged me. I hugged him tight, talking him that I would write letters. His hug lasted longer than any of the other hugs.

after yet another round of hugs, kisses, and goodbyes, dad and I were off.

the feeling of the crisp air flying through my hair was amazing. I couldn't wait to get to the north pole.

part 2 should be posted later today.

any type of interaction with this story is greatly appreciated.

go drink some water.

[harrison-abbott]

Dwarfed Hand

Beth’s newish boyfriend invited her over to his folk’s place to meet with his father. Beth had been with her boyfriend, Mickey, for five months, and really liked him and she hoped that he liked her as well. He seemed to. And the invitation to meet the parents was one of those next steps, right?

It wasn’t parent(s), plural, per se. Mickey’s Dad lived with this other woman, not Mickey’s mother. But Mickey didn’t call her a stepmother.

His father lived in this plush part of town. When they got to the flat, Beth somehow knew she could never afford such a place as this. [Apparently the Dad ‘worked in Insurance’, Mickey had said; though he didn’t expand from there.]

After Mickey rang the doorbell, this man who looked nothing like Mickey appeared. He had a huge beard, whereas Mickey was blonde babyface.

“Hello there,” the bearded father said. He shook hands with Mickey and the son walked in ahead of Beth. He turned to Beth and offered a hand and said, “I’m Connor.” He shook hands with Beth as if she were a man – the force of the shake and the discrepancy with her dwarfed female hand.

There was a strong smell of prawns when she got into the house, closing the door behind her.

Inside the kitchen was a woman not too older than Beth, wearing a maroon dress, and Beth could see much of the skin of her legs. She was cooking stir fry at the snazzy cooker. “Oh, Hi there you must be Beth,” she said and there were three big smacking kisses on her cheeks. “I hope you’re in to Chinese food?” Beth said yes.

All four of them sat down at the table. Connor rubbed his beard, the bristles of which were mostly grey. Mickey fidgeted next to Beth. They’d been in the flat for maybe twelve minutes and he hadn’t looked at or spoken to her for any of those.

“So, Beth,” Connor said, “you’re still a student?”

She said that yes, she was. She studied psychology and was in her fourth year. Which university? He asked. She told him. What did she hope to do after graduation? She said she wanted to go into applied psychology, maybe. What degree was she sitting on – a First? She answered she hoped to get a 2:1. He asked her whether she had experience in clinics or hospitals? She didn’t, directly; but if she got her degree she was considering a Masters degree. What made her want to do applied psychology in the first place? Beth liked helping people.

“Hmm,” Conner said. He rubbed his bristles. And drank some more of his red wine. Neither Mickey or Connor’s partner had spoken yet. “So what about your hobbies, then, Beth?”

Oh, she said, she did like painting. It was a silly little hobby and she didn’t think she was that good. What kind of painting? She did watercolours. Well, she tried. Haha. Why watercolours? Ah – she used to use oils when she was a kid but she thought the finer textures of watercolours suited her style more. What was her style? Well she didn’t know she had one but her works were mostly pencil and watercolour – of landscapes. What kind of landscapes? She liked to paint bridges and river scenes in general, rivers running through cities.

“I’ve always loved the Danube. Have you ever been there, Connor?”

“Been where?”

“To the Danube.”

“The Danube runs through ten countries, honey. You’ll have to tell me which one.”

Everybody laughed. Except Beth, who blushed, and responded,

“Well I’ve been to Budapest and Bratislava and they were both fab.”

“Ah, yes. Have been all across Europe. In all of those ten countries, actually. Can you name them all?”

She guessed about half of them.

“Mickey and I were thinking about going to Vienna, actually,” Beth tried, turning to her boyfriend. “Weren’t we? In the summer.”

“Ehh,” Mickey muttered, “could do.”

There followed a gap in the dialogue where Beth was aware of how loudly everybody else was eating, the food squelching in their jaws. And then Connor intervened,

“I’d like to open another bottle of wine if that’s fine with everybody else?”

Beth had eaten the least of her plate, of all of them; they were nearly all finished whereas she had half of her plate still to go.

She was never invited back to meet up with Mickey’s Dad. And never met the mother, either. And Beth and Mickey never went to Austria, even though he’d been keen on it a few weeks earlier. And Mickey broke up with Beth via Facebook – ten days after the dinner scene described above.

[simthorium]

Living alone was hard for Sabrina. She’d loved Alexander her entire life; she still did. And living away from her only son hurt like hell. But she knew she needed some time and space alone after weeks and weeks of nonstop fighting. She didn’t want this to be it for her relationship, or her family. She knew her son would take it hard, and he was. But she also knew that this was what was best for her.

Today was Ruben’s birthday, and he’d agreed to spend it with her in the small house she’d started renting a few blocks away. She was walking distance from Zarro Manor, yet this would be the first time Ruben came to visit. She didn’t blame him and she tried not to feel hurt, but it was hard not to be.

“Hey boo boo!” Sabrina said, overjoyed when she saw her baby walking up to the house. “Happy birthday!” “Don’t call me that,” Ruben muttered. “I’m not a child anymore.” “You are for the next few hours,” she joked, pulling him into a hug. Ruben relented for a moment, then pushed his mother away. “Then we better get this over with,” he said, walking into the house.

“Nice place,” Ruben said, plopping onto the couch. “Thanks,” said Sabrina. “I wanted it to look nice for you.” “Yeah, sure,” said Ruben, rubbing his nose.

“I’m making some rice pudding, if you’d like a bowl,” Sabrina said. “With Bolt running the Manor, I never really got a chance to try out any new recipes myself. So that’s been nice.” “Glad living away from your family has been nice for you,” Ruben said as he sat at the table. Sabrina bit back a retort and continued cooking.

She placed two bowls on the table and they began to eat in silence. Sabrina didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, she knew Ruben would just say something smarmy back to her. She didn’t like how this was going, didn’t like that this was the person Ruben was growing into. He used to be so vibrant and happy, and she hated that this whole predicament had soured him so much.

“Ok birthday boy, ready to grow up?” Sabrina asked as Ruben stood before his cake. “I made this cake special, just for you.” He nodded, unimpressed. As soon as Sabrina lit the candles, he blew them out; she knew he hadn’t made a birthday wish. Although it may have seemed silly, it made her very sad.

Ruben grew up into a teenager, looking very much like his father. His hair was long and he’d somehow grown a full beard in a very short time, but such is sim life. The two sat down on the couch together. “So,” Ruben began. “When are you and dad getting a divorce?”

“What?” Sabrina asked, incredulous. “We’re not getting a divorce, Ruben. We’re just spending some time apart until we--” “Divorce, right,” Ruben finished. “That’s not what I was going to say,” she said. “I know it’s hard to understand, but your dad and I are--” “What’s hard to understand is why you haven’t done it already,” Ruben said, cutting her off again. “You two hate each other, I get it. You make each other so miserable, you can’t even be in the same house. They have a thing for that, you know? It’s called divorce.”

“First of all, stop interrupting me,” Sabrina said sharply, standing up. “Second, it seems we need to set up a doctors appointment for you as you’re suddenly unable to hear. We are not getting a divorce, as I’ve said multiple times.” “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Ruben said, standing too.

“What is wrong with you, Ruben!?” Sabrina exclaimed. “I understand you’re upset about your father and me, and hurt that your grandma passed away. But this is over the top for you. This isn’t like you!” “How would you know what’s ‘like me’ or not?” Ruben scowled. “You don’t live with me. You don’t know me at all.”

“Alright, I’m done,” Sabrina said. “Thank you for coming to see me and celebrating your birthday here with me. I hope you have a great rest of your day, back at your own house.” “You’re kicking me out!?” Ruben yelled. “Seriously!?” “I will not be spoken to like that in my own home,” Sabrina said. “Not here or the Manor. I’m tired of this attitude, Ruben. You’re old enough to get it together now, aren’t you? Now, get out of my house.”

Ruben crossed his arms and scowled at his mother. On a deep level, he knew she was right. But he was so pissed off and so angry that she’d spoken to him like this and resorted to kicking him out, that he didn’t care. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

[megalony]

Sleepwalker

This is a small Chris Evans drabble I thought of, I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated and any Chris requests would be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie​​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​​​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​​​ @sj-thefan​​​ @omgitsearly​​​ @luckytrashgooprebel​​​ @scarsout​​​ @deaky-with-a-c​​​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​​​ @vousmemanqueez-blog​​​ @jonesyaddiction​​​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​​​ @saint-hardy​​​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​​​ @mrsalwayswritex​​​ @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​ @crazylittlethingg​​​ @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod​​​ @ceres27​​​ @thereisa8ella​​​ @qardasngan​​

Masterlist

Summary: Chris wakes up during the night to find (Y/n) sleepwalking again.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dad... dad!" An impatient sigh left Cole's lips before his hand gingerly reached out to grab his dad's shoulder. He didn't want to shake him awake or shout too loud and startle him, he had done that too many times and had gotten told off a few times for it.  But when he was tired, he was a deep sleeper.

Butterflies shot through his tummy as he slowly jiggled Chris' shoulder like he was gently ruffling the feather's on a bird's stomach.

Cole's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to look over his dad's features and admire them because he so often changed his hairstyle and his beard. When he was younger his dad never had a beard, then he started to grow one and had it often, then he shaved it again and then he had a moustache which Lia cry the first time she saw it.

Now Chris was back to a full beard which seemed to suit him better at the moment.

"Dad."

"Hmm? What?"

Relief hurtled through Cole like a shockwave and made a shiver run up his spine and tingle through his nerves. He didn't sound angry or annoyed, that made it easier for Cole to be able to talk to him now.

A tired, stretching groan left Chris' lips that felt unnaturally dry and chapped right now. His arm that was hanging over his head had gone numb and the weight on his chest made him wake up a little more when he realised that Lia was laid fully on top of him.

The darkness of the room told Chris that it was either very late into the night or very early into the morning and he was sure he hadn't been asleep for that long. When he looked at Cole standing beside the bed, he could barely keep his eyes open to look at him until he realised his son was fidgeting on the spot and his hand was still gripping his shoulder.

"What's up?" Chris knew his eldest son like the back of his hand, if he'd of had a nightmare he would have climbed in the bed already and burrowed under the covers. If he was sick or felt unwell he would be laid in his bed calling out for Chris to go to him, he didn't have any trouble getting to sleep anymore or staying asleep. The only times he usually woke Chris was if he wanted a drink or if Felix or Lia needed something.

Cole had a real fear of windows at night and mixed with his OCD meant that he would never go downstairs on his own for a drink or a snack. He needed Chris or (Y/n) to go down first, put the lights on and Cole couldn't look at the windows, the curtains or blinds had to be shut so he didn't catch a glimpse of some sort of figure in the window.

"Mum's in my room, she's doing it again."

Cole watched his dad's chest rumble with a deep ruffling noise before he was suddenly in action.

Chris laid Lia down next to him on the bed, relieved that she remained asleep since she normally woke the moment he tried to leave her even for a second.

His hand ruffled his hair and scratched the top of his head before he slipped his hand over his chest and under the covers, nodding to himself that he did have boxers on before he got out of bed. He was accustomed to sleeping naked quite a lot, despite knowing that at least one of the kids would get into the bed at some point in the night. Cole had told Chris off before when he got up and wasn't wearing anything, last time when Chris came out the bathroom naked Cole had shouted at him.

"You didn't touch her or try wake her did you?"

"No, you say not to."

Nodding, Chris patted Cole's shoulder before he jogged out of the room and headed down the hallway to Cole's room.

This hadn't happened in a while.

Reaching out for the switch, Chris put the light on and took a second to catch his bearings. (Y/n) was sat in the armchair in the corner of the room next to the window and for a second, Chris thought she had gone back to sleep but when he took a closer look at his wife, he could see she had her eyes open.

She hadn't been sleep-walking for over three months now.

The last time she did she had gone into Lia's room and kept opening and slamming shut the chest of drawers causing the three-year-old to scream thinking there was a ghost or a monster in her room.

"Why does mum do that?" Cole gently pushed himself into Chris' side, snuggling into him for a few seconds before he looked up at his tired dad. He could see a soft look in Chris' eyes when he stared at his wife, like an adoration as if she were doing something so sweet instead of sitting upright in her sleep-induced state.

"It's just something that happens, bud. Sometimes if she's stressed or worried but it's not a bad thing."

Chris ruffled Cole's hazel brown hair before he pointed for him to go sit on the bed out the way so that he could get (Y/n) back in their room.

"Sweetheart, come on let's go back to bed."

Chris bent down in front of the chair, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he slowly reached out to hold (Y/n)'s elbows and help her stand up. He didn't want to wake her up and scare her but he couldn't let her just sit here and fall asleep or wait until she naturally woke up.

He was relieved when she got up and let him walk her slowly out of Cole's bedroom. (Y/n)'s sleepwalking episodes were infrequent and not often which was a relief but when they did happen Chris had to try and get her back to bed. It was relatively easy and harmless, (Y/n) didn't try and do anything like clean or talk or go outside or anything complex. She usually wandered round, maybe opened a few cupboards and usually got herself back to bed.

Only odd times Chris knew she was sleepwalking because she had a nightmare, when that happened she started to mumble things that didn't make sense so he just got her back to bed and waited with her until she went back to sleep

He smiled tiredly in Cole's direction, silently telling him to wait there as he walked (Y/n) down the hall back towards their room. But just before they got inside, Chris stopped when (Y/n) started to talk.

"No, why, don't do that." Her voice was quiet and gritty and her eyes were half-lidded, staring into space as she swayed a little.

"Back to bed, sweetheart."

His words didn't do anything of course, but Chris jumped in his skin when (Y/n)'s hands jerked from her sides and moved to clutch at her neck. The action made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat because he didn't know what was going through her mind. She was having some kind of nightmare and because she was sleepwalking she was acting it out.

"No- baby, you're with me and we're off to bed." Chris grabbed her hands, trying to make sure she wasn't going to hurt herself by scratching or holding her throat too tightly.

His eyes darted to look for Cole when (Y/n) screamed, he didn't want Cole to watch this because he'd only seen (Y/n) wandering before, he'd never seen her talk or get frustrated in her sleep like this.

"Go to your room please- baby no- Cole she's dreaming go to your room!"

Chris tightened his arms around (Y/n)'s frame and held her to his chest, struggling to stop her from writhing around but when he tightened his arms, he watched her eyes snap closed. He could tell by the way she stopped jerking and how her head fell onto his shoulder that he had either woken her up or she had gone back into a sleeping state.

She couldn't breathe, her throat was constricted, her lungs were trying to burst open in her chest due to the lack of air they had making them burn. Her body was on fire and her throat was sore and dry like sandpaper. Her skin was burning hot to the touch and she could feel tears sticking to her skin making it feel tight.

(Y/n) could feel her body shaking and when she tried to look around, she just felt dizzy, as if she wasn't really here or even awake. Her knees bent when her legs crumbled beneath her before she felt herself become cased into a strong chest that she would recognise anywhere. She could feel Chris holding her up and then suddenly she was in his arms and his lips were pressed to her temple, whispering calming words against her skin.

"Just a dream, sweetheart, you're okay. Let's go back to bed."

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

An Eye for an Eye

Chapter Seventeen of The One Condition Series | Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.1 k

Summary: Pretty thing finally confronts Alden.

TW: Mentions and depictions of drugs and drug use, toxic sibling relationship, resurfacing trauma, violence, and handcuffs

Notes: Hi everyone !! What's funny to me is I started writing this whole story based on a day dream I had. I didn't know Alden's name at the time, I had no idea how I would make the reader and Din meet, and I had absolutely no clue that it would take me this long to finally get to the idea that birthed this story in the first place! Thank you to everyone who has been a part of this journey!!

*The eighteenth chapter will be the last chapter for the series*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Who wants to know?”

It’s now or never. You move to step closer to Alden, but a tug of your hand has you looking back. You can see your reflection in his helmet. Your eyes look tired and that faux smile you’re wearing couldn’t fool anyone. A small shake of your head has him losing his grip on you. You squeeze back before letting it fall, to let him know it's alright, and continue walking forward. 

“I do. The girl you left bleeding out on the floor ten years ago.”

You’re close enough to see him now, like really see him. His hair has grown shaggy and unkempt. His brows sit lower on his face than you remember. They almost drag his eyes down with their weight. The only thing holding them up are dark pools produced by presumably sleepless nights. His nose looks red and raw. Maker, you can smell the spice on him even at this distance. The beard he is attempting to grow is coming in in uneven patches. His lips have no color and his skin looks like it hasn’t ever seen the sun. His cheeks are hollow and protrude in an unnatural way. There is no warmth radiating from him. No soul to be found. An animated corpse. When you step under the light you think you see recognition flash across his face and soften his harsh features, but it's gone before you can tell if it was real. 

“Little sis finally left Eadu, huh?,” He takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground. “Although I am shocked to see you here of all places. What's with the family reunion?”

“This isn’t a ‘family reunion’ Alden.”

“No, I guess not. If it was, that dude in the silver suit wouldn’t be here. Who is that?” 

Your blood boils at his tone. It’s so jovial as if the two of you really were catching up and reminiscing about old times. 

“He’s a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter that I enlisted the help of to track you down.”

Alden rolls his sleeves up to reveal fresh needle marks in his veins. You feel the heart of your past teenage self break all over again like when you first found the spice in his room. When you first started noticing your brother morph into a stranger living right down the hall from you. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side.

“To track me down? And what exactly did you think was going to happen when you found me?”

“I want some fucking answers, Alden.” 

“Answers?”

“Yes. I want to know why. Why did you do what you did to mom and dad? Why did you leave me?,” you can feel your voice start to quiver. “Why didn’t you let me-let me help you?”

“Why didn’t I let you help me?,” he says your name and puts his hands behind his head. “Maker, that was always your issue. You always wanted to help me. Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t fucking want help?! Huh?”

“Oh so you liked getting so high that you couldn’t even remember what your own name was? You liked that your sixteen-year-old sister had to drag your unconscious body into the shower and spray water on you to wake you up every other night?”

“Shut up.”

His remark only makes you grow louder. “You liked that our parents had to watch their son wither away into a husk of who they once knew and loved?”

“I said shut up!”

You see, out of the corner of your eye, Din steps towards you when Alden raises his voice. You know that he knows that this is something you wanted to handle, but you appreciate that he’s ready if anything goes south. 

“No. You have spent ten years running from what you did. I’m not going to give you that privilege anymore. You might not fucking care, but I do.”

He drops his hands and his shoulders sag down with them. He starts walking towards the door, but doesn’t end up opening it. Instead he just slides down and holds his head in his hands. You’re hesitant at first, but decide to walk over to him and kneel down beside him.

“Alden,” you whisper. “What happened?”

“Once I-once I got my first taste I was hooked. Nothing ever made me feel the way that spice did, but it got so fucking expensive. When Sonia- when mom- wouldn’t give me anymore money, I don’t know, I just lost it. She couldn’t do that, man.”

You’re trying to keep your composure, Maker knows he doesn’t deserve it, but you’re trying. It’s hard when you keep replaying the sound the blaster made when your mom was killed. It’s especially hard when the man that was on the other end of the blaster is sitting right in front of you.

“She couldn’t just give me money and then take it away like that. I tried to reason with her, but Bumi walked in and put his fucking foot down. Said that I was ‘cut off’. So I did the only thing I could think of: get high.”

“You didn’t have to kill them, Alden.”

“You don’t understand! I was out of money and I had just used the last of my spice. I knew Bumi had that stupid wooden box full of credits; that’s all I wanted,” he lifts his head up and looks at you. “But they wouldn’t fucking give it to me.”

Even when you’re looking directly in his eyes, you can see that there is nothing there. He’s just going in circles. He’s trying to justify what he did by using their actions against them. The actions they took to try to help him. You stand up and take a step back.

“But you didn’t have to kill them, Alden.”

“In the end it doesn't even matter because I never got the money.” He rests his hands on his knees.

“It doesn’t even matter? It doesn’t even fucking matter? Is that why you’re shooting random shit into your veins? Because it doesn’t matter?!”

“It’s the only time that I can’t see their faces looking back at me when I close my eyes!”

“Wha-?”

“When I’m high I don’t have to think about what I did.”

“You. Don’t. Get. That. Privilege.” you spit. “I can’t just forget about it. I have to live with what you did every single fucking day, Alden. You left me with a permanent fucking reminder!”

“I know. I know I did.”

You can feel yourself starting to ramble. You have waited ten years to let this out and you’re not going to stop now. 

“They loved you! I loved you! And you threw that away!”

“I couldn’t help it! I was too far gone and I couldn’t stop. You know what,” he stands up and you take a step back. “I have lived with the guilt for too long. An eye for an eye.”

You can feel Din standing directly behind you now. He must have gotten anxious when Alden stood up again. You back up until you connect with his chest and feel his hand come to rest on your shoulder.

“An eye for an eye,” Alden says again. “You hired a bounty hunter for fucks sake! Just do what you came here to do.”

For the first time since you arrived on Daiyu, your head feels clear. You close your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. When you open them again, you know what you want to do. No turning back. You’re done running from nightmares.

“An eye for an eye would make me just like you. I really spent months traveling through hyperspace with the sole intention of killing you. I thought that would end the pain, but it won’t. Nothing you do or say will fix it. I’m tired of getting eaten alive by the hate I have been harboring for you, Alden. I don’t want to get burnt out by all of my anger.”

You feel Din squeeze your shoulder as you heid his earlier warning.

“You don’t get to drag me down to your level. So I’m going to do exactly what you did for me that night.”

“And what did I do?”

“Nothing. You did nothing for me that night. That’s what you deserve from me. Absolutely nothing.”

You look up at Din and smile a sad, but genuine smile. “Let’s go home. I’m done here.”

“You’re done?!,” Alden’s eyes are wild. “You came all this way and you’re going to pussy out now? Just fucking do it! Release me!”

He lunges forward at you, but Din is quicker. He turns your body so that your back is to your brother and so you don’t see him connect his fist with Alden’s jaw. You still hear the bone chilling crack and his pathetic cries when he hits the ground. You try to turn around to see, but a gloved hand just holds your head in place. You don’t try again and just let him cradle you. 

“If you’re smart you’ll stay down. If it were up to me, you would have been dead a long time ago. What you did is unforgivable and I hope to The Maker that you answer for it in the next life, but it also led her to me. She means more to me than you will ever know.”

Before Alden even has a chance to answer him, Din scoops you up and starts walking down the alley to get to the front of the building. He keeps your head down and close to his chest and you let him. You don’t let the fact that Alden never once apologized bother you. You just hold onto Din’s words and let them wash away the hate in your heart. You don’t have room for it anymore. 

Perhaps it's the light swaying of your body in his arms or your body giving out from pure exhaustion due to your interaction, but you fall asleep before you make it to the front of the lab. You don’t have any nightmares. You don’t even have any dreams. You just sleep and for the first time, the darkness that surrounds you is as comforting as an old friend. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You stir from sleep when you hear the creaking of the ramp opening and then when it connects with the floor. Before you even open your eyes you can smell him. Faint notes of pine and his natural musk temp you to drift off again. Your cheek is resting on the fabric of his cape that wraps around his neck. It's not the most comfortable piece of cloth in the world; it's actually rather scratchy. Regardless you nuzzle your head deeper into it and let out a dreamy sigh. 

“She wakes.”

Even with the knowledge of you being awake, he doesn’t make a move to set you on your feet. You feel a twinge of guilt at the fact that he carried you all the way from the lab to The Crest. That was no leisurely walk. However, it fizzles out because you know that Din never does anything he doesn’t want to do. His stubbornness falls second to his softness when it comes to you. For once in your life, you allow someone to take care of you. You have spent your entire life giving yourself to others and holding their pain so they could have a fraction of peace. And while you did all of this without expectation of reciprocation, you secretly yearned for it. 

The whole walk back from the lab, Din’s mind couldn’t be calmed. As soon as he noticed that you had passed out, he had half a mind to permanently remove Alden from both your life and the planet's surface. Although he would never admit it, he even stopped and contemplated going through with it. The more he thought, the heavier the blaster on his hip grew. What ultimately swayed him was having to look into your eyes everyday and lie. Killing Alden would have been as easy and natural as taking a breath, but lying to you was a challenge he knew he would fail. He told you that it was your hunt and that you should call the shots. By killing Alden, he would be undermining your call to let him live. Even if he was secretly hoping you would have allowed him to remove that virus of a person from the universe. You chose what was true to you and he accepted it. 

Listening to you yell at and plead with your brother for answers was one of the hardest things he has ever had to do. He can usually fight or buy his way out of any scenario, but not this. He had to watch one of the most precious things in his world struggle right in front of him. He was pushing his fist so hard into the side of the metal building that it left a dent. His heart skipped a beat when Alden raised his voice at you. Before he even realized what was happening, his feet had carried him a few steps forward. You looked back at him and his shoulders relaxed, but just slightly. Although when Alden stood up from the ground and walked toward you, he wasn’t able to stop himself that time. He had to let you know that you weren’t alone and that he was there. Thank The Maker he did too. If you had gotten hurt by your brother again and he wasn’t able to stop it this time…he can’t even begin to imagine the carnage he would have wreaked. There wouldn’t have been a place Alden could have gone too where he wouldn’t have followed and found him. 

Another thought rears its ugly head as he continues walking with your sleeping body through the Daiyu streets: what happens now? Your mission has been completed. He has helped you find Alden. That’s what you hired him to do after all. What would you do once this knowledge sinks in for you too? The knowledge that you technically no longer have a reason to stay with him. Would you ask him to take you back to Navarro? Or maybe back to Eadu so you can live in isolation for the rest of your life? He can feel his skin crawl at the thought of the hull being so silent. It would no longer be filled with things he didn’t realize he couldn’t live without. The sounds of your laughter and your bare feet padding around against the cool floor of the ship. The smell of you and your soap on his sheets long after you have left them. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin in the darkness and the warmth your body exudes when he holds you closely. 

You crack your eyes and see him stroll past your hidden bed and right to his own. Even after carrying you for over an hour, he is gentle and slow when he lays you down on the cot. You hear him clamoring around in the pantry to make something for the hungry child. A smile worms its way across your face as you hear the two of them talking back and forth with each other. This is home. It isn’t Eadu you laugh to yourself. No it definitely isn’t Eadu. There were no windows to let the sunlight and fresh air in, no abundance of land or greenery, and no fresh produce.

Eadu isn’t who you are anymore however. Now your one window lets in the light of thousands of beaming stars. The small space of the ship makes you feel comforted and allows you to never forget that you're not alone anymore. The food, while you would still prefer it fresh, is made with and for people you care about. There wasn’t a place in the galaxy you would rather be than here. 

By the time Din returns to you, you have made your way under his covers and wrapped yourself up. You sit up when you see him leaning against the doorframe and looking at you.

“What?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“You-you are?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t mad that I didn’t let you do what I hired you for?” You ask genuinely.

You hear him laugh under his helmet and move to sit down on the edge of the bed. You wriggle your way out of the cocoon you created for yourself and scoot up next to him. He places his hand on the inside of your thigh and rubs you with his thumb.

“I told you that it was your call and you were in control of what happened,” he looks up from your thigh and peers over at the kid playing with his silver ball on the floor. “I did get to knock him on his ass. How could I be mad at that?”

“Oh! Your credits! Let me get those for you.”

You make a move to get up to go get them, but Din keeps his hand firmly on your leg. 

“We can take care of that later. I know you’re good for the money. Plus, I know where you live.” You can feel him winking at you under his beskar. 

If you’re being honest you really didn’t want to give the credits to him. Not because you didn’t want to pay him, but because when you did, all of this would end. You aren’t ready to give this up. To give him up. 

“What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Maker, you always have the most random things on your mind.”

“I’m serious,” you swat at his arm. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“You.” He says in a hushed voice. 

Your mouth hangs slightly agape while you feel your cheeks burn. 

“I told you I was being serious!”

“I was. You asked and I answered seriously.” His hands are up in a defensive position. 

“Then let me rephrase. What is your favorite thing to eat from childhood?”

“You’re no fun.”

You stick out your tongue at him and patiently wait for him to answer. 

“Probably…tiingilar.”

“Tiingilar? What’s that?”

“It’s a traditional stew made on Mandalore,” his voice sounds bitter sweet as he talks about his adoptive planet. “It’s made of a blend of various meats, vegetables, grains and spices.”

“That sounds so fucking good.”

“Oh it was. Eating it was a challenge in and out of itself though.” 

You give him a quizzical look. 

“Well, like I said it had a lot of spices in it. So naturally, it had the potential to have an almost deadly heat. In fact,” he stops mid sentence to laugh. “If it was a particularly good batch, it could singe your nose hairs right off.” 

You protectively put your hands over your nose. “Why would you eat something that could cause you physical pain? Are you insane?!”

“It was a fun game to play. The more heat you could withstand, the stronger Mandalorian you were. It was known to sweat even the toughest of us right out of our beskar.” 

You listen to him ramble on about the stew and how he actually ended up sick for a few days because of one batch's spice level. You unconsciously lean in the more he talks about Mandalore. Your heart flutters when you hear how excited he is by the volume of his voice. He rarely speaks of where he spent his childhood. You’re careful not to say anything so you won’t snap him out of his expository. In truth, you wanted to know what his favorite meal is so you can recreate it for him. Paying him with just the credits almost feels like a disservice to what he has done for you. Honestly, you don’t think you could ever repay him, but a home cooked meal seems like a good place to start. A plan and mental grocery list starts forming in your brain.

When he reaches the end of his stories you place your hand on his and thank him for sharing all of that with you. Before you side out of bed to take care of the child, you place a kiss on his helmet. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“I think he’s asleep,” You whisper as you walk over to Din. “I’m honestly surprised he went down as easily as he did given that he slept through the entirety of Daiyu.”

Din is currently unloading the arsenal of weapons he carries on himself into the armory. You stand quietly next to him and watch as his rifle and each blaster and bomb finds its designated spot on the wall. Your eyes travel from one gun to the other and freeze when they land on a tool that you have only seen used once. Din must have noticed your body tense.

“What’s wrong?”

Embarrassment and unexpected arousal flood your body as your eyes continue to stay locked on the handcuffs he has hanging up. He follows your eye line and stiffens himself, in more ways than one. A strangled noise comes through his modulator.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, but you don’t have too, pretty thing. I can see it in your eyes.”

You turn to see that his gaze is locked on you now. Your stomach churns as fantasies play out rapidly in your mind. 

“Well…what are you going to do about it?”

You watch as he rips the cuffs off the wall without even turning to look at them. He wraps his hand around your back and pulls you into him. 

“I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

The next thing you know, the two of you are scrambling to take off what you’re wearing. Armor is clattering to the ground, shirts and pants are flying off in various directions. When you naturally finish undressing first, you watch in awe as his body is revealed to you. You have seen it multiple times and felt it more than you can count on two hands, but it never gets old. His skin always looks warmed by the sun. His stomach is slightly round with an ever intriguing trail of hair under his naval. As he removes his pants your eyes trail down to take in his V. Maker, you want him so bad your mouth is watering. When his hands slowly go up to remove his helmet, you throw him a wink and cover your own with your band. 

You hear the thud of the helmet connecting with the ground in exchange for the pair of handcuffs. A shiver runs down your spine and your breathing picks up as you hear him walking towards you.

“Stand up.”

You do as you're told and hold yourself steady when your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. He grips your shoulder and spins you around so that your back is facing him now. 

“Give me your wrists, pretty thing.”

You obey again and move your arms to rest at the small of your back. A click is heard and then a strong hand takes your left wrist and places it inside the first cuff. He then does the same with your right. Once they are securely fastened behind you, you instinctively pull on it. 

“You’ll find that the only way you’re getting out of those is if I let you.” 

Still blinded, you turn your head and speak over your shoulder. “While it was fun to be in control, it’s a lot more fun to be at your mercy.” 

In response you are met with him grabbing your hips and his length sitting firmly between your ass. You can’t help but moan out at the sensation. 

“I’m going to go down on you until you’re dripping down my chin.”

He spins your body back around and sets you back down on the bed. You scoot yourself backwards with your legs until your head reaches the pillow. The bed moves beneath you as he finds his place in between your thighs. As you spread them for him, he let out a godless moan at what you have presented. His tongue finds its home in your folds and your back arches at his touch. Your mind and body feed off of his incoherent groans while he laps you up. His nose continuously hits your clit as you grind your body down into him. You strain against the cuffs behind your back as he devours you. Your fingers tingle with the need to bury themselves inside the curls of his hair. With each grunt and moan he releases you feel yourself drifting closer and closer to your orgasm.

Maker, he has thought about you cuffed and pulling against your restraints due to his tongue frequently…very frequently. He looks up at your naked body while you jerk before him. Your breasts glisten with sweat and they heave as you gulp down air. Your lower lip is caught in your teeth as you battle against his mouth with your body. The sounds escaping you are captivating. The ebb and flow the two of you have is otherworldly. 

“Right there fuck,” a moan cuts through your sentence. “Stay right there.”

Din heeds your command and continues his steady pace on your cunt. As you open your mouth to praise him again, your breath is stolen from you. Your orgasm slams into you hard and fast. All you can do is shakily rock your body onto Din’s now soaking face. It takes you a while to come down from your high as the man between your legs refuses to stop pleasuring you. Your oversensitive body flinches whenever his lips come up and circle your clit. Again your wrists twist around inside the cuffs that bound you. 

“You want to touch me so bad, don’t you?”

“So fucking bad.” You whine desperately. 

“You’re out of luck. I’m having my way with you now, Mesh'la.”

You feel him kissing his way up your body. You wish you could burn each and everyone of those kisses into your skin permanently. He travels up through the valley of your breasts, your collar bone, the side of your neck, and finally your lips. It’s a feeling well worth the wait. You wish, now more than ever, that you could hold the sides of his face. You want to feel that beard with your fingers and not just the inside of your thighs. 

You push your core up to meet him and you feel a smile curl on his lips. 

“Not so fast, pretty thing.”

“But I want you, Din.” 

“Fuck, you make it so hard to say no.”

“Then don’t.” You let your lips make their way down from his jaw to his neck. 

Before you know what’s happening he takes your head in his hands and kisses you. Your body burns for him. 

“Brace yourself.” He says panting as he pulls away from you.

“Wha-? Ahh!”

He flips you so that now you’re laying on your stomach and the side of your face is resting on your pillow. You quickly catch on and prop your knees up underneath you. Your ass is now on display in front of him and your latched hands rests atop it. A few drops of sweat tickle your back as they slide down due to your new position. You feel a calloused hand grip your ass; a sensation that makes your eyelids flutter behind the band. His other hand grabs your joined wrists and uses them to keep himself steady. He slides himself inside your cunt in one go before bottoming out. You cry out in both surprise and pleasure. 

You can still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size as he begins thrusting into you at an anchored pace. Each time he hits your sweet spot, stars erupt behind your cover eyes. He works at you mercilessly and all you can do is whine in appreciation. You hold your body in place as best as you can. Even though, with each pound he delivers to you, your bones threaten to turn to jelly. He feeds your internal fire by whispering honeyed words. You tell yourself to hold on so you can feel and listen to him longer, but it's too hard. His voice tips you over the edge and you plunge into your pleasure. 

He talks you through your orgasm, while keeping a languid pace. As clarity returns to you, so does the desire to make him cum. Without warning you begin to thrust your body back to meet his. He must not have expected your tired body to suddenly pick up speed because his hands dig into the skin of your ass. You hear him curse behind you and a whimper slips out.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He growls. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you say panting. “I’m yours, Din.” 

Your verbal confirmation is all he needs before he's spilling deep inside you. You reward him with a moan of satisfaction as you feel it beginning to leak out of you. As he pulls out, your body slumps down into the cot, hands still bound behind your back. You’re too dazed to realize that he left to go get you a towel and the key for the cuffs. When he returns, he gently works the cuffs open and frees you one wrist at a time. You turn over on your back and groan out slightly in pain. Both you and Din constantly pulling at your restraints has made your wrists and shoulders ache. As you rub on your sore joints, Din diligently cleans you up. He makes sure to kiss you in between each swipe of the towel. 

After all is said and done, the two of you lay intertwined together. Din apologized when he realized that your shoulders were hurting. He had been scared that he had gotten too rough with you. 

“Occupational hazard.” You said to him sweetly. “I would have told you to stop if I didn’t enjoy it.”

It takes you a while to convince him that you really are alright, but eventually he comes around. The silence between you two is peaceful, yet there seems to be an unspoken issue in the air. You can feel it and you are sure that Din can too. You’re just about to make a comment when he beats you to it.

“Would you-would you like to come back to Navarro with me? Until you figure out what you want to do?”

“Of course I would. Getting rid of me isn’t that easy.”The truth was, you had figured out what you wanted to do. You just weren’t sure how to ask for it.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —