#the idea that someone would spot a sign of depression and their immediate thought is that THEIR day is ruined

[sideprince]

Yeah, this is a 6th year potions textbook which would mean he was probably 16 when he modified it. This can also be read as Snape having the capacity for joy, because he had to understand it in order to enhance it through potion ingredients. Alternately it can also be read as nothing more than a thorough understanding of chemistry and the way ingredients interact. Depression takes many forms, such as apathy or like pet-genius said, masking. Even if the implication here is that Snape was depressed and therefore put more effort into improving an elixir for euphoria than he did some other potions, that's an act of admirable initiative and shows an active effort to improve his life and climb out of a dark place. Your day is ruined? That sounds like a you problem, tbh. Is it a surprise that a character who's abused at home and bullied at school potentially struggles with depression? Or are you just looking for excuses in the text to project pity onto them? Maybe ask yourself why depression elicits pity in you instead of sympathy or empathy or appreciation for the ability to struggle with mental illness?

I think it's also important to remember that Snape is a fictional character, not a real person - specifically because it means he was written by an author who has faults and shortcomings of her own and may not be representing mental illness in realistic, researched ways. Even if she experienced depression and abuse firsthand, there are innumerable factors that make it difficult to transpose that onto a character like Snape. Depression as the result of life factors isn't the same as clinical depression, but the two often seem to be unintentionally equated. Abuse is horrific in any context, but is also complex and different when it's perpetrated by a spouse than by a parent (we often choose our spouses as fully formed adults, but our parents establish our sense of trust and reliance from a young age, etc.). Being a woman in a patriarchal society has different drawbacks and difficulties than being a neurodivergent male in the same society - both have their challenges but that doesn't mean the experiences are transposable. So when Rowling as an author writes a character like Snape and projects her own experiences onto him, it's not necessarily representative of how a man - or boy - with similar experiences and mental health issues would experience them.

And as long as we're talking about characters written by authors with faults, Rowling wrote Snape based on a real person who was autistic, and for a whole plethora of reasons I don't trust Rowling to adequately understand, let alone portray autism and any valid representation is down to her skills of observation, not research or insight. Rowling has shown herself time and again to be problematically bigoted, biased, and selective about who deserves her sympathy, and that's by far the kindest way I can sum her up. So the whole "uwu Snape was so depressed" reading really doesn't sit well with me, because I find it problematic to treat a literary character as accurately representative of mental illness or neurodiversity when the author who wrote him doesn't seem to be informed enough about either, let alone when mental illnesses like depression are noted with the specific goal of pitying the character and living out a desire to be dramatic and heartbroken through their projected suffering.

severus who was so depressed he heavily modified the elixir to induce euphoria at age 14…day ruined thank you

[urfavluvergirl]

I've owed you this - all of the girls you loved before au

AU masterlist - you can find other stuff under #🪼opheliajones

After another rough day at school Ophelia goes to the esplanade to sit and think alone. Wondering the reason why Ophelia is gone every night, Ryan follows her.

✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩ 

Almost there! I wrote this when I was having a really bad day myself so forgive me if it's crazyyy sad.

wc: 1.6k

things to look out for: swearing, mentions of an abusive parent, hitting, verbal abuse, self deprecation (if you squint), depression, small hint to suicide, kissing

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

The wind ruffled her hair softly, as Ophelia closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing.

She’d had more good days than bad, thankfully, but there was always one day where her father’s words would echo in her head a little too much. A tightness in her chest that she just couldn’t shake no matter how many fun things she did. She hated the way that even after almost 5 years he still had such a presence. 

The wind picked up again. It was mid October now, so the air held a harsh bite to it that almost stung.

It was calming, and she was alone, meaning whatever emotions came out could just be free. If she cried–she cried, if he just sat there and stared, then that’s what she did for the night. It was one of the only times she could actually express her emotions, and not in a college dorm where anyone could hear her.

And yeah, maybe being in Boston well past 9 pm all alone wasn’t a good idea, but she didn’t even care—maybe that was also a bad sign.

She wasn’t depressed…just haunted.

Haunted by the memories of her childhood that would come up randomly on some days and echo in her mind on bad days.

This place had been her safe space for the past couple of months, and she had hid it pretty well.

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

Ryan wasn’t stupid.

Or at least, he thought he wasn’t stupid. 

And he tried to not be a stalker either, but every night Ophelia’s location was pointing to one spot for hours at a time. 

He thought nothing of it at first, maybe Ophelia was meeting up with her friends who also went to college in Boston, but after a quick text from an also equally concerned Luna–

Luna

Hey, are you and Ophelia at the esplanade right now?

Ryan

no…I thought you and Nathan were there with her?

Luna

Nathan’s sitting next to me in my dorm right now…

So she’s alone?

Ryan

Oh fuck, I’ll go check on her

So he did what any normal student at BC did without a car, he took the green line to Copley and took a 24 minute walk to get to her. 

In hindsight he probably should’ve waited until she got back to campus, like Drew said–who looked at him weirdly as he threw a hoodie on.

But that really didn’t matter to him anymore as he got to the esplanade. 

Because that was love—at least what he concluded. Going out in almost the middle of the night, in cold weather to check on someone who might send him back the way he came almost immediately, and he would do it all again if he had to.

He walked along the sidewalk, shoving his hands in his pockets to help with the freezing cold that made the tips of his ears numb. How the hell could she be out here for hours on end?

He paused slightly when he saw her, probably because she was one of the only people still out there, but he also liked to think that he knew her well enough to pick her out in a crowd out of hundreds of people.

She seemed to be paying more attention to the cityscape of Cambridge and MIT than hearing Ryan’s footsteps approaching, so much so that she didn’t even look up at him when he stopped right next to her.

“MIT can’t be that interesting.” Ryan spoke, and Ophelia jumped back and looked up at him.

“Oh..uh, I don’t know–it’s um… pretty I guess.” She stuttered.

Ryan sighed and looked back up towards the water. Yeah, it did look pretty, but that was obviously not the reason she was out here.

“Huh, well I guess you’re right.” He said. “Scoot over.”

Ophelia blinked up at him.

“Kicking me out already?” Ryan mused.

“Uh, n-no–sorry.” She muttered before moving over to make a space for him.

Ryan laughed and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around the backside of the bench. Ophelia tried to ignore the blush on her face.

“You had us worried about what you were up to.” He said, voice becoming more serious. “Or what other people would be up to.”

Ophelia turned to look at him. He looked really good, even under the streetlamp that casted a downward harsh light onto him. His hair was a little messy, probably from the wind, his freckles were still so apparent, as it was only October and summer wasn’t that far behind them. His eyes were so blue, and it quickly became one of Ophelia’s favorite colors as they became closer again.

“Us?”

“Luna talked to me and I’ve been observing your location for a couple of weeks, just making sure you’re safe.” He explained. “Both of us were assuming you were at least with somebody.”

Ophelia looked back at the water.

“Wanna tell me why you’re here every single day?” He asked. 

“Just…thinking.” She lied, which she then pinched herself for as yet another lie was added to the imaginary jar of them.

“Thinking.” He repeated to himself, almost to savor the word. “Have a lot to think about?”

“More than you’d ever know…” Ophelia responded, her eyes finding the skyline again.

Ryans eyebrows furrowed, he turned towards her a bit more.

“Well maybe I can help you–” Ryan started. “Think.”

Ophelia sighed, closing her eyes as the wind picked up again.

“It’s just…you look so tired.” Ryan said cautiously, scared to strike a nerve. “I’m worried.”

“I don’t sleep anymore.” Ophelia whispered. “I’m–I’m so tired all the time and when I go to sleep I just can’t stop…thinking.”

“I can help you y’know?” Ryan stated. “You can tell me anything.”

You can tell me anything.

How could she? Tell him that she’d been lying to him ever since they met, basically saying that she didn’t trust him? That wasn’t the reason, but she couldn’t make him think what she wanted him to.

“Seriously Phia, I won’t judge you.” He soothed.

Ophelia just kept her eyes on the water. 

There was a short pause between the two of them. Ryan was almost worried she was going to say nothing or kick him out. 

“I’ve never been able to sleep.” She started, and Ryan opened his mouth to respond but it felt like her floodgates were finally opening.

“Remember how you said you called me dad a lot when I first moved?” She asked, and she still wasn’t looking at him.

“Yeah..” Ryan was starting to get a little scared.

“I–I lied to you.” She said, and the shame in her voice made his mouth taste a little strange.

She stayed silent.

“And…believe me–I know I shouldn’t have, and it keeps me up a lot knowing that I did.” She rushed out.

“Why–Why would you lie?” And he wasn’t mad, he was just confused. What happened between them in the last ten years?

“The truth is, he’s…he’s not in my life anymore…well at least I don’t think he is. He left when I was 14 and he was– is quite literally an awful person. He used to hit me and my mother and said these…these things. And I can’t help but think it was all my fault. My mom was heartbroken and I just wonder if I didn’t exist–” 

Ryan cut her off there.

“No. No it is not your fault. Nothing about your dad being a shitty person is ever your fault. And I’m sorry too, I should’ve looked out for the signs more when we were kids.” Ryan rushed, the guilt flooding him that maybe if he had looked a little harder, he could’ve saved her.

“We were eight, Ry! How could you tell?” She silenced him. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Is that why you come out here…to just think about him?” Ryan questioned.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to not.” Ophelia said sadly. “His words and his actions echo in my head, and I have nightmares, or can’t sleep.”

“So you come out here to think in peace?” Ryan finished.

Ophelia looked up at him and nodded slowly, trying to blink away the tears.

Ryan gave her a sad look, wrapped the arm that was around her and pulled her closer. Ophelia allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace.

“You don’t have to hide these things from me, I can help you with this stuff.” Ryan mumbled against her head.

Ophelia nodded against him.

And against his better judgment–or before he could even think– he leaned down and pressed his lips against her forehead in a lingering kiss.

She tensed at first, and Ryan’s heart rate probably spiked up in panic, but then she relaxed into it and he pulled away.

“Come on,” He said, trying to mask his wavering voice. “We should get home.”

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

He walked her back to his dorm like he always did, except she asked him to go in with her. And then he followed her inside of her dorm as well.

He sat in her dorm while she went to the bathroom to change, and then he was about to leave, it was about 1 in the morning, but it didn’t feel like it.

“Stay?” Ophelia mumbled, grabbing his arm to stop him. “If you want to–like old times?”

Ryan smiled, but not without his heart skipping a beat and letting her drag him down to the bed. Laying down, he opened up his arms and she giggled, turning out the lights and cuddling up to him. 

“I’ve missed holding you.” Ryan mumbled against her head. 

Ophelia hummed into him, “Missed it too.”

“Tired?” Ryan asked, hopeful.

“For once, yeah.”

“Sleep.” He whispered, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With that Ophelia slept, and when she woke up in the morning she smiled, because Ryan was there–still asleep–but right beside her the whole night.

And it was the first time she slept for a whole night comfortably in years.

[hwaowiiii]

Seonghwa

Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Tword

Warnings: angst, self doubts, tickles

“I’m not worth it…” you whispered. “I’m not worth anything”. Tears started coming from your eyes.

It has been one year now. One year since you last thought you were worth something. Then that one someone came in your life and simply destroyed you. And your life, your confidence, your self love.  You really thought he loved you. At least liked you.

He always made those signs. He has been so cute in private, he complimented you, he spent time with you. But in class, he was always so NOT nice… He treated you bad, he said bad things to you, he was just so DAMN shit.

And it has been one half year since he told you that he never had feelings for you. Everyone thought you had. But you yourself didn’t even know. But THEY knew. THEY talked with him about you, THEY told him you liked him. You have never told them. They just knew. Or not.

You then had six weeks without him. Until your best friend had the GREAT idea to invite both of you to his bday party.  (A/n: Not Seonghwa, I just needed a story and this it is …) He acted completely normal. Like there has never been something between you. But he knew that he had destroyed you.

And he had decided to continue. For the next year, you were supposed to see him and he acted all nice. Sometimes. Sometimes not. His little comments about your likings, your look, your clothes, your faces destroyed you each time. Every. Fucking. Single. Time.

You started to doubt yourself, not feeling good anymore, trying to save your face, wearing other clothes, changing your style, isolating yourself.

Then, a few weeks before Christmas Eve you got sick. Not that bad, but you infected your friend you lived with too. They got sick really bad. Back then you were the only one out of nine who wasn’t sick. You really did your best to care for them, to make them healthy again. But then you got sick again, when everyone else was healthy again. You had planned to travel around Korea when New Year’s Eve came and everybody looked forward to it. Including you. But because you were sick, your friends decided to NOT do it and staying at home instead. That just made your self-confidence worse.

They stayed home because of YOU. They didn’t live their dream because of YOU. They didn’t have fun because of YOU. You weren’t worth it. You had told them multiple times that they just should go without you, but they all wanted to stay with you.

What was one the one side SO CUTE and on the other it made you just feel worse because you were the reason that they stayed home. Because YOU brought that illness with you. You weren’t worth them. Those eight precious boys who’d rather be there for you and care for you than traveling around this wonderful country for two weeks.

But then Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho found out why you were that depressed and helped you. They gave you back your self-confidence, they helped you through this phase, they gave you attention and they loved you. They helped you slowly but safely out of this dark hole.

(A/n: true story … Only though that it wasn’t Korea but my grandparents whom I didn’t see for two years and my family whom I wanted to go with. But the rest is 100% true…)

“I am not worth their love” you whispered again. You were sitting in your room, staring at the wall for hours now. You were hiding in your room the whole room now, you only came out to eat and go pee. And it was already 4pm.

You wished someone would come in and just hug you, cheer you up by any way. And – surprise- Seonghwa guessed that something was wrong with you and so he decided to go and cheer you up a bit.

Hwa entered your room and immediately spotted you on your bed. He sat down next to you and pulled you in his lap. “Hey cutie, are you okay?” he asked with such a soft voice that your heart just melted. But a sudden Lee mood plopped in your brain and so you ignored him on purpose.

You just let your body fall over his legs so that you were laying across his lap. He then shakes you softly. “Hey… Jagi!” He shakes you softly, placing his hands at your arm. Precious boy’s mission was now making you laugh. He bent over you and first tried aegyo to make you smile, but you simply closed your eyes because it was TOO cute…

But he doesn’t give up that easily, he says random funny but not funny dad jokes what make you smile a bit bcz you can’t stand his cuteness. (o.o)

But you fastly hide your smile by covering your face with both hands, a blush appearing on your cheeks. But he already saw it.

“Aww c’mon show me that smile again!!!” he said and you hard his pout. He shakes you again, his hands accidently touching your side. Your smile came back very fast and you flinched a tiny bit. You stayed still right after that but he has realized too soon.

“Awwww are you ticklish?” Seonghwa asked, his voice sounding so happy. (>.<) You blushed harder but you ignored his question. Because you were too stubborn and your smile won’t just appear since your sadness has come again.

So Hwa just starts poking over your sides and tummy and ribs to find out. And godamit this pretty boy was fast >.< He poke all over your midsection faster than speed of light but still so soft that it wouldn’t hurt.

You just exploded in giggles, covering your happy smile with both of your hands, not even trying to stop Seonghwa. And he saw that you didn’t try to stop him and sensed that you needed this little cheer up.

So soft boy sneaked his hands under your shirt and scribbled over your soft, cute lil tummy. You let out cute, happy squeals, what made his smile widen automatically. He was proud and happy that he reached his goal and made you happy. And he loved the way you were happy with him.

But he also saw that you really needed this now. So he clawed over your sides, tummy and ribs, looking at you with eyes so full of love that if you would have seen it (your eyes were closed from the giggling and laughing) you would have started crying again.

You now start squirming and you laugh with full belly laugher now, making his giggle with you. As he came over your ribs, you squirmed a little more. And ofc he noticed (>.<) And precious Hwa explored your ribs now. He scribbled up and down, between, on your back and where your tummy and ribs met. He clawed over them, right under your ribs and over your upper ribs. You let put more squeals now, but still not trying to stop him. You only squirmed more since it was such a great but also unbearable feeling.

After like another five minutes he stopped, looking at you with the brightest smile. Just as yours. Your eyes were teary, your face red but you had the biggest, brightest smile on your lips. And it just made him happier.

But however he feels a bit sorry for this, the precious Park Seonghwa he is (>.<). He thought he had gone too far. So he waited until you had calmed down, wrapping his arms around you, pushing you in a sitting position. “I’m sorry Y/n… Have I been going too far?” he asked quietly. “No… No it’s all right Hwa. Thank you – I think I needed that now… I love you” you whispered the last part.

“I love you too-“he whispered and you two fell on the bed, hugging each other. Seonghwa was just too precious. He is so caring and loving >.<

After that you watched a random anime together while cuddling each other.

End ~

A/n: Soo this is my second fiction for the ‘how each Ateez member finds out/reacts to you being ticklish’. I still can’t believe 110+ people voted this time…. O.o

Anyways, I hope you like this …

It took me so long actually and I had an existence crisis while writing but anyways,

Love you guys <3 and thank you!

Taglist: @itzystopkiddingmenowloco @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday

[elfboyeros]

Silence

I am fully prepared (No I'm fucking not) for @jj-pines and @lerenee to use this fic against me.

Read about these nerds ➡️🎒Bridgehid Masterlist💀

“Love?”

She looks at him with a dejected gaze, wrapped in a security blanket of sorts, nothing like the little mage he knew. She’s wasting away.

“If there is anything I need to do, I’ll get to it later,” she muttered.

Sloan sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, “That’s not why I’m here,” he softly commented, “You’re worrying me, Percy, too.”’

“I’m rather good at that, worrying people.”

“I can’t imagine how you feel, let alone Calvin,” Sloan sighed.

Indigo was uncharacteristically silent at the mention of Calvin, yet her body shook, and her head hung low, “What’s wrong,” he asked.

“I think he hates me.”

“Calvin Corals, hating you of all people,” Sloan mused before shaking his head, “No I don’t believe that.”

“He hasn’t talked in two months,” Indigo replied, “What other reason would he have not to talk to me anymore.”

“Indigo—”

“Do you think I can make him love me again…”

Sloan sighed, “You truly believe he has fallen out of love with you that quickly?”

“I did nothing when I saw her!” Indigo lamented looking at her comatose daughter, “I am the reason she is like this, I did this to her. She is my daughter I am supposed to protect her and here she is, in a coma because of me.”

 “Indigo you’re not at fault—”

“I never knew that I would ever miss the sound of someone’s voice so much!” Indigo continued, “I don’t want anything right now but my daughter to wake up and for my husband to just talk to me!”

“You should go home,” Sloan murmured, “sitting here isn’t going to help you right now.”

Indigo hummed, getting up out of her seat and kissing her sleeping daughter’s forehead before leaving,  rather than fighting on the issue. Sloan also stood, spotting his husband and putting supplies in storage. The one-eyed alchemist then had an idea. Walking up behind Casper tapping his shoulder, taking ahold of his hands when the brownie attempted to greet him.

Bending down to be level with Casper’s ear, “Would like to hatch a little plot with me?” Sloan asked.

“Of course,” Casper whispered back, “I hatch plots with no one else, but you.”

Sloan chuckled before kissing Casper’s cheek, “Wonderful,” the alchemist sighed.

Casper knocked on the doorframe to Calvin’s office later that night, “What do you need Casper?” He asked, with a cruel tone and beyond tired.

“I need you to go home.” He signed.

“I’m fine—”

“Lying to me isn’t a good idea!” Casper replied with narrow eyes. “Go home, you need to sleep, and you need to spend some time with Indigo.”

“I—”

Casper pointed to the infirmary exit, “Fine,” Calvin huffed, “If anything happens with Aurora—”

“I will contact you immediately!” Casper signed, “Now go!”

Calvin sighed once more before leaving and heading home, checking on his sleeping twins, even though they were beyond the age of needing to be checked on during the night, it felt right to pier in on their sleeping figures.

Being back home finally made him realize how desperate he was for his own bed, shower, and even beyond just the familiar scent of home, that mix of eucalyptus and cedar that almost smelled like the rain.

He found Indigo in bed wrapped in their sheets in one of his shirts, sleeping away clutching at a pillow as if it were him. Tottering his way over to her, he kissed her cheek rubbing at her side, “Je suis désolée Je suis rentré si tard.” He muttered, before heading toward the bathroom.

“Calvin.”

Her voice made him freeze, and his heart stopped, she sounded so sad and scared. He had never heard so depressed before in his entire life, and he sure never thought he would ever hear her say his name in such a tone. He turned around and looked at her, she’s hollow, a shell, lip quivering at him. Her appearance makes him want to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close but his body forbids him from doing so, forbids him from opening his mouth, forbids him from speaking.

“Can we talk?” She croaked.

He stood ever frozen he continued to stare, “I know I am the last person you want to talk to right now—”

Oh, no, no no non, that’s so far from the truth.

“— but I can’t do this anymore! The silence so unbearable!”

“Indi—”

“It was one thing when you left and stayed in the infirmary, I hate not sleeping next to you, but I can deal with that, but I need to hear your voice! I miss you so much it hurt!”

“I know you are angry at me and utterly detest me but please—uhmhm!”

It felt like he hadn’t kissed her in years and the last thing he wanted to do was stop! He wants to continue to cradle her in his arms, chest pressed again chest, lips interlocked as if to prove that he still loved her like it he always had since they had first met.

When they finally parted, Calvin rested his forehead against Indigo’s touching their noses together in soft butterfly kisses, “I’m sorry,” he panted, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..”

He continued to repeat the words like a mantra while kissing her cheeks and down her neck, “I don’t hate you, I could never hate you! I love you! I love you so much! I keep failing you, I keep failing our children, I guess I thought that keeping my distance until I could make things better would fix our problems… Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Calvin,” Indigo exhaled as he continued to kiss her skin laying her down in their bed, bawling his clothes within her fist as he laid on top of her.

“Do you forgive me, angel, can you forgive me,” Calvin yearned in her ear, “I’ll do anything for you to forgive me, angel eyes, just tell me what I have to do.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Indigo longed, a hand wrapping in his curls, “I forgive you.”

Calvin groaned into the crock of her neck, “You probably want to take a shower,” Indigo muttered.

“No, I’m staying right here, and we’re talking,” he replied.

They spoke most of the night about nothing and everything all at once, Falling asleep early in the morning.

“Do you want breakfast?” Calvin asked, getting out of bed the following morning.

Indigo groaned, “No, I’m not really hungry.”

“Have you been eating properly?”

“I don’t want to answer that.”

Calvin rolled his eyes kissing her cheek, “I’m gonna jump in the shower, are you going to the college today?”

“Yeah.” Indigo muttered into her pillow, “There is some stuff that I need to finish.”

“Do you want to go in together?”

“I’d like that.”

She would join him in the shower a few minutes after he’d got in, he would play with her hair as she attempted to make herself look presentable, distracting each other while getting dressed, before walking hand and hand to the college. Outside the infirmary, Calvin peppered her face in kisses muttering French sweet nothings to her.

“I’ll come and we’ll have lunch together, alright?”

Indigo nodded, “I’ll text updates with our girl once I get them.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” he yearned holding her face in his hands.

“I love you too,” she replied in the same tone before kissing softly before leaving for her office.

“Thank goddess,” Sloan sighed, walking to the infirmary, a witness to the lover's scene in front of the infirmary, “The world is healing.”

[edwardskhakipants]

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.  

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.  

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.  

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested.     Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.  

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to. 

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats. 

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo.  “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Too many options

Yelena Belova x reader, a lil bit angsty, a lil bit fluffy, mentions of mindcontrol, happy ending as usual, adjusting to ordinary life

You wanted this evening so badly. Dreaming about it for weeks. Finally everything was close to normal. No alien invasions or governmental missions. No nightmares or tears for both of you for almost a month. You were expecting an ordinary date. As much as it can be under your circumstances.

But Yelena wasn't there yet. You were waiting in your meeting spot for almost an hour. It wasn't something new. Out of a sudden she could have a briefing or a mandatory status report. But she always managed to at least send a text. When both of you were particularly lucky she even could call you.

But this time it was different. Not a text, not a call. You yourself tried to contact her a few times. Her number was unavailable.

You had a bad feeling about this. How could you not. You knew too well the nature of her work. The possible outcomes and consequences. The ones that didn't let you sleep at night. Horrific dreams of her possible injury, even death. Yelena tried so hard to help you fight this, while being simultaneously consumed by other fears herself.

Adjusting was hard. Especially in the first few months of your relationship. It was mere weeks when you met after she was freed of mind control.

And in the beginning it was intense. Sure, Avengers did provide the resources for needed support. But it was you who had to deal with mood swings, depressions or anger issues.

Adjusting to the real world was hard, exhausting and painful.

Yelena warned you though in the beginning. She's not used to ordinary life. But with you she'd like to try.

It was getting ridiculous, so you went home.

What you saw there shocked you.You didn't know whether Yelena was there or not so opted to use your own key.

There were piles of clothes on the floor in the hallway. Yelena's clothes. What the hell was going on?

"Lena, are you here?"

No answer. You carefully proceeded to the next room. The same thing. Piles of shirts and jeans, jackets and coats were just lying around. They were not torn or anything. Just there, waiting to be picked up and worn.

"Yelena?" You called again, hoping for at least something.

When you finally reached your bedroom you were almost afraid to get inside.

"Love, are you there?" You asked as you were opening the door.

You sighed with relief. But it lasted only a second.

Your woman was sitting on her knees near the biggest stack of staff. Her hair tangled, eyes red from tears. She was wearing a weird mix of pajama pants and her bra.

As soon as you understood the surrealism of the situation you rushed to her.

"Babe, what's happened?" You clumsily fell on your knees in front of her.

She didn't react, blankly staring at the mirror, which you now were blocking.

"Малыш, что случилось? (Babe, what happened?)" You said in your broken Russian. That was the trick that you often used to calm her down. It was her idea in fact. She taught you this language herself.

Yelena heard you and slowly opened and closed her mouth.

"Лена, кто-то был здесь? Тебя ранили? (Lena, someone was here? Are you hurt?)"

You carefully examined her face, barely touching her. No blood, no visible injury. Same with the neck and shoulders.

It took her almost five minutes to properly feel you on her skin. She was confused, but she was finally there with you.

"What, what are you doing?" She removed your hand from her body. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I mean..."

"I said, I'm fine." Yelena raised her voice, but immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I know you have questions. But I did it myself."

"Yourself?" You echoed in disbelief.

"Да. (yes)" She got on her feet. And put on the nearest t-shirt. "I... It's hard to explain."

"Do you want something. Anything?" You couldn't fathom what was going on. But you were sure that Yelena thought of this as "I can handle this on my own" situations. And that wasn't a good sign.

"No." She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I've missed our dinner."

"It's fine. We'll have another one." You gave her a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, if It doesn't happen next time too." She laughed bitterly. "With me you never know, ha? Kinda like a time bomb."

You tried to approach her, but she shook her head.

"It's always like that. Aren't you tired of it? We're having a great day, week, month. But I always find a way to screw it up."

She hated herself during moments like this. Always feeling like she still didn't have control over her own life. Who knew where and when the next outburst could happen. And what could trigger it.

"It's not your fault." You once again tried to reach out to her. This time she stepped away from you.

"Right." She let out a groan. "But it's my fault. But somehow it's because of me, we're standing in this mess instead of enjoying our life together."

She was so angry, so frustrated. This was supposed to be your romantic evening. Personal, intimate. All those things she was always denied.

"We are enjoying ourselves. It's just an episode..."

"Really? That's how you call it?" Yelena was almost hysterical. "A fucking episode. Do you even..."

She clenched her fists, and the vein on her neck could burst at any moment. She started pacing the room, avoiding at any cost looking at you.

"You want to know what happened? I was preparing, you know, choosing the clothes. Started thinking about it. And I..." She suddenly stopped, trying at least to calm her breath. "I... I got overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do. You won't believe it, but suddenly I felt a burden of responsibility... What should I wear, how should I combine clothes and how others would perceive me. How you would. What color, what style...should I copy someone or I'm good enough myself...I...I was always told what to wear and now..."

You didn't care about her protests anymore. You hugged her, immediately feeling her heartbeat, her fire on your skin. She was trembling all this time, devouring herself from inside, killing another Yelena, the one that she didn't control.

"I... I..." She couldn't stop herself. Weeping and shaking, she was finally defeated by reality.

It took her a few minutes to come back to you. You felt it. She kissed your collarbone, asking for attention.

"I'm with you, babe. I can only imagine what it's like. Being overwhelmed by options, by your own responsibility, by the consequences of the actions you yourself took. But it's ok." You were gently stroking her hair. "You hear me? It's ok. We... We are gonna work on that. Simplify everything. Reduce the number of options. And it's not about clothes, it's a...about everything. We'll get there. I promise."

"You're going to throw everything away?" Yelena whispered.

"Maybe. temporary, I guess. We should have thought it through. Not buy mindlessly everything we see."

"Even my vests?' Yelena sounded so timid. She was hiding in your embrace, putting herself together again.

"Of course not. Кем ты меня считаешь? (who do you think I am?). We're keeping the vests at any cost." You could feel Yelena smiled so close to your heart.

You both knew there was so much hard work ahead. Overcoming and fighting, breaking and building. But you were ready for it. Both of you. It was worth it.

[mochegato]

I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

This was supposed to be an easy job, the last thing he had to do before Talia would think he was ready and let him go on his own path.  Trail the heroes back to the Guardian, steal his miraculous, wait until the heroes detransform, steal their miraculous.  Lure the villain out and steal his miraculous.  Child’s play. He didn’t need years of training for this.  

But then they were kids.  Kids who started the same age as him.  Kids who weren’t being protected as they risked their lives protecting everyone else.  Kids who actually cared about the people they worked with.  Kids who weren’t self-righteous, condescending, assholes. Kids who deserved to have good lives. But they were kids who were sacrificing their lives for this fight and he could help with that.  

Once he finished the mission, they could have their lives back.  He takes their miraculous, tracks down Hawkmoth and takes his miraculous, and everything goes back to normal for them.  Their lives can go back to normal, like none of this even happened.  He just needed to track down Hawkmoth, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.  He didn’t know what the heroes had tried already, but they were civilians.  

Everything he found out about Ladybug, or rather Marinette Dupain-Cheng, indicated that she had no detective training.  He had been trained by the World’s Greatest Detective and the League of Assassins.  Even if the butterflies were impossible to track, he should be able to find something that would lead him to the villain.  Then he takes that asshole’s miraculous, and the heroes, more specifically Marinette, could have her childhood back, what’s left of it anyway.

He just needed to get started and since he knew Marinette’s identity, that made her the weak link, so he’d start with her.  He’d been hoping he could track her to the Guardian, but she hadn’t gone to him.  Probably because knew she was being tailed.  She hadn’t done anything definitive to show it, she was too good for that, so if he didn’t know the signs, he would have missed it.  But he did know the signs, so he hadn’t missed them.

He could see the way her shoulders would tense up when he was watching her soothe to one of her classmates when they were panicking. He could see it in the way her eyes lingered around the playground just a little longer than was normal when she was babysitting.  He could see it in the forced even breaths when she was feeding strays.  He could see it in the way she would be in a design trance, focused on sketching, her eyes bright, and she would suddenly snap her head up, snap her book closed and head home.  He could see it in the way her smile suddenly strained when she was helping a stranger.

After another few weeks of trailing her, he had finally decided it was time to take her miraculous.  Instead of trailing her to the Guardian then take her miraculous, he’d take her miraculous and trail Chat Noir to the guardian.  He was the second in command, therefore he was the most likely to approach the Guardian with the information and come up with a plan. Whatever plan they came up with didn’t matter, as soon as he knew where the Guardian was, it was over.

Now, he just had to come up with the perfect time to take it, without hurting her too much in the process, which was going to be a challenge no matter when he did it.  There was no way she would just let him take them and while he could definitely overpower Marinette, he was hoping to do it with as little violence to her as possible.  Everything he’d observed so far about her told him she would likely already feel like she failed once he took them, he definitely would have.  Hopefully she reacted better to it than he would have, because back then, when he worked with Bruce, when he had a home, or thought he did, he would have gone into a deep depression.  He already knew it was going to happen, but he didn’t want to make it worse. She didn’t deserve that.  She didn’t deserve any of this.

The easiest way seemed to be to knock her out as painlessly as possible.  So here he was, following her, hanging back more than a respectable distance so he wouldn’t alert her to his presence and waiting for the perfect opportunity to isolate her and use the tranquilizer dart in his pocket.  And that would have been the way things went except it seems fate had a change of plans, in a way that only a crowbar to the side of the head could do.  This time it wasn’t a clown wielding the crowbar, but the effects were just as devastating.

There was a somewhat sheltered part of the park Marinette was walking through, trees on either side of a narrow walkway, shielding the area from prying eyes.  If she kept the direction she was going, she’d walk right through it, and that was where he’d strike.  He gripped the dart tighter in his pocket, prepping himself for what he was about to do to her.  He’d just picked up his pace when someone burst through an apartment building wall. Or rather, something did.  

An akuma calling himself the Shusher jumped at the kids in the park, wielding a crowbar of all things, to silence all of Paris. Each hit stole a bit of volume, until it stole their life, which to Jason’s horror, he demonstrated on Marinette. She’d acted immediately, jumping in front of the kids, giving them time to run, drawing him away from the direction they ran.  She’d dodged well for the first few swings, but after that, she’d grabbed his arm and kicked his kidney.  If the man hadn’t been an akuma, Jason was positive he’d be on the floor, but with the magical reinforcement, the akuma didn’t even flinch.  Instead, he swung hard, and with the close proximity, she didn’t have the room to dodge this time.

Jason froze at the first swing.  Why did it have to be a crowbar?  He couldn’t get his body to move.  He couldn’t react.  He couldn’t help.  And he couldn’t tear his eyes away.  The first hit knocked him out of his stupor.  The sight was horrifying.  His body finally moved, but slower than normal.  It didn’t seem to respond to him like it usually did.  He didn’t reach them until Marinette was already on the ground, no longer breathing.

He watched the blood seep out from under her until it had saturated the ground around her.  A sickeningly satisfied smile spread across the akuma’s face as he examined Jason to see what he would do.  Jason looked to the side toward the sheltered part of the park and back to the akuma. He pulled his hood over his head until the only part of him that could be seen was his glowing green eyes.

“Game on, mother fucker,” Jason growled as he sprung at the akuma, catching him around the waist and rolling toward the shielded section of the park.  He let the akuma attack him, backing him up until they were fully shielded on all sides by the trees.  Once he was sure nobody could see them and no cameras could record them, he leaped up and attacked the akuma with a volley of kicks and punches that would have left any normal human dead and unrecognizable within seconds.

He continued to attack the akuma until he heard the miraculous team arrive.  He kept the akuma distracted while Marinette’s team found her body and took a minute to mourn.  When they approached with a new found determination, he backed into the trees, effectively disappearing from the scene.  The akuma switched targets quickly, more interested in taking the miraculous than continuing a pointless fight with him.  Jason watched the akuma jump away and the team follow him.

The fight was long and messy without their leader there to guide them and them emotionally thrown off by her death, but Jason kept a close eye on the news coverage of it in case he had to step in. Every fiber in his being was pushing him to join the fight and tear the bastard to pieces, slowly and in the most painful ways possible.  But he couldn’t do that.  If he did, Talia would know what he did, that he intentionally betrayed them.  He wouldn’t last the week, let alone Marinette.

And regardless of the outcome of the fight with the heroes, the man wouldn’t survive the week anyway.  Jason was going to make sure of it.  That thought was the only one running through his head as he watched Marinette’s lifeless body strewn out on the ground, her arms at odd angles, the bruises starting to form, the spots where the crowbar hit starting to puff up.  He could no longer make out the shape of her face.  Her eyes, which had always been so bright and hopeful and passionate, were now lifeless and dull.  

It stole his breath away.  He felt a sharp pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away, worse than if he would have taken a hit to the chest from the crowbar.  Which is exactly what should have happened.  He had training.  He had experience.  He should have been the one to jump into the fight, not Marinette.  She didn’t have any of that and she jumped in to save those kids.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him off for long and she still did it.  

And he wanted to be angry or surprised but he wasn’t either.  Because he’d done his research.  He’d been observing her for over a month now in and out of the suit.  That’s just who she was.  That’s who he was supposed to hurt.  God, the idea of being the cause for her eyes to dull over hurt.  But he kind of was, wasn’t he.  And his plan, if he went through with it, would do it all over again.

After an eternity, a wave of pink and red ladybugs swept through the area, returning the surrounding buildings to normal. Marinette gasped back to life. She jolted up to sitting only to slump immediately after.  She took a few shuttering breaths before reaching up to feel her ears.  “No, no, no, no,” she started panicking and searched her surroundings.

“They’re gone,” Jason answered the unasked question.

She stared at him wide-eyed, fear lacing her eyes, quickly turning to a furious glare.  He held up his hands in surrender.  “It wasn’t me.  It was your friend so she could fight the akuma.”  She looked at him doubtfully, but nodded.  She was healed after all, so the akuma must have been defeated.  She kept her eyes on him and slowly urged her body to tense in preparation for whatever attack he had planned.

“Relax.  I’m not going to fight you, kid.  I’m not looking for a fight today… except maybe that guy with the crowbar,” he growled the last part of his sentence, his eyes wandering in the direction the fight had gone.

“No!  You can’t do that,” Marinette exclaimed loudly, almost lunging at him, but collapsing back down almost instantly from the shock of movement to her system.

“Are you serious, Goody Two Shoes?  He killed you.  He beat you until you stopped breathing.  He took your life from you with no remorse and you’re going to protect him?” Jason barked.

“It wasn’t him.”  Jason scoffed at her.  “I’m not saying he’s a good guy.  I don’t know him.  But, the akumas, they change a person, morph them, make them into someone they aren’t. It isn’t them.  And I don’t want anyone dead because of me.”  She met Jason’s glare with a determined one of her own for a few seconds before she looked away.  “And it’s Marinette, not Kid or Goody Two Shoes.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at her and pressed his lips together in frustration.  “Fine. I won’t kill him.  But you need to be careful because the League of Assassins is after your jewelry.  And stop telling strangers your name.”

Her eyes snapped back up to meet his.  “What is the League of Assassins?” she asked cautiously. “And like you didn’t know my name already.  You know it. Use it.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.  “And you wouldn’t believe me about the League if I told you.” He shook his head lightly, but the serious expression on his face was enough to scare Marinette.

“Try me.”  Her voice held more confidence than she felt.  Like she was challenging him.

“It’s a league … comprised… of assassins.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and huffed out a long suffering breath.  He gave her a charming grin, maybe the first authentic, happy smile he’d given since before he died.  He looked in her eyes and suddenly turned away.  His smile faded to a frown.  “There's a timer on this peace.  They want the miraculous and they want them before you defeat Hawkmoth because they know they’ll have no way to track them once you’re not using them anymore.”

He looked back in her eyes.  “They'll send somebody else as soon as I leave here.  They’ll send more.”

“Someone better?” she chuckled mirthlessly.

Jason scoffed and gave her a roguish smile.  “Oh Pixie, there is no one better.”

Marinette actually laughed.  “Well then, I've already survived the best.  I'm sure I can survive the rest,” she said defiantly.  “And I told you to call me Marinette.”

Jason smiled proudly, but quickly shook it off.  As long as Hawkmoth was active, they were in danger, she was in danger and he wouldn’t be able to protect her.  The only way out of it was to become him.  “Not unless you're willing to kill them. They're not like me.  They won't walk away when they see who you are.  They'll keep coming until you kill them.”

She looked at him curiously.  “And who am I?  Who am I to you to make you stop?”

Jason looked away, his eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to her eyes.  “You're like me, like I used to be.  But better.  You're who I should have been, who I was supposed to be.”  His head whipped around to the sound of people calling her name. “Time’s up.  Good luck.”

“Wait…” she called after him.  She tried to get up and go after him, but he was already gone before she could ask more questions.

Two weeks later she received an email addressed to Pixie with a clear video shot through a window of Gabriel Agreste transforming into Hawkmoth.  A week later, she, Chat, and the rest of the team took him down, with video documentation of the whole thing and Officer Raincomprix as a witness.  Ultimately, once they knew who to go after, it was actually extremely easy to sneak in camouflaged and immobilize him.  They just needed that last piece of the puzzle.

The justice investigation was quick, as was the trial. Everyone involved was eager to get it over as quickly as possible, and with incontrovertible evidence against him, Gabriel didn’t have much of a defense to give anyway.  Waking up Adrien’s mother took a bit longer, but with the help of the monks in the temple, she made a full recovery.  Marinette’s memories of the previous three years, however never did.

Chapter 3

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly

[robinsarm]

Heya!! Can I get some sleepy Quentin headcanons? I'm on a "monster befriends human" kick, so maybe something involving that? You said you needed ideas, so here ya go?

Sleepy Quentin, huh, @chaoticlovingdreamer? I think I can scrounge up a couple >:3

I assume that a lot of people see Quentin as a pill or caffeine fiend, especially while he lived in the real world. But what I think some people forget is that he also has ADD/ADHD as stated by his movie. Do you understand what lack of medication and exhaustion does to a person with ADHD? It's not fun, I'll say that much.

When Quentin is really hitting the bottom of his energy tank he gets more and more distant from everyone else. He'll stop talking, start sitting further away from the fire, and intrusive/depressing thoughts start to riddle his mind. Since a healthy dose of sleep isn't on the menu for Quentin usually, he'll start to cope with his exhaustion in other ways; other ways that aren't healthy and can be left up to the imagination for now.

Some of the survivors that have been there the longest have learned to spot these signs from Quentin before he begins "coping". They'll immediately get up and take him for walks or bring him back to the fire and in front of 20+ other sets of eyes. Claudette, Ace, Meg, and Laurie are usually the nicest and manage to cheer him up faster than anyone else. Steve, in recent years, has also grown to notice and make sure his teammate is okay.

Have you ever seen the joke of someone getting hit in the head on a cartoon and they fall flat on their face, knocked out? Visualize that, and realize Quentin does that on a regular basis just without the hitting part. Like someone with narcolepsy, when Quentin’s brain and body are tired of being awake, he’s out like a light; heaven forbid he’s standing near anything sharp when this happens. From time to time, Quentin will just suddenly fold like a GMOD player hit their kill key. There’s no waking him up for a while after that. So far, it’s never happened in a trial; who knows why, Quentin is just grateful for that much. 

When Quentin is tired and actually decides that he’d rather sleep then Collapse™, he will pass out just about anywhere. On the logs, in the bushes, up a tree (won’t do that anymore because he’s prone to falling out of said trees), on someone. Quentin has no shame when it comes to finding a place to rest his head for a minute and the others, for the most part, are fully understanding.  

Sleepy Quentin can also be confused with what Drunk Quentin would look like, only in his movements, however. I’d compare it to those really yanking pulls that Boiled Over can do in-game that just send the killer 5 meters to the left. Yeah...Quentin will do that a lot when he’s really tired. It’s normal to see him firmly planted on the ground when he’s extra tired just so he doesn’t fall into something or someone. (He took out a game of Blackjack that Ace and Bill were playing and felt incredibly bad afterwards) If Quentin can help it, he won’t move when he’s on the very verge of passing out. 

Not so much headcanons but two scenarios I’d like to imagine have happened to Quentin:

I.

Quentin doesn’t sleep due to Freddy’s constant torment that he resumes every time the survivor falls asleep. But Quentin isn’t the only one Freddy torments. It’s been known that Freddy will hop from person to person if Quentin goes for too long without sleeping. However, the killer once made the mistake of pulling the same shit on the Legion which earned him a proper beating from the four teens afterwards. Because of this, the Legion made sure that the Nightmare can’t enter Ormond unless he’s in a trial. 

(I have a personal headcanon that killers can ask the Entity to block a different killer from entering their realm if given proper reasoning, and that’s how I’d see the Legion being able to keep Freddy out of Ormond)

Quentin, by an odd string of occurrences, ends up at Ormond and gets to talking to the killers - since they’re in a good mood. One of them brings up how shitty Quentin looks and actually offers if he’d want to sleep there for a bit. Quentin, taken slightly off guard, shrugs the invitation off, explaining Freddy would just show up and start attacking him again. The Legion, ever so boastful, counters with their story and clue him in on the fact that the Nightmare can’t enter the realm outside of a trial. Quentin’s not buying it but the killers insist just to prove themselves right, eventually having to hold the boy at knife-point to get him to stay and sleep. After a three hour, uninterrupted nap, Quentin wakes up and realizes they were telling the truth.

Regardless, Quentin doesn’t trust the Legion. However, if he’s feeling exceptionally tired and has a few 100k bloodpoints lying around, Quentin will pay the Legion to let him sleep for a few hours, undisturbed. They’re happy to take his money and he’s happy to sleep off his exhaustion.

Still, Quentin does sleep at the fire on occasion; he does only because of the fact Freddy wants him. If Freddy can’t get to Quentin, he’ll start tormenting and hurting his friends. Since Quentin doesn’t want that, he keeps his trips to Ormond few and far between. 

II.

There’s one killer Quentin never thought in his life he’d manage to “befriend” outside of trials. Slinger is a fat no; the man is still a hard-ass to everyone other than Zarina. The Yamaoka family keep to themselves and kill anything on sight. The original four are apathetic towards everyone. Michael, Freddy, Ghostface, Pinhead, Nemesis, Pyramidhead - all psychopathic monstrosities that earned their own circle in hell. I could go on.

No, of all the killers to actually show any sort of compassion (or just lack of hostility) towards Quentin was the Demogorgon. 

It started during a horribly unfortunate trial on Azarov’s. Felix and Yun-Jin were long since dead, leaving only Quentin and Feng to do the last two generators. The thing was, Feng seemed to be trying her absolute hardest to screw Quentin over every time the killer got close. She ran in front of him while they were both running from the killer, she blocked pallets, blocked windows, if the killer got close she immediately hid behind anything large enough. Sure she apologized at the beginning of the trial, but those quickly trailed off. Quentin just wasn’t in the mood for it. So, when he went down for his third and final time due to Feng’s not-so-subtle body blocking, Demo surprised both of them by not picking up the boy immediately. Instead, the killer hunted down Feng (for all of 20 seconds) and threw her onto a hook immediately, not leaving her until she was dead and gone. Quentin had the foresight to bring Unbreakable before entering the trial, so, by the time Feng had reached second stage, he was up and running. 

Even though hatch was visible before Feng died Quentin couldn’t find the damn thing to, literally, save his life. As he ran back into the territory where the killer was last, Quentin’s hope began to dwindle more and more as he heard and saw nothing. Demo, seeming to appear out of thin air, found him first and shred-tackled him into the dirt. On his back, Quentin thought he was going to be mori’d for sure, but then something...worse happened. The killer regurgitated Feng’s med kit onto his chest then stepped off and away from Quentin. Quentin didn’t know whether to thank the killer or puke himself. The amount of slime and saliva that drenched his clothing and neck had him pressing his mouth shut tight. What the hell is this killer doing? was the only thought in Quentin’s mind as he pealed the kit from his chest. 

Quentin didn’t believe that Demo could sit on his haunches like a dog before that trial, but he does now. 

The killer only watched as Quentin used the non-soaked medical supplies on himself until he was fully healed. Afterwards, the killer rose and started walking towards the killer shack. When Demo realized Quentin wasn’t following, it turned back, pathed behind the survivor, and herded him towards the decrepit building. Quentin had seen a lot when it came to weird shit, but this experience was quickly climbing the list. Rounding the far corner of the shack, Quentin found the hatch humming where it usually was. He turned and saw the Demogorgon, not trying to stop him but lying down like it was ready to take a nap. 

Quentin pointed to the hatch with his free hand. “I can have that?” The killer, not understanding human speech, looked down at the hatch then back up to Quentin. The survivor figured that was good of an answer as any, thanked the killer with a shaky voice, and hopped into the backdoor exit. 

Ever since that trial, Quentin has had this weird relationship with the Demogorgon. It’s fully based off the killer’s mood at the time, but for the most part, the pair seem to respect one another at the very least. Some trials, Demo will slaughter everyone mercilessly; others, the killer attacks everyone but Quentin. The survivor hasn’t found any rhyme or reason to the killer’s decision on how to treat him that day, but he’s grateful for the break when they come. 

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either I just got it from Pinterest,

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. Also mentions of potential abortions.

WORDS : 2,329

SUMMARY: You are detained and questioned by S.W.O.R.D. Wanda reality is breaking and Vision is acting differently than she remembers.  

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist 

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST 

You stared at the plain and depressing wall in front of you. If anyone saw you they would say you were staring into dead space but that wasn’t true. 

Your thoughts were consumed of Wanda and the baby. 

You didn’t plan on giving up on Wanda, she had woken up, it wasn’t long until her reality came crashing down on her and you needed to be there for her. You needed to help her with the pieces that were going to be left behind. 

Your hand rested on top of your stomach, gently brushing a thumb over the shirt. You didn’t know what the doctors did to you while you were unconscious, but you were certain that eventually they would find out if they hadn’t already. You still had mixed feelings about this pregnancy. You knew deep down it was likely the only time you will be pregnant and you can’t lie, already you felt a connection with the child even though at this point they were only a little clump of cells. 

This kid would be special, you felt it oddly enough. You immediately wanted to apologize even though it couldn’t hear you. You wanted to apologize for the life that they might have to live if that were the case. 

You remembered all the somber nights at the Avengers Tower and Compound. All the nights Steve told you he sort of missed being that boy from Brooklyn who always picked a fight he couldn’t win. He told you if he had known what would happen when he accepted the role of Captain America. He probably still would have done it, but still live on to regret it. 

Wanda had told you that she could never truly let go, she can never fully release all the emotions she kept bottled up. That people got hurt. That if she could go back and never sign up for HYDRA’s experiments, she would.

None of them wanted the life that they were forced into. Yeah some of them had volunteered like Wanda and Steve, but they didn’t fully realize the consequences of such actions then. 

Nat and Bucky never wanted this life, never signed on for it. 

Your child would be forced to the same fate if you allowed the pregnancy. 

You considered aborting the fetus, maybe it was better for it to never live than be born into this world. 

Were you even ready to be a mom? You had money saved up but that was for rent and the last of Steve’s avenging money that he had left behind. 

Steve. 

The kid would never know their father. Steve would always be that blank figure to them. That blank figure would be filled with so many questions and doubts. Everything but him. 

You didn’t want your kid to look at that blank spot and only think of what might have been or hate. You didn’t want them to think their dad left them because they didn’t love them. 

You thought back to the chair splintering under your hand when you remembered the pregnancy. 

You could easily hurt them and the thought alone terrified you. 

There were so many reasons on why you shouldn’t keep it, how maybe it was better this way. 

On the other hand you wanted to keep it. 

You wanted to be a mom. Or at least give it a shot, at least for this kid. Maybe you would break the cycle of abuse that either your parents or grandparents started. 

There was no maybe about it. 

You would. 

You had to. 

Rationally you knew you wouldn’t be a perfect mom and the kid wouldn’t have that perfect life you always wanted, but that didn’t matter. This kid would have their own life to live, their own adventures, their own highs and falls. This kid would have something that you didn’t receive and that alone would make all the difference. 

They’ll have their mother.

-

-

-

Wanda didn’t know when all of this started. The endless pit of nothingness consumed her and that was it. She remembers everything thus far, the black and white changing into colors. You support her through it all just as you did before. 

She wished she didn’t have to send you away but she had no other choice. You brought her back, made her remember that none of this was real. 

Wanda made a different version of you, it was simple enough, it was a simple illusion. You were there, but not there. 

This version of you was happy all the time, was her closest confidant, all the things she wanted you to be. Like how you used to be before Steve had left. 

Steve did a number on you just like Vision did with her. Steve left you in a different manner than Vision left her but the emotional toll it took was very much the same. 

Steve left you on his own terms, he was selfish and left everyone who was counting on him to return. For that Wanda would never trust Steve, real or not real, again. 

Vision didn’t have a choice, Thanos had taken that choice away from him. 

Wanda could feel her blood begin to boil at the thought of Thanos, wishing that she could have finished what she had started on that battlefield then. 

Avenging Vision. 

Wanda recalls the nightmares she had when she came back, the image of Vision's eyes turning milky white and the stone being ripped from his head and the way his head caved in. You would always hold her, you would always assure her that you were fine and that she hadn’t hurt you during the nightmares. She knew you lied but the thought that you cared enough that you didn’t mind her or getting hurt in the process helped a lot more than you would ever know. 

After the funeral Wanda didn’t know she was going to bring you back to her apartment. She didn’t know how more precious you would become to her after living with her. Wanda came to depend on you a lot more than she intended. At first she wanted to be kind, she knew the pain you were going through and didn’t want you to be alone. You didn’t deserve to be alone. 

Then you began to heal together, you sat with her while she was on the other end of the phone lines waiting for answers and filling out paperwork she needed to sign to legally locate Vision. You hugged her during her nightmares, even though her powers had more than once flown something dangerously close to your head. 

Wanda had held your hand when she helped you move out of the apartment you and Steve shared. She was simply there when you needed her to be. 

Wanda grew curious easily, after the first few nights she was tempted to look into your mind. She had mastered the art of doing it without anyone knowing. However, she wanted you to tell her, she promised herself to never use her powers on your mind. 

Now she had broken that promise and made you play your part in this reality, the best friend. Wanda didn’t read your mind but she had played with it. She had played with something so fragile and even when you woke up from her illusions you didn’t care about that. You had only cared about comforting her, about bringing her back from the waves. 

Wanda had no idea what she could possibly have done to deserve someone as loyal as you were in her life. 

But now she’s sent you away, like she did with Garladine. 

She walked into her home that she shared with Vision, her heart filled with something so bitter and so sweet when she looked at him. Like she was seeing the sun after a whole week of only rain and snow but knowing tomorrow there would only be more rain and snow. 

Vision turned around upon hearing the door close, Wanda was expecting to see him with that light and lovely look in his eyes just as he’s always done. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she saw instead nervousness and caution. He didn’t look at her the way Vision had always looked at her, or hell even how you looked at her. 

He looked at her the way that everyone else has looked at her before. 

Like she was going to hurt him. 

“Vision,” she called her voice as sweet as honey, “is everything alright.” Her husband flinched back when she tried to reach for him as though her touch had become poisonous. 

“I spoke to Norm,” He said his arms were crossed over his chest. His face contorted into a neutral state. Wanda felt unsettled, she felt him become reserved. 

“Oh?” she said not knowing what about talking to Norm would make him act this way. 

“I unearthed the man’s suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight.” 

-

-

-

“Hello Miss. (L/n),” You didn’t bother looking away from the wall, already whoever came in here was on your nerves. 

‘Miss. (L/n) we need you to answer some questions about the Hex.” You looked over and saw a man with the most punchable face you’ve ever laid eyes on. His tone may be nice but you met enough men like him to know how to spot them a mile away. 

“Only if you answer a few of my own.” You retort, you saw how the man stiffened. 

“I don’t think you're in a position to be demanding anything Miss. (L/n)” 

“You wouldn’t have come to ask me anything personally if you didn’t need to. Unless there was something that I may or may not know that could benefit you and even then you wouldn’t have come yourself, men like you have people get the answers for you, no you would only come yourself if it was something vital. Something that no one else on this base knows about.” You cock your head to the side and smile, feeling empowered as you see his hands tighten into a fit at his side. You apparently hit the nail right on the head. 

“So I feel like an exchange is in order,” You say standing up from your sitting position. The guards on either side of the man raised their guns at you. The man told them to stand down. 

“I answer 5 of your questions and you answer 6 of mine.” You held out your hand. 

“Miss. (L/n) why do you get to have more answers than I do?”

“Simple, you want something from me and me alone. I can ask any other agents around here my questions and not make a deal with you at all.” 

His hands flex and ball themselves back into fists and his jaw clenched in anger. You really were getting on his nerves. 

“I agree,” he reaches for your hand and shakes briefly. 

“I’ll go first,” he says. 

“How long were you in the Hex?”

“I’m not too sure of that but it’s safe to assume that I was there since it happened.” you responded, memories of the Hex were confusing and the memories of that day were blacked out almost completely. 

“My turn,” you say. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Director Tyler Hayward of S.W.O.R.D.” 

“My turn,” he says in a slight mocking tone.

“How did Wanda create the Hex?”

“Wanda’s powers are tied to her emotions; it's probably connected to that” You state. “What is S.W.O.R.D.” 

“Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department.” He responds. 

“Someone really wanted your divisions to be named Sword and Shield really badly didn’t they.” 

“Yes,” he said, “How long were you aware of the Hex while in it?”

“I was subconsciously aware the entire time, although I wasn’t completely aware until the Hex was in color and a hag gave me a notebook.”

His expression was puzzled but he dismissed it. 

“What did my lab results come back with?” 

“Why do you think we took blood from you while you were unconscious?”

“You're a powerful man who set up a meeting with me in secret to ask me a question you don’t want anyone else hearing. It’s not beyond you to secretly steal some blood to run secret tests on it.” 

“Touche,” he admitted, “however badly I would want that Agent Rambeau interrupted me before I could give the order.” 

Finally he reached the last question, the question he wanted to ask all along. 

“How did Wanda reboot the Vision?” 

Vision, he was after Vision. Somehow this made you uneasy, why would he care how Vision for rebooted unless...

“You have Visions body don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, his body gave him away. For a man who was running a semi secret organization he wasn’t that good at hiding his body language. 

“I believe you didn’t answer my question Miss. (L/n), “ he pointed out, “I guess that means one less answer for you.”

You rolled your eyes, you would let him have that. 

“I don’t know how she rebooted Vision, much less without a body, I don’t remember much of the day it happened.” His eyes hardened, upset that he had hit another dead end he went to leave. 

“I still have one more question Haybitch!” You called out, his feet stilled and he turned to you, eyes wide and offended at the nickname. 

“What are you planning on doing to Wanda?” That was the question you wanted to ask. His eyes crinkled as he gave you a sarcastic smile. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t remember much of that meeting when it happened.”

He then left you to wallow in your own thoughts. 

You knew he had a secret he didn’t want anyone else finding out. 

You knew Wanda knew it. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let her talk. 

You knew whatever his plan was involved her not being able to speak again.

[noona-clock]

The Dog Walker

Genre: Dog Walker!AU

Pairing: Hanbin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,022

You gasped softly when you glanced at your watch and saw what time it was.

If you had waited even a few seconds longer, you would have missed it.

But, as it was, you still had some time. So, you leaped out of your chair and dashed to the window in the front room of your townhouse, using two fingers to widen the slot between the blinds as inconspicuously as you could.

Your gaze shifted as far down the sidewalk as your window would allow, and when you saw the small, brown dog rounding the corner, your stomach flipped over itself.

Because the small, brown dog meant that he would follow.

And, sure enough, barely a second after you saw the dog -- whom you had named Teddy in your mind since he looked like a little teddy bear -- there he was.

You had no idea who he was. You didn’t know a name, an age, a location, a personality -- nothing. The only things you knew about this guy were that he was a dog walker, he took the same route every day, and he was somehow incredibly cute and incredibly handsome at the same time.

His dark hair that fell over his forehead just right. His slightly rounded cheeks that were just so pinchable. His square jawline and chin that added the perfect touch of sexiness to his face. His full lips that screamed to be kissed (not that you would kiss him because you didn’t know him, but boy did you imagine it). His straight nose that fit perfectly amongst his features.

And his eyes.

Oh my lord, those eyes.

They were never focused directly on you, of course, but you had caught enough glimpses of them to know that if they ever were... you would most likely faint on the spot.

But it wasn’t just his face that made him so captivating and alluring. The way he dressed was so effortless but so cool. And the way he walked kind of made it seem like he was a bumbling idiot but also like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Plus, as he’d passed your window one day, you’d heard him talking to the dog he was walking and it had almost made your heart beat right out of your chest.

It had sounded like he’d been having a full-on conversation with Teddy, and his tone of voice had been just about the cutest thing you’d ever heard.

If you ever did meet this guy in real life, you weren’t sure you would survive. And if you did, you certainly would never see or talk to him again because you would undoubtedly act like such a fool that he would stay as far away from you as he possibly could.

So... best to never even meet him. Or go outside to get your mail as he walked past.

You pressed your lips together, holding your breath as the guy and Teddy approached your window. Some days, it seemed like they were both walking in slow motion and you had all the time in the world to admire your dream man. Other days, it seemed like someone had pushed the fast forward button and the whole thing was over in the blink of an eye.

Today, blessedly, was a slow motion day.

Your forehead wrinkled as he loped down the sidewalk, his stride casual but purposeful. You bit back a squeal when you saw his mouth moving, murmuring some unknown words to Teddy (or whatever the dog’s actual name was).

And your eyes followed him like your life depended on it. As if you would actually cease to exist if you stopped watching him for even a millisecond.

And then, a few moments later, just the same as every other day... he was gone. He turned the corner at the other end of your block and vanished.

It was the highlight of your day, and yes, this was all incredibly concerning and upsetting. You were fawning over a guy you had literally never met. Literally never spoken one single word to. Literally did not even know you existed! And yet your heart began to hammer when you knew he was coming, and it sank when he was no longer visible from your window.

It was kind of like he was a celebrity you fangirled over... except he was just a normal guy. A dog walker. One who presumably lived in the same town. 

But he was definitely as handsome as a celebrity!

...Still, though. You knew if you ever told anyone about this daily routine of yours -- about your secret crush on a guy whose name you didn’t even know -- they would judge you. Harshly. And for a long time. Probably until you stopped spying on him as he went about his work.

So... you never told anyone. You didn’t even talk about it out loud to yourself. You didn’t write anything in your journal, either! This whole situation was something you would take to your grave.

With a soft sigh of disappointment, you let go of your blinds, turned on your heel, and shuffled back to your computer. It was right smack-dab in the middle of your work day, after all, and now that you’d had your daily fix of Cute Dog Walker Guy... it was time to come back to reality.

You know how some people get into a very specific routine but they can’t even remember how that routine came about? Like, it just sort of happened one day and then it stuck and now it seems like it’s just always been a part of their life.

That’s not how it was with your routine.

You remembered exactly how it had first happened -- every little detail. Partly because you had the memory of an elephant and were extremely observant, but also because... I mean, how could you forget the first time you saw...

Was it too dramatic to say ‘the man of your dreams’?

Maybe?

Okay, fine, I’ll just say this: How could you forget the first time you saw Cute Dog Walker Guy?

Close enough.

It had all gone down about two months ago, on a Wednesday. You had just finished a particularly long, particularly stressful project at work, and you had stepped away from your home desk for a limb stretch and a brain break. And probably a snack. 

The sun had been streaming in through the blinds, and you’d had a thought to go and open them, wanting to soak up a bit of vitamin D after being cooped up inside the entire morning.

And then you’d heard the barking.

If anything could put a smile on your otherwise grouchy face, it was a cute dog. And since you were the type of person to think just about any dog was cute, you scurried over to your window and, rather than pulling on the cord to lift the blinds up, you simply peeked through two of them to see if you could spot this yippy friend.

And, sure enough, you caught him trotting around the corner just in time.

You’d thought seeing this adorably fluffy brown dog would be the highlight of your day... but then the person walking him had come into view.

Basically, you’d known instantly that you were a goner.

The day after, you’d kept an ear and an eye out for both the dog and the dog walker, and much to your surprise and gratitude, you’d been rewarded. 

And again the next day, and the day after, and the day after.

At first, you’d thought the fluffy brown dog belonged to him, but there were some days when he was joined by a scruffy tan dog and other days when he was joined by a smooth gray dog -- both of them so cute you thought your heart might burst. So, you had eventually come to the conclusion that he was a dog walker.

Many times, you had been tempted to try and look him up by searching for dog walking services in your area. But, somehow, you’d resisted.

First of all, you kind of enjoyed the mystery. Second of all, you didn’t have a dog, so there was really nothing you could do with any information you found on him besides stalk him on social media.

You already spied on the guy every single day. Wasn’t that enough?

Your plan was really just to continue waiting and watching as he walked by your townhouse for as long as he chose to walk by your townhouse. If he ever decided to take a different route, then... you would just move on, I guess? Maybe try to actually meet someone you might be interested in dating?

That sounded like a pretty solid plan.

But, as we all know, life very rarely ever goes according to plan. I mean, the instant any one of us thinks we’ve come up with a pretty solid plan, The Universe simply shakes its head and laughs.

Instead of watching Cute Dog Walker Guy go past your window every day, admiring him from afar and daydreaming about your life together, wondering how much time you had left to watch and admire and daydream...

Well, I might as well just stop trying to explain and actually tell you what happened.

It was Monday. You were slightly depressed because the weekend had been far too short, and honestly, who decided that a workweek should be five days long, anyway? You’d barely caught up on your sleep over the past two days, and now you were expected to work again? For five days straight? It wasn’t at all fair, and along with being slightly depressed, you were incredibly distracted.

Really, you were sitting at your desk waiting for Cute Dog Walker Guy time rather than actually even trying to work.

But such is life!

And when the time finally arrived, you were ready. You pushed your chair away from your desk, stood up, and tiptoed over to your window with a hopeful smile tugging at your lips.

Almost immediately after you peeked through your blinds, though, you knew something was different.

Instead of hearing the jingling tags of Teddy’s collar, you heard... yelling?

“No, no, no, stop!”

...That didn’t sound good.

Your eyes darted around, trying to see what could be causing Cute Dog Walker Guy (at least, you assumed it was him) to call out like this. And when your gaze finally landed on a squirrel scampering around on the sidewalk and climbing up up a stop sign, you couldn’t help but let out an amused giggle.

Finally, Teddy turned the corner, and he was joined by a brand new dog you’d never seen before -- a dark brown brindle dog who was tugging at his leash and hunting the squirrel as if his life depended on it.

Cute Dog Walker Guy stumbled behind, his brow furrowed deeply as he continued to call out after the dog, desperately attempting to get things under control.

Attempting... and failing.

The squirrel hunter had, apparently, tuned out everything in the world around him so he could focus on his prey and was now jumping up the stop sign pole and barking.

“No, please, be quiet!” Cute Dog Walker Guy pleaded.

The squirrel then jumped from the stop sign onto the trash can at the corner, and Squirrel Hunter leaped after him.

Cute Dog Walker Guy yelped as the dog yanked him forward, both leashes getting tangled up in the stop sign and the trash can.

And then Cute Dog Walker Guy fell to the ground.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open slightly, a soft but strangled yelp of concern emerging from your lips.

Oh, god.

What should you do?

I mean, obviously, your instinct was to run outside and help him! He was now sprawled on the ground, trying to keep hold of the two leashes while one dog was still wildly jumping and whining toward the squirrel.

But... wouldn’t that be weird?! If you just immediately showed up to help him?! He would know you’d been watching!

Although, maybe he wouldn’t care? I mean, it really looked like he needed help.

But what if --

“Owwww -- stop! Stop it!”

At hearing Cute Dog Walker Guy’s moan of pain, you fled from your window and skidded to the front door.

Part 2

[fafulous]

Take Me Home - 5/5

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Chapter Warnings: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS (BOOK Ending),  Kinda filthy Smut (Do not read if below 18). 

It was precisely at 1:57 AM when the notification of your phone echoed in your room.

I need you Y/N. Please.

You didn’t even have to think about what to do next while your heart took little leaps, fingers tapping away to make him come back to you. But the doorbell rang even before you could hit the send button.

Both of you stood by the door embracing one another. Thankfully, he wasn’t tearing up anymore, but a hint of sadness lurked over him. Without any further ado, you pulled him in to your house, making a beeline to your room.

“Where is Niko?” he whispered.

“He’s asleep. Come on now.”

Andy was desperate for your comfort, for your touch and you didn’t hesitate in anyway the minute you shut the door. He immediately lunged into you to give his bear hugs that you found so comforting.

“Hey baby what happened?”

“I was just thinking about it okay,” he whispered closely “how when my life started falling apart, you came into it and made it better. I realised how I was stupid enough to think that leaving you that day was for the best of me.”

“Shhhhh, it’s all forgotten okay?” You stood on his feet, something he always loved and pecked his dried lips. “It’s over and we’re okay now.”

“I know honey I just need you so bad.”

Andy’s lips entwined in yours with all the pent-up passion he had for you. He squeezed your hips gently, slowly moving you towards your bed. He needed a release, someone to cling on to and there was no one better than you.

You straddled Andy, trapping his sturdy thighs with yours and stole another hungry kiss. Grazing your fingers through his hair you then peppered kisses all over his face, earning soft grunts that sent butterflies to your stomach.

Andy still did that cute thing you adored, asking for permission to remove your clothes. Gladly you said yes while you tugged on his shirt too. You traced his naked, soft belly, making no attempts to avoid the soft chest hair in your finger’s path. 

Andy hasn’t told you yet that loves you. But he also loves how receptive you are to his trail of kisses from the cups of your blue bra to your neck. He loves how your hands are trying to be all over the place at once, how his love bites look so sinful on your skin, how you just fit in his arms.

He loves how perfect you are for him.

Feeing him like this made your yearning even deeper; He needed to be loved right now and that’s all you were focussing on.

But before you could make him pliant under you, Andy had other ideas.

He leaves another trail of kisses down your breasts, biting the flesh tenderly that spilled over your bra. As much as he was needy, tonight he wanted to make everything about you as well.

“A-Andy what are you doing?” you whimpered as he never ceased his actions.

“Lay back honey, I wanna’ make you feel good. Is that okay?”

God, you wondered if this man knew how sinful he sounded.

He gently laid you down, your legs hanging down on the bed. He tugged your panties with just one of his fingers while he went up littering soft kisses on your thighs and wasted no time in licking your glistening heat.

When he started hearing your low, delicious whimpers, he licked a slow, hard stripe over your folds and then went on to kitten-licking your sensitive bud. He needed you, he needed to hear you more just to assure him that you were here at this moment.

“Mmm Andy,” your hands gripped on to his soft locks when he put both of your legs over his shoulders. He groaned louder over your folds when you pulled his hair harder; the vibrations of his lustful sounds sending tingles right there. His hands gripped you harder, going over your thighs which made you buck your hips shamelessly over his mouth. All of this invited you the feeling of his scruffy beard rubbing raw over your needy sex.

Midway he stopped and rested his cheek on your inner thighs to kiss them lightly, his beard tickling you earning a giggle mixed with a moan.

"Bubba don’t stop, I’m so-" 

He loved it when you moaned out words while he wasted no time in alternating between licking and swirling your clit with his tongue. He felt you shuddering, content that you were being washed over by a wave of pleasure when he grazed his teeth gently over your clit. Your thighs squeezed his head when you came on Andy’s face, gushing shamelessly even though you knew the man between your legs was ready to lick you clean. 

He did all of that with his mouth and nothing else.

But even when you came down from your high, he didn’t stop with his ministrations.

“Andy please-“

“Come on honey. Cum for me one more time please?” he peaked up like a cat, his beard a little wet, an innocent boy asking for permission…again. How could you say no to that face, especially if it was Andy Barber? 

Especially if it was Andy Barber with his beard drenched with your sweet release?

You whimpered a pathetic yes and this time he lowered one of your thighs from his shoulders and pressed thumb over your clit, and began to rub and swirl it mercilessly. You thought he had played enough with your bud when he stopped playing with it. Instead he inserted one of his fingers inside you. He peeked over to look at you to see any sign of discomfort but didn’t find anything; Only your toes curling and your body arching off of the bed.

You heard the sexiest guffaw when you moaned to Andy’s finger slip inside you, hearing a raspy whisper. Still so wet honey. He was quick to ask you if that was okay. Such a gentleman even in bed. 

But poor you could just whimper out another muffled yes. 

Every time he stroked your walls with just his finger, you could only grip on to his hairdo harder and moan louder and louder. Imagine what it would be if it were two thick fingers of Andy Barber inside you?

You realised you had said it out loud when another delicious finger of his slipped inside your walls. 

"Honey you’re so tight fuck.”

He pumped his fingers in and out of your rapidly when he felt your walls clench around his finger. Andy…Andy…oh god Andy. Everytime his name being moaned louder than before. Your body was quivering with need; you needed more and more of him. 

Just before he asked you to let go, his tongue played with your clit for one last time (for the night), letting your body feel the pleasure of a second orgasm.

He crawled on to the bed, hovering over you to see your blissed out state. Seeing you sprawled, spent because of him made him flush with happiness. While you were still revelling in the glory of the orgasm, Andy placed more of his love bites on your neck. 

All mine honey.

He placed a kiss on your forehead after wiping out the strands of hair stuck to your forehead from the sweat, lost in your eyes for a few moments…

He trailed down again now, devoted his attention to your supple breasts, kissing and kitten licking your cute nipples that he missed. Busy leaving a hickey between your valley, he hoarsely grunted when one of your hands grasped his cock. 

Oh Andy was hard, rock hard. He needed to be inside you so badly, but what kind of a man would he be if he didn’t make love to you first.

“Y/N…”

“Lemme take care of ya honey… You’re so hard,” you whimpered. 

“I will baby. Need to make you feel loved.”

That sunk your heart even though every inch of you was submerged in pleasure because of him. You couldn’t’ believe after this, he still felt the need to prove his affection to you. You pulled his face up to yours and kissed his pink lips that just fucked you to oblivion.

“I am bub, you’re here. You’re all I need to feel loved.”

Andy pressed his lips again and slipped in his tongue for an even hungrier kiss. Your hands reached his hair to tug on his soft curls of his hair; then slowly trailed to his back, nails grazing his toned muscles. 

“I want you feel you Andy please-” you whined.

He pushed into you slowly, grunting and breathing heavily on to each other’s faces. Hands intertwined and sweet moans fell out of each other’s lips, Andy soon placing a line of kisses from your ear to the neck when you whimpered in pain.

“Does it hurt honey?”

“Fuck…no. Move Andy…”

Once you got adjusted to his length, he began to thrust hard but in a slow, agonizing pace.

“Mmhm.” 

“I wanna  give you more.”

You felt so enveloped and hot. Andy’s hands were still intertwined with yours; his head tucked your neck while he left horse grunts over your skin. and your legs hiked over his hip and thigh as he increased the pace. He began rocking in and out of you faster.

With every thrust you felt him and he felt you, his home, all you could do his hug him hard and roll your eyes back, while you chanted his name religiously. He tucked his head between your neck, biting and kissing the skin urgently. He loved his name more than ever now.

At that moment everything before was forgotten; broken marriages, lost children, and a fucked-up past. 

It was just you and your Andy professing your love for each other where words couldn’t do justice.

You knew Andy was looking at you when he removed his forehead from yours while he still rocked his hips; the blue tint of his eyes visible even in this light. “I want to be yours, baby.”

More than the throbbing cock that was giving you a sweet pain, Andy’s vulnerability made you slip a tear from your eye and spread warmth all over you. “You are mine bub oh-”

Andy soon hit your sweet spot inside of you making you mumble incoherent profanities. His increasingly loud growls signified he was going to orgasm soon.

“Let go my love-”

Soon it was overwhelming for the two of you, screaming each other’s names loudly as you came over his cock, and then seconds later Andy’s spilling all over inside you.

He made love to you and professed his love to you. Overwhelmingly you let your tears fall only for Andy to calm you with a brush of his lips. He kissed you deeply this time, unlike any of his hungry kisses. 

Bodies still intertwined, Andy rolled over after a while for he loved the feeling of his body over you, his forehead pressed onto yours. With a lovestruck gaze and uneven breathing he whispered how good you were to him.

But you couldn’t help but recall what Andy whispered into your ear as he came. “Andy,” your half-lidded eyes lost in his gaze, so overwhelmed with all the emotions you are at a loss of words, “Am I really your love?“

“Yeah…yeah you are.” Even though more tears sprang from your eyes, Andy knew its intimate nature that even your tears were a way of saying that you were going to be there for him.

“Don’t cry my love,” he still whispered, as if the moment was to be shared by you two alone in this cocoon of entwined limbs and hearts; too scared if he was loud, anyone would snatch this moment from him.

“You know something?”

“What’s that?”

A soft, breathy giggle. “You are my love too.”

A soft, hearty laugh. “That’s fucking fantastic then.”

Before you could rest for the night, Andy and you ran for a quick shower. Tired out by three orgasms by this specimen, he didn’t do anything else but take care of your needs again, cleaning you up under the warm water while his hands roamed all over your favourite scented soap.  

Next thing you know you were dried up and tucked into bed with his grey sweater which you happily wore. You lazily tucked your head into his soft pecs, cuddling into him just to be held. Both passed out, tired even to wish each other a good night.

—

His phone alarm didn’t go off. Or maybe it did, and he just missed it because he just had the best sleep in weeks.

Andy stretched out and felt well rested after a very long time, grinning little by little as he recollected his last night events when he realised why he was naked in the first place. He rolled over to pull you into embrace, but his hands only met an empty side.

Hearing the soft padding of footsteps, he quickly put on his boxers and went underneath the bed again just so he doesn’t scar the child in the house.

Before he could stand to make the bed and find his shirt, you came in with Nikolai right in front of you with a tray filled with delicious smelling breakfast. He found his grey sweater on you. Only his sweater. "Suhpwise Wandi!” Andy felt warm for such a wonderful awakening given by you and your little boy. You even giggled when you saw how Andy took a mini sprint to the bathroom to brush his teeth, cursing his morning breath. (You weren’t even shy to check out how his boxers hugged his peaches.) He came back to the tray placed right in front of him and scooped your son into his arms. “Buddy, mom and you didn’t have to do this you know?” “I know Andy, I wanted to,” your voice still hoarse from the early awakening, “Besides there’s food for us too on this tray, right Niko?” “Pwankakes!” It was a perfect morning indeed. Andy relished the stack of pancakes with a generous amount of maple syrup (not before he quickly took another glance at you and winked at your glorious thighs on display). It seemed that at this moment the three of you were placed in a cheesy family novel: everybody pointing out their forks to feed each other and the only thing they could hear was giggles and mmmhm this is delicious mama. After Nikolai filled the room with the sound his burp, he went running away into the hall. Now you knew what was coming. In one swift motion he pushed the tray to the side and tugged you towards him and adjusted you onto his lap with your back to his. You couldn’t help but giggle when he nuzzled his face into your neck to pepper kisses and blow raspberries that sent tingles all over. “Is this okay my very own sexy thighs?” He asked, wrapping one of his arms around your waist. His morning voice must be worshipped alone. “More than okay Mr. Barber.” He was almost cradling you, sitting on his lap while his hands roamed over your hips and pecking over your sweet spot in the nape of your neck. It was then he noticed the litter of hickeys decorating your neck. He traced them gently with those fingers, every moment vividly coming now to his thoughts. The need you had for each other; the love that you had for each other was finally professed last night.

“No regrets about last night?”

“Oh, I’d be an idiot if I did.” You turned around and kissed him affectionately, hands roaming through his scruffy beard. A few seconds later you pulled away to say something that was all over your mind today morning.

“Last night… was mind blowing Andy.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming honey.”

“It was more than that bub.” You leaned in closer scared anytime Niko could walk in. “Do you remember?”

“What’s not to forget Y/N?”

“I know I know,” you turned around on his lap, “We were at our most vulnerable last night and you came to me for comfort but still it was you who made love to me, you took care of me when I needed to do that.”

“I know that honey.”

“You also called me your love.”

“I could say the same thing but yeah, that’s ‘cuz you are.”

A statement of obviousness apparently. Andy was waiting for your reply seeing that you were holding on to something but also saw your quivering lips, giving him that puppy eyed look that screamed ‘you meaned every word of it didn’t you?’

“Come on honey, tell me what it is?”

You pushed him back completely towards the headboard and straddled his lap, taking a good minute to straighten your voice and talk to him. “I want to be there for you all the time not only when you’re vulnerable. I want this, I want you Andy Barber. I want these mornings with you. I want those afternoon siestas with you. I w-want those evening picnic time at the lawn with you. I want these vulnerable nights with you. I want a life with you Andy. I might be rambling, but I realised that life is too short for not giving chances-”

He silenced your racing speech with a deep kiss, his face pressed so closely to yours with his palms covering your cheeks, just like you loved it.

“Sweetheart hey. Relax okay? I know how you’re feeling and-”

“I really do love you Andy.”

“I really do love you too honey.”

Not another kiss pressed to your lips but, Andy engulfed you in his favourite bear hug, placing kisses on the crown of your head while you felt your body pressed onto his soft torso. After a while of wholesome hugging, a little grinding over his groin to tease him made him grip your hips tighter; enough pressure to earn a moan from your mouth.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish honey.”

“Who said I wasn’t ‘gonna.”

You began to roll over his clothed boxers faster, earning a grunt and a chuckle from your man and little Niko.

Niko?

“Mommy why you dancing on Andy’s lap?”

Getting caught red-handed did not have you prepared. Pushing Andy off of you even though you were literally sitting on him, made him hit his head harder on the headboard. You heard a loud ow, whereas you somehow in this process, you fell down to the floor hard on your knees.

The scene was so funny but either of you had no time to reach each other because of a hurt head and a bruised knee.

Niko ran to you after this mishappen, giggling all the way till he touched your knee. “Mommy you got a boo-boo. Did I scare you?”

“No bub, but- “

“Niko why did you remove your shirt?”

Andy surely asked that to divert the child’s attention to your naughty antics that took place just a few minutes back. But really now that he asked, you wondered why your boy removed his shirt. Niko convinced that he could remove his shirt since Andy isn’t wearing one right now. The logic of children astounded you.

Now you knew what you had signed up for. Days of trouble and happiness were ahead of you now as you sat on the floor facepalming with a feigned annoyance at your son’s logic. “He is imitating you and now I have to deal with two Andy Barber personalities?” You lifted an eyebrow teasingly at the bigger shirtless man behind you.

Andy joined you on the floor and hugged you, peppering hard, loud kisses on your cheek. You were waiting for Niko to get embarrassed and run away but he joined Andy in attacking your other cheek upon Andy’s kisses. The room was filled with the sound of lips pressing on skin and hearty, wholesome giggles.

“Yes, you do and don’t lie,” he paused between his kisses, “you love it.

—

Days move on with no qualms of insecurities and no shortage of love. Dinner nights are back, and everything seems to be normal you could never be even happier. Except for your little boy.

You should have seen this coming. He returned with a frowned face from his day care with Andy the following week. He noticed Niko’s behaviour on the way back, trying to cheer up the little one with food and toys, but he just didn’t seem to budge. That night he ate so poorly, refused to have his tea parties which was scaring you so deeply. Niko even slept off soon that day in his room; nightmares no longer threatening him.

But Andy didn’t want to take any chances of this situation, so he made Niko sleep with him and you that night. It took an hour worth of convincing each other that this was just a bad day for a three-year-old and it shouldn’t be much of an issue. Kissing each other on the forehead, the three of you went to sleep hoping everything would be fine the next day.

But it didn’t.

You got a call from the day-care, asking you to pick up your son because he was throwing an uncontrollable tantrum.

After handing over the library shift to your assistant and your new intern, you picked up a red eyed Nikolai. His nose was stuffy, appearing to have cried for a long time. You cooed into his ear, making him wrap himself around you like a koala bear and you spoke to the lady in charge.

Turns out at the day-care, the activity scheduled for that day was to draw a family picture. Nikolai was too conflicted and confused as to who to draw and began to cry. They asked you to take care of Niko and send him back to the day-care whenever he felt like returning. Although it was normal for kids to comeback home early due to tantrums like these, you couldn’t help but apologize to the lady in charge.

“No need to apologize sweetie. He is just confused. Talk to him okay? Take your time and send him whenever the little boy feels like.”

Buckling the little boy in his baby seat, you quickly exchanged text messages with Andy and got into the car. It was then Niko spoke up.

“Mama? I miss papa. Does he not wike he anymore?”

And there began the trouble.

How were you going to tell him he was never coming back?

—

Andy did not hesitate to finish his swimming classes early the minute he put down his phone from texting you.

When he reached home, you ran into his arms and told him what Niko had asked of her. You had to tell him, how much more can a three-year-old take in you wondered.

“I don’t know what I am going to tell him Andy. He is too little to understand this shit.”

A reassuring grip on your shoulders, Andy took in charge, “We’ll talk to him okay? There is no more you and me. It’s we. It is us.”

Andy knew this before, you were the first one to tell him that Chad told her over text that the chances of him settling down with his new girlfriend were high and him never coming back were high as well, but that if she ever needed the help his parents were available.

Good riddance Andy thought but quickly smacked his thoughts when he realised the repercussions it would have on Niko. In spite of that strained relationship, he was after all his dad and Andy didn’t need any lecture about the disappearance of a father son bond…

And so, you did with the help of Andy, explain to your son why his dad would never even do weekly visits, why it was going to be a long time. You tried to show the bright side of things how he could still visit his grandparents, but it hardly made his frown disappear. The child’s eyes soon become bloodshot red from hearing this news. Children only know how to hold on to someone and not to let go.

Andy didn’t have to ask you, but he silently understood and took it upon his shoulders to be a new father figure for Niko. After all he always saw Niko as his little son.

Niko stayed at home for a couple of days, both of you alternating your leaves to be with home or even at the same day, distracting him with a long road trip with Andy’s car that he loved. It was the first time he seemed to forget about his dad troubles completely.

The next day Niko and Andy spent the day together, bringing the little kid to work with him. He enjoyed himself at the kiddie pool with a yellow-blue floater. He seemed to enjoy swimming much more than Andy expected.

Later back home by evening after a while, he saw Niko happily drawing while reciting a rhyme he mustve learnt from day-care, but quickly hid the piece of paper when he saw Andy approach him.

“Buddy are you hiding something from me?”

“Yes. No. I was dwawing.” His inability to lie was adorable but that was a lesson to be learnt for another day.

“Ooh I see bubba, but won’t you show me?”

“Will you wike it Wandi?”

He kneeled on the floor where Nikolai was sitting and placed a kiss on his forehead, “Of course buddy. I always do like your drawings.”

He slowly handed over the paper to Andy. He was not expecting this at all.

His artistic skills were on display, a house that completely resembled the house especially the outside wall colour, a car that resembled yours and his black Audi, stick figures with messily scribbled hair that looked like him, you, and Nikolai.

He couldn’t miss the title of the drawing. My Famile.

“Will you be with mommy and me?”

He was not prepared for this drawing; he was definitely not prepared for that question. He picked up the child and placed him on his lap, “I am with you two aren’t I buddy? I always will be. Never going anywhere.”

“B-but can you be my daddy and mommy’s hubba?” Nikolai’s eyes weren’t meeting Andy’s. This kid was back to back asking questions that Andy didn’t expect to be asked about.

“You really want that bub?”

“Yeah, you’re cool and nice and don’t hit mommy,” he whispered with pleading eyes that melted Andy’s heart.

He embraced him. Such a smart boy for his age. But Andy already had his answers prepared beforehand that didn’t need much thinking.

“One day buddy, when mom says yes.”

Epilogue:

This was heaven. The feeling of his broad chest and the bump of his tiny belly on your back, thrusting in and out of your slick heat in a frantic pace. His hand threaded over your locks, gripping them while your moans drowned into the soft pillow covers.

Andy’s slow recovery over his mental health got his hidden sexual drives back and it was nothing but a positive surprise for you.

“Andy!”

The coil in you was going to break and you couldn’t wait to relish the hot spurts of his cum he would spurt over your body (a dirty little ministration that he loved). He leaned in closer to your ear, hoarsely whispering nothing but dirty, filthy words. 

“You like that honey? You gonna cum for me?”

“G-gonna cum daddy.” (Another thing that found its way to the bedroom once Andy showed his kinky side to you.)

“Hold on baby, I’m also close mkay?”

Well, almost.

You never really believed in cockblockers and mood killers until you had a baby with Andy. It was nothing but the cries of your 10-month-old baby reverberating from the baby monitor placed on your side table.

Andy and you were removed from your sinful moment, feeling your love abruptly reducing his thrusts. You whined in annoyance; another orgasm missed this week, thanks to Jacoba.

“How many times has she cockblocked me?”

“Three." 

Andy pulled out of you and placed a kiss on your shoulder blade to go to the sounds of his crying baby, but only to be stopped by you. 

"Let me go-”

“Nuh uh you are not going in front of our baby with your raging boner Mr. Barber.”

Grinning at you, he saw how you swiftly put on his shirt lying on the floor and made up to the baby. The baby monitor came to alive again; the echoes of two distinct cries now.

After a while, when his raging boner died down a bit, he made himself decent and visited the nursery. Five-year-old Niko was more than happy to share his room with his little sister but panics every time he hears his sister cry. You didn’t have to worry about Niko worrying once you saw Andy comforting him.

“All good buddy? She has stopped crying.”

“Yeah papa, just got scared a bit. Her cries woke me up so-.”

“Its okay bub. You go sleep now, it’s just eight.” He tucked him to his bed and patted him to sleep. He went over to you, breast-feeding Jacoba. It was a joint decision, to name your baby after Jacob. It just felt right.

“She is such a needy baby isn’t she, taking my mamma bear from me?”

“Of course, she is Mr. Barber, she is after all a baby. A cute one.” You traced her cheek with your other hand. She had her fathers nose and your eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know Mrs. Barber, babies have their own agenda.” He winked at you right before kissing you on the cheek. “I’m gonna get you some chocolate milkshake once ya done putting her to bed okay?”

You replied with heart eyes, lucky to get this man as your husband.

Andy and Niko proposed to you, with the help of Niko’s drawing of course. But unlike any other conventional proposal, Andy didn’t put you on the spot.

He debated and did this, not because Jacoba was being nurtured inside of you when he popped the question, but because it was something him as well as Niko wanted.

To be a Family 

Niko clapped and screeched when he popped the question while your hormones took over you and you began to tear up. But much to his dismay he dozed off before he could know the outcome.

Completely unromantic, the proposal took turn to a healthy conversation and spoke over the insecurities over the institution of marriage and the obvious failure of your first ones; how the former broke off from a 20 year-old relationship and the latter had an experience that no woman had to go through.

“I want you to think about it okay?”

Andy’s hands were clasped by yours after a minute of silence. “What’s there to think about? The fact that we can have this conversation without blasting off our ugly emotions shows how perfect you are for me Andy.

You went over and sat over his lap, while he gently cupped the swell of your belly. “It’s a yes honey. I wanna be yours too.”

A small marriage ceremony at home; extremely simplistic to anyone’s taste but your neighbours and Niko’s grandparents were extremely supportive. No time for a honeymoon so Niko just went over to his grandparents for a couple of days while you two spent much more intimate, closer moments by chastising every room in the house.

Life for the Barbers went swell.

You remember Andy telling you that once you were in the other side of being in the prosecution stand, one could never go back to the profession of being an attorney. But as he grew with therapy, he realised the love he had for getting justice could never be erased.

It was hard bouncing back because of him having a dark spot on his reputation, but his restricted representation to children cases and his valid argument of “he didn’t actually kill anyone” impressed a few.

He got back on track with his few cases, while he had the time to balance caring for Nikolai and Jacoba.

Then came another news that you weren’t actually expecting. Andy soon gave you the news that his old house was being leased out, and you were just curious as to why it was being done.

“So, what do you think?”

“Why not sell this place?”

“Oh, I don’t know love. Something tells me we’ll need it in the future.”

Now that piqued to your interest even further. “What do you mean?”

Andy shrugged his shoulders in playful innocence, “When the time comes and you know, I save enough, we can merge these plots and make it a big home for our big family in the future?”

“Big family huh?” You couldn’t help but shove his shoulders playfully. Who knew into a year of marriage this sexy, witty hunk was thinking about a big picture?

Andy’s eyes twinkled, “I sense some hesitation Y/N.”

“Well yes?”

Face drooped so quickly that you didn’t know it was possible, “Oh well we can stop with Jacoba perhaps-”

You cut him off with wrapping your hands around his shoulders, his face instantly beaming when you giggled. “Nah bub. You are not going to save. We are. And maybe” you trailed his soft belly, “we don’t have to stop with Jacoba. But we got to do it before you get more than 100 strands of grey hair. I already see them popping up barber.” 

Another embrace of lips over excitement, looking forward to how this road takes you.

Few weeks later, the both of you stand in front of the now empty house.

“So, what next Mr. Barber?”

“We work, we love and cherish every moment Y/N.

“Such a sap you are Barber, who ever knew?” He laughed at that, pressing a kiss onto your forehead and linking your hands with his.

“Let’s go home honey, take me to our home.”

You wanted to laugh at his dramatics, asking you to take him home even if it’s just 20 steps away. But if Andrew Stephen Barber, the love of your life, asks you to take him home, you take him home.

–

a/n: Fin! Thank you all! Love you!

[springday-aus]

Hockey Player!AU with Mark

moodboard link

Group: NCT

Member: Mark Lee 

Genre: fluff, romance 

Additionally: college!au

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 2.3k 

→ Inspired by NCT U’s 90s Love! 

I’m gonna be completely honest: I don’t know shit about hockey so apologizes in advance

Mark is a left-winger for the team

he plays for his university’s team and they’re actually pretty good

within the three-ish years that he’s been on the team, they’ve won a couple of championships

it’s not really hard considering that Mark takes everything too seriously

(at least that’s what Donghyuk says during practice all the time)

Johnny somewhere: “okay Mark”

Yuta: “let’s not overreact Mark”

Taeyong: “leave my son alone”

Mark: “I’m a grown adult…”

Taeyong: “shhh”

since he used to play for his team back in hometown, he naturally joined the university’s team

he was a natural and everyone easily took a liking to him

especially since now they have someone to make fun of constantly

by they, I literally mean just Donghyuk

I’m just kidding—it’s all in good fun because it just shows how close they are

Mark is just that one college kid that’s still cute even when he’s not a freshman anymore

the other team members still treat him like the youngest even though YangYang and Sungchan are like

👁👄👁 hello ?

speaking of which, their teamwork is incredible and it shows through their games

and, on the rare occasions that they don’t win, they still have dinner together afterwards

well, it’s less of dinner and more of drinks and strategizing what went wrong—which are kind of depressing but it’s fine

at least that’s what Sicheng says as captain, but it sounds like denial

anyways, even though Ten is the co-captain, they all work to make their play plan together

they all contribute ideas, especially since they’ve been in the positions they’ve been in for, like, ever

anyways

again, Mark is like really good

so you know he got that bombass scholarship

and that’s what really pushes him to do well bc let’s be real, college is e x p e n s i v e

he also likes ice skating in general because the cold reminds him of home

so he’s one of those hockey players that also likes figures skaters and it’s funny because he gets so many weird looks from the others

(altho, Jeno goes with him sometimes bc he’s nice)

back to what I was saying tho: Mark is really good

despite his personality, he’s a bit more aggressive on the ice—considering he’s a forward

Donghyuk, the right-winger: he makes sense

there’s the passive aggressive-ness

Mark? who knew he had some strength to him when it’s actually applied

seriously, have you seen his thighs?

speaking of which, the team serves a lot of looks

which means a lot of speculators that show up to the games

which means lots of fans

people typically come for the looks, but then stay for the games bc the team is very underrated

they actually win games and everything but like

advertising for the team? nonexistent

@stupid college funding distributions that focus on mediocre sports like football

so, where do you fall into the mix? you’re an og stan

you’ve been in the stands since you entered university

it didn’t even have anything to do with the members (altho, it is nice to have some eye-candy)

you just……… like hockey

even if you don’t understand much about it

it’s just… interesting to watch

so, whenever the season rolls around, you go to the games

but to say over the years that you didn’t develop a particular attachment to our boy Mark…… is an absolute lie

so, do you have a crush on Mark?

yes

but also like

who doesn’t have a crush on Mark

this man is literally so talented and nice and adorable and he just makes you want to take care of him all the time and ugh

one of your friends went to a game with you and literally was just like “oh he’s cute”

You: “we know”

he’s def one of those guys who everyone has or has had a crush on at some point

and you are no different

the thing is that you are fine with not ever confessing because you’re happy with just being on the sidelines because you’ve. literally. just been on the sidelines…

the idea of confessing feels ridiculous bc realistically, what would you mean to some guy that literally e v e r y person has a crush on?

the thing is though is that Mark knows you

at least, he knows of your presence

if he didn’t, it would be embarrassing considering that you come to every game - he’s got loyalty unless some people

Ten: “who?”

Mark: “dude”

Donghyuk: “is this another one of your imaginary friends?”

Mark: “I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE”

jkjk , they all kind of know you, considering you’re one of the more consistent faces since they’ve been playing in these games (primarily the home ones bc free tickets for students but still)

you also don’t paint your face or anything—you just show up in your university sweatshirt with a couple of those foam light up sticks or something

again, not that wild like signs with his face or anything

you’re just…. a spectator

but yeah, Mark knows of you as a loyal fan ?

who also is kind of cute when you’re cheering for them

I want to emphasize that you have gone to, like, nearly every game, but the main ones you’ve *always* have gone to are the home games bc they’re more convenient

or the final games bc hello

they’re the finals, why the fuck would you miss the finals

I emphasize this because, when you’ve suddenly gone down with the flu, you literally cannot make it to the finals championship game

you thought: no one was gonna notice your absence anyways

haha, you thought

anyways

your friends figured you were sick from the beginning and were like, my friend, it’s flu season, stay away from me and pls stay at home

(wash your hands kids, it’s still covid season)

so you didn’t go and stayed in and binged watched iCarly or something

meanwhile, during the game, Mark was like

where... where are you???

so homeboy is highkey distracted and lowkey worried bc did you die???

(you were dying bc of your clogged nostrils, but otherwise, no)

they somehow managed to win by a couple of points so it was kind of fine

but the teasing was increased by all of Mark’s friends

i.e. Johnny, Donghyuk, Jaehyun, and everyone else

come on, it’s so easy to make fun of him

but like he doesn’t care about any of it bc he was worried about you

which got him thinking

why is he worried about someone whose name he doesn’t even know? is there something more? why is there something more? he literally doesn’t know you? except that you come to the games and you’re really cute cheering him on? what is this?

you know, ✨just Mark things✨

this bothered him for quite a bit more than he liked to admit

and it’s about a couple of days later

things are normal and you don’t feel like everything is dripping out of your nose

until you’re walking through campus from your class

and there’s some footsteps running from behind you that makes you coil up into a semi-standing ball bc you thought a bunch of frat boys were just excited or some shit

but then the footsteps stop at you and you’re standing there, wide-eyed

in front of an out of breath Mark

he was walking out of his class with Jaemin and he spotted you from across the quad

and immediately ran to you

Jaemin: I was talking but okay

this isn’t about you Jaemin

anyways

Mark is in front of you, panting and you’re just like sir?

You: “how are you out of breath? aren’t you an athlete?”

Mark: “oh my God, you’re just like Donghyuk”

you give him a bit of time (and some water bc he seemed like he needed it)

and once he’s caught his breath, he stands up and blurts it out

Mark: “what happened to you during the championship?”

You: “....................... what?”

seeing you blink at him confused, he can feel his ears reddening when he’s realized the situation he’s put himself into

Mark: “um, I just”

Mark: “I noticed that you weren’t at the game”

You: still confused bc how does he know about you

You: “huh?”

Mark: oh my God this is the wrong person, want to die

Mark: “you know what, I have the wrong person, I’m just gonna bounce I am so sorry—”

he starts backing up, but you aren’t letting him escape

You: “whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa, hold up hold up”

You: “I didn’t even know that you knew that I knew you”

You: “wait, did you run here just to ask me that?”

Mark is full on flushed at this point bc of all the questions and realizations and it’s all crashing down on him all too soon

and now you have this mischievous look in your eyes that remind him of Ten when he’s clowning Doyoung and he feels like he’s made a mistake

a good mistake but still a mistake

You: “is it?”

Mark: “well, you like, show up to all of our games and you didn’t go to the finals so I didn’t know if anything happened”

You: “oh, I got sick and I figured I shouldn’t be going into giant crowds while having my insides die internally”

You: “but, I did hear from my friends, congrats btw”

Mark: “thanks”

Mark: “are you feeling better tho?”

You: “yeah, but like, my throat is still kind of shitty”

Mark: “oh, if you want, I have a couple of friends who might be able to cook something up for your throat”

Mark: “I’d offer to make something, but Kun doesn’t let me in the kitchen anymore after finding out about the egg incident”

You: “the egg incident?”

Mark: “I can’t cook, like. at all.”

You: “I think I’m good, I was just gonna go get some tea to make it less scratchy or something”

Mark: “I can walk you?”

You: “sure”

so you two go to a cafe or something for you to get some warm tea and you two end up talking and you get to know each other a bit

and then you end up trading numbers and you make some time together

since Mark doesn’t have to go to practice until the next season, his time has opened up considerably

sometimes you study together

other times, you go check out some other places nearby campus

(eventually, you did get to try Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Kun’s food, to which there was no turning back at that point bc they make the best kind of food—free)

you’re basically dating at this point and his friends know you as his significant other so

Chenle: “is (Y/N) gonna be here?”

Mark: “no? it’s our movie night”

Donghyuk: “aren’t you dating tho?”

Mark: “what”

he told you he took it casually and cool, but considering how red his ears were getting when he told you………………. cute

Mark: “c-can you believe they thought we were dating?”

You: “is that not what we’re doing?”

Mark: “what?”

you both established your relationship after that and Mark got a lot more shy and it’s super adorable bc it makes you wanna take care of him and ugh

he’s precious okay

also cut to him trying to ask the other guys for advice, but then he gets embarrassed as Johnny and Ten tries to educate him about love

or how Lucas gives him cheesy lines to use on you

these boys are having a field day and Xiaojun and Doyoung have never felt more at peace

anyways

def the nervous type that he can’t even hold your hand and keeps asking if it’s okay

so you’re the top of this relationship bc he’s a shy lil boy

after a bit tho, he gets more comfortable and it’s great

he’ll get teased often right? when it happens in front of you, he just runs to you with a whine of your name and buries his face into your neck

and you end up yelling at someone

it’s cute tho

bc they def see you both as an adorable couple

when the hockey season starts rolling around again, you def spend more time at the practices—whether you’re there to watch, do your homework, or just help motivate him to play better

you started dressing up more too, especially since he gave you his jersey so you started wearing them to the games (and also face paint bc Jungwoo had some extra for an unknown reason)

and you make Mark Lee signs and it’s super cute

Sicheng also invites you to the afterparty dinners bc why not

also, remember that thing I said about watching figure skaters?

you two watch the Olympics for that and it’s like tradition now for you two to settle in front of the tv with snacks and watch them skate

so, since he’s an athlete, he has to be careful with his body bc then like scholarship will go poof

that means some of your dates might be physically limited

like he’ll go mini-golfing with you, but he can’t go to like self-defense classes with you

he’ll go to support you but if his foot gets busted, his coach and the rest of the team will be on his ass and he feels a bit bad about it but like you understand

considering that you absolutely refuse to get on the ice bc hockey is hard people

speaking of hockey, you told Mark he’s hot when he plays and he was FLUSHED

bc like the look in his eyes and the way he carries himself…. reminds you of when you’re doing some more………...steamy activities

anyways, stan Mark Lee

he’s a sweetheart who works so hard and you’re there to provide him with lots of love

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.2

hell is empty, and all the devils are here

Chapter One

This is the second chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Spencer's disordered and depressed thoughts were introduced, he was shot, Foyet stabbed Hotch, and Spencer ended up alone in his apartment :(

In This Chapter: we get to see Hotch's view of the events of early season five.

TW: aftermath of violence, recovery, spousal death, grief/mourning

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me: [he] cried, 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here.' — William Shakespeare, The Tempest

The team is working on the case.

Aaron tries desperately to remember this when the fear starts to rise in his chest again, squashing his lungs and pressing violently against his already groaning heart. The team is working on the case, they always solve the case, and he trusts them with his life because, at the end of the day, that’s what’s at stake here, isn’t it? Haley and Jack are all he has in this world; he absolutely cannot lose them.

The team is working on the case.

Frustration builds as he lays in a hospital bed, completely incapacitated during the most important case of his life, and it’s only made worse by the knowledge that Spencer is hurt, too. He was absolutely furious when he eventually found out after asking his whereabouts on his third day of hospitalisation, having realised he hadn’t seen him once at the hospital.

Rossi had deliberately omitted Spencer being shot from his account of the case. Why, he had no idea. Did he not think it important that one of their own was seriously injured? Aaron hopes not. Did he think he was unable to handle the information at that point? Certainly more probable, but still infuriating.

It was all exacerbated by the guilty expression on JJ’s face when he asked who’d been visiting him. She’d told him that there hadn’t been time, that they were working on the case 24/7, that Penelope had heard from him and he was fine, but it wasn't enough to satiate his rising anger. Aaron doesn’t quite understand the blistering fury he still feels when he thinks about Spencer injured and alone, abandoned by his team, but he expects it’s because he still feels protective over the youngest member of the team.

That’s almost definitely it.

He takes a month off from work, but he has no idea what to do with himself, especially once he's discharged from hospital and returns to a lonely apartment in which he was brutally attacked by the FBI’s Most Wanted Serial Killer. He’s miserable without seeing Jack regularly and fearful of the length of time he’ll have to wait until he can see him and Haley again as he tries desperately not to think of the possibility that he may never see them again.

A lot of time is spent touring his DVD and box set collections and passing the time by cooking and exercising as much as his healing body will allow him. Every functional moment, every spare shred of brain power he has to spend, though, is directed at the Foyet case.

Finding Nemo is playing on the TV when there’s a knock at the door a week into his stay at home — admittedly, his collection is not all that large and he’d exhausted the more age-appropriate films far too quickly — so he turns it off and peels his exhausted bones off the couch. Most of the team have dropped by at various points, bringing food and gifts and comfort in the worst time of his life, so he’s expecting Emily or Rossi or JJ, but instead, it’s Spencer standing on his doorstep.

He doesn’t have the time to school his expression so his surprise is written all over his face, and Spencer must see it because he immediately cringes and deflates, as though suddenly doubting whether showing up out of the blue was a good idea after all.

“Hi.” Aaron smiles welcomingly to try and counter the negative thoughts that are almost certainly worming their way into Spencer’s mind. “Come in.” He steps aside and allows him to hobble awkwardly into the living room, his crutches dragging slightly along the carpet, the telltale sign of someone not quite accustomed to them yet.

“I hope it’s alright I came,” Spencer says shyly, almost apologetic. “I should have texted but I dropped my phone under the sofa and I can’t get down on the floor to retrieve it.” He blushes at his admission but gratefully accepts Aaron’s invitation to sit down.

Aaron smiles as warmly as he can manage, joining him on the couch. “You're fine, don't worry; it’s not like I’m up to much. I’m just happy to have some company.” He almost confesses that he was watching a children’s film before Spencer showed up, but decides that’s perhaps revealing just a little too much. “How have you been doing? I did message you, but I suppose your phone gathering dust under a couch explains the lack of a response.”

“You did?” Spencer’s eyes meet his and he looks utterly bewildered for some reason, seemingly surprised that Aaron would do such a thing. “Sorry, I— yes, that would be why, uh.” He looks down, clearly trying to gather himself as he plays with his fingers. “I’m fine, though. Obviously, the leg is a little sore, but. I’ll be back to work on Monday.”

“Good,” he replies, though he knows a gunshot wound will still be more than a little sore only two weeks after the initial injury. “How long do you have that?” He gestures vaguely to the brace around Spencer’s left leg.

“Not really sure,” Spencer says, looking sort of bemused by the contraption. “It’s pretty inconvenient, so I hope it isn’t too long.”

Aaron can’t help but smile at the small grin on Spencer’s face as he looks down at the brace. It looks… genuine. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to contemplate why that’s so endearingly surprising. “Are you looking forward to going back?” he asks, settling back into the couch cushions as he feels his muscles protest against his strained position.

Spencer seems to struggle for a response, unsure how to answer him. If he wasn’t so damn exhausted he might try and figure this slightly odd behaviour out, but the inherently complicated puzzle that is Spencer Reid feels like one too many right now. “I’m looking forward to not being quite so bored,” he eventually replies with a short, self-deprecating laugh. Aaron almost flinches at the sound, so foreign for Spencer’s gentle soul.

He’s fiddling with his crutches and the profiler in Aaron is screaming at him to decode what’s going on, but he forces himself to push it to the side. Spencer is a capable man. He’ll be fine. Aaron, on the other hand, needs to try and save his energy for his family.

“I can understand that,” Aaron says diplomatically, careful to not reply too emphatically one way or another. “The boredom’s crippling sometimes. Thankfully, the team coming round has been saving me from having to watch too many movies.”

Spencer seems to sort of shutter down as the words leave his mouth for reasons he doesn’t know or comprehend, but he does know that the resulting silence is awkward and he feels like he’s stuck his foot in his mouth by saying something totally innocuous. Has he had a falling out with someone or something? Is it something to do with not having many visitors in the hospital? He wouldn't blame him at all if that's still a sore spot.

“I’m going to have a coffee, I think,” he says, getting up carefully from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen despite the pain in his torso begging him to sit down. “Do you need anything?”

Spencer’s head snaps up, suddenly back and engaged. “Uh, no, I’m alright,” he says, and he sounds almost… choked up? “I should probably get going, anyway.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Aaron says, a little surprised. His mind is too foggy with pain and grief to process the microexpressions and endlessly odd behaviours Spencer is exhibiting. He knows how much Spencer appreciates his company usually, so his leaving so soon is just wrong.

He doesn’t want him to go, he loves spending time with the younger man, and even if he is acting a little strangely, he’d much rather Spencer be with him than away from him, especially when the world seems so much more personally dangerous than it was before. At least if Spencer is close to him then he knows he’s safe, and that’s all he deserves, really. To be safe.

“Say hello to the team from me,” he says, fumbling with the door handle and awkwardly making his way out. He briefly turns back, “bye, Hotch,” before he’s closing the door behind him. Aaron can hear the plastic click of the crutches on the linoleum of the corridor as he hurries away from the apartment.

Before he can think much of it, though, he’s drawn to the couch, exhaustion overtaking his body. He’s asleep in seconds.

Eventually, he goes back to work and for a small amount of time, things seem like they’re going to be okay. Emily picks him up and takes him in, Penelope gives him homemade cookies — not that he didn’t already have an ample supply of the fruits of her kitchen waiting to be eaten in his fridge — and sure, he’s a little stressed and abrasive throughout the first case, but no-one holds it against him. It’s a little tricky when he doesn’t manage to stop Darin Call from shooting his father, but he’s calmed down by the time Emily walks him back to his apartment.

“He’s not alone,” she says as they stand in his small living room, talking about Call but looking rather pointedly in his direction. They both know what she means.

Penelope and Sam, the marshall looking after his family, help him see Jack again on his 4th birthday — granted, over one of her many computer screens — and he has to swallow down a sob at the sight of him swinging in the park, looking happy as ever. He tries to be furious at Haley for uprooting Jack again, causing them to move to a halfway house because of a few phone calls to her mother, but there’s nothing left in him. Anger at the inevitable takes energy he simply doesn’t have. It’s why he simply accepted it when the money for the counter-surveillance against Foyet ran out. Fighting seems pointless.

He does manage to get angry, though, when he finds out Spencer lied to him by telling him he was cleared to travel when he wasn’t. He’d put himself at risk for deep vein thrombosis or other complications, so he calls him out as soon as the initial debrief ends. He looks sort of relieved to be staying behind with Penelope, which is a little strange since he’s always so eager to be in the thick of the action, but he brushes it off and they get on with yet another case.

Of course, it’s significantly harder to deal with when the Bureau questions him as Unit Chief of his beloved team. He takes a step back for the sake of the team, and he’s glad he does, but things don’t feel quite so good, quite so positive. He’s suddenly following Morgan’s directions instead of giving them, no longer a leader, and it’s… humiliating.

Still, he trusts Morgan. He trusts the team in general, and they still solve cases, and they still gel together like a well-oiled machine. Things are okay. There’s still hope.

But then.

Then Karl Arnold sends him a message.

Then he agonises, fights, wrestles, swims against the current to try and save his family in time.

Then Haley dies.

🌧

Aaron thanks every god he doesn’t believe in that Jack is too little to really understand what’s happened. He knows Mommy isn’t around anymore, he knows something bad happened, that Daddy is sad, but beyond that, he has no real comprehension of the situation.

In the first days after Haley’s death, he spends a lot of time cuddled up in bed, holding Jack as close to him as he can, hugging close all he has left of his ex-wife, desperately gripping onto the one person he loves more than anything else in this world.

Once he’s cleared by the Bureau, he can at least breathe a little easier in knowing his job is safe; he can provide for his baby boy. What follows, however, is less pleasant than job security.

Watching his team cry at her funeral and seeing Haley’s family in pieces almost does him in. He’s not usually the kind of man to show emotion, but he can’t help swallowing a choked sob as he tells everyone gathered just how incredible Haley was, how lucky he and Jack and everyone who knew her were, and just how much he loved her.

“If Haley were with us today, she would ask us not to mourn her death but to celebrate her life. She would tell us… she would tell us to love our families unconditionally, and to hold them close because, in the end, they’re all that matter.”

As he reads his speech, he can’t help but think of his team. For years, they've been his second family — arguably, as much as it pains him to admit it, the family he prioritised the most — and now, they're all he and Jack have. All of them have reminded him of that over the past few days, between helping with funeral arrangements and making food for them both, constant check-ups and distractions and messages of love and support. Having his back in the moment that mattered most.

“Okay, you can go ahead,” he murmurs to Jack as he lifts him up onto his hip, the last two standing at her coffin. He watches as his son places his white rose on his mother’s coffin before following suit, stomach constricting with grief as he does so. “Blow Mommy a kiss.”

And he walks, his son clutched desperately in his arms, towards the wake.

(The team leaves the funeral, called to a case that — despite everything that’s happened — he can’t help but long to be a part of even if he knows he’d be no use right now, lost in the haze of grief and the massive life change that is suddenly being a single parent, the sole carer for his son.

He uses the time off to pack Jack’s things and move them into his own flat, trying as hard as he can to keep life as normal as possible for a little boy who just lost his mom. Actually having time to be with Jack feels like the only possible good thing to come out of this situation, and he tries to be present in the moment as much as humanly possible, grateful for every second he spends chattering away with him about the dramas and dilemmas of being four-years-old, or playing dinosaurs with him, or stroking his hair while he falls asleep.

Strauss visits, says hello to Jack, and then offers him early retirement. With a heavy heart, he promises he’ll think about it.

Jessica offers to stay with Jack while he’s away. He calls Strauss, and he declines.)

Almost as soon as the team gets back from their case in Tennessee, Spencer shows up again. This time he’s only leaning heavily on a cane instead of awkwardly wrestling against two crutches, and his brace is gone.

“Hi,” he breathes, smiling hesitantly at Hotch. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced again. This time I don’t have a dusty phone to use as an excuse, I just wanted to come as soon as possible and see how you and Jack were doing.”

“It’s fine, Spencer, don’t worry,” he says reassuringly, opening the door wide enough to allow him into the sitting room. Truthfully, he’s glad he’s turned up. Spencer’s a soothing presence; innocent, almost, in his openness and honesty, how trusting he is of everyone around him despite how hurt he’s been in the past. And while the others always scoff and groan at his academic and overly factual rambles, he’s rather fond of them.

“I don’t know if you heard,” he says as he takes a seat on Aaron’s sofa again, “but we solved the case.” His leg is clearly bothering him still: he’s subconsciously rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers and his facial expressions are showing subtle indicators of pain.

“I never doubted it,” Aaron says, face soft and open, happy to have Spencer here. He joins him on the couch. “How is it, working cases with the injury?” He wonders whether asking about work will have the same response as before, but he seems slightly calmer this time around. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss when he’d gone back, though he had, of course, been a little preoccupied; there's plenty he could have missed.

Spencer considers for a moment, looking marginally more subdued than the last time he’d sat on his sofa. “It’s… not easy, but I’m sort of used to it now. I don’t mind sitting out the fieldwork too much; besides, I get to talk to Penelope more.” He looks like he’s not saying something, averting his eyes as he talks but Aaron doesn’t push. He doesn’t want Spencer to bolt, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye on him when he eventually gets back to work again. “I heard through the grapevine that Strauss offered you retirement.”

He looks up at Aaron with wide, hesitant eyes and for a moment, his heart clenches tightly, a rush of some emotion he can’t quite place flooding his chest and squeezing the breath out of him. It’s only for a second: the moment’s over before he can actually process it, but it leaves him floundering for a response.

“I— ah, yes. She did,” he affirms, nodding his head, “but I declined.”

“You did?” Spencer asks, suddenly looking far brighter and another flash of that feeling flares in his chest.

As such, he can’t help the fond, private smile that spreads across his face. “I did.”

Spencer looks like he’s about to say something else but he’s interrupted by Jack dashing into the room, flying his toy plane around the room. As soon as he spots Spencer on the sofa, he dashes over, eager to show off his toy.

“Wow, that’s amazing, buddy,” Spencer says, looking as interested in a wooden replica of an aeroplane as an extremely well-educated adult possibly could. That’s probably because, Aaron thinks with a smile, he actually is.

Before Aaron knows it, he’s watching him be dragged towards his son’s new bedroom to inspect all his other toys. Jack has always loved Spencer and Spencer has always loved Jack, sharing a bond over an interest in all things scientific and mechanical, albeit at vastly different levels.

He hadn’t noticed how dull Spencer’s been looking until he brightens so considerably as soon as Jack is engaging with him, and his brows furrow. Trusting Jack to keep Spencer well entertained for the next few minutes, he fills a glass with water and leans against the counter of the kitchen, sipping it quietly as he thinks it over.

Now that he considers it properly, Spencer has seemed rather downcast and far quieter than usual recently. Not that he’d had the energy to address it, or even really clock it, the last time Spencer had turned up at his apartment, but his weird, abrupt departure was clearly triggered by discussion of the team. He starts to get some food out for lunch as he resolves to keep a much closer eye on things when he gets back to work.

He only thinks it over for a few more minutes before Spencer emerges into the kitchen, one hand clutching his cane and another gently holding Jack’s. He’s still bombarding him with questions about planes and trains and cars, but Spencer fields them expertly, managing to actually get an answer in before another question takes its place, a skill Aaron has yet to master. His chest clenches for the third time in the small period Spencer’s been in his flat as he watches the two together.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” he offers, taking in Spencer’s small frame and dark eye bags; he can’t help the protective desire to feed him and make sure he’s happy and healthy.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Spencer says, looking pleased with the offer, mouth twisting into a little smile. Aaron probably shouldn’t feel quite so delighted at his acceptance, but he brushes it aside and turns to face his son, who is watching them curiously.

“Hey Jack,” he says, crouching down to face him, “how about we get you some lunch, yeah? You can continue asking Spencer some questions while we eat. How does that sound?”

Watching Jack’s face light up as he nods happily and looking up to see Spencer’s small smile still firmly pasted on his face makes him feel, for the first time since Haley died, like there’s a future for him. A good one.

Chapter Three

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you all, see you next Saturday! <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 (taglist form)

[thewriterisalwayswrite]

Bad Choices

Summary: Logan has learned to ignore that little voice in his head that tells him when he is about to do something dumb. Fortunately, Remus is more than happy to fill in for said voice.

Pairings: Intrulogical

TW: Self-harm, needles, blood, Logan being kind of stupid

Word count: 1259

AO3

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There may have still been a very small voice in the back of his head that told him this idea was not a great one, but he’d learned to ignore it a long time ago. No logic in little voices that told you what not to do. No sense in listening to them.

As Logan carefully set up his supplies for his most recent experiment, he diligently ignored said warnings. While this experiment could (and probably would) put him out of commission for a few days, he wouldn’t die. He wasn’t even sure if he could die, but that was a question to be tested another day.

It was worth it, whatever happened. Roman had been losing far too much blood for his liking after frivolous run-ins with fantasy creatures, so Logan was exploring how blood loss would affect a side.

Unfortunately, his only test subject seemed to be himself. He wouldn’t subject the others to that, not even Janus. Not even after he’d been impersonated twice.

Finishing prepping his gear, he slowly stood. This was the last thing he had to do before he locked the door.

He had to check individually with each of the other sides to ensure they didn’t need anything before he disappeared for a couple days.

Patton said yes, he needed a hug, which Logan was quick to oblige, albeit a little uncomfortable.

Roman needed a schedule done, which Logan immediately handed over. He had finished it earlier that day.

Virgil said he didn’t need anything and closed the door in his face, which would have been offensive had it been anyone else.

Janus said yes , he absolutely did need something and why was Logan asking him ?

Remus, oddly enough, gave him a suspicious look before requesting something that caused even Logan to sigh and roll his eyes, annoyed.

When he returned to his own room, he ensured it was completely blocked off with a clear and concise note on the door. Then he began.

After changing into a soft black t-shirt and sweatpants, he began connecting himself with the machines he’d set up to monitor how he was doing. He fitted a breathing mask onto his face to be sure to keep his breath even and controlled. He then cleaned a small patch on his arm before finding a vein and inserting the needle.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before switching on the machine, watching the clear tube fill with blood as it was transported to a container that would make it easy to measure.

He felt himself get light-headed and dazed as he continued to draw blood. This was something he’d expected, a common side effect reported by the twins after copious injury.

He allowed himself to lie down on the bed he’d prepared, fully expecting to lose consciousness at some point. The machine would not stop unless it detected signs of a serious threat to his life. In that case it would shut off, log how much blood had been collected, then start putting it back into his soon-to-be-lifeless body.

Foolproof, right? He was very proud of his advanced machines and convoluted plans.

As he laid there, breath even and arm stinging, he slowly began to see black spots in his vision. Then green flashing lights, bigger black spots, and he could no longer feel his head as reality slipped away.

Remus had done enough dumb things in his life to know when someone else was doing one. And Logan definitely was. There were little tells. In his eyes, in his voice, his posture. Remus had spent a long time watching Logan, learning them. He also knew the others’, of course, but Logan’s were the most concerning. He did stupid things, and then tried to cover for himself by saying it was ‘for science’.

Bullshit. Logan hadn’t needed to starve himself ‘for science’, or intentionally contract illness to see how it would affect his intellectual abilities ‘for science’. Logan was just dumb, and probably depressed, and apperently needed a full-time babysitter. Which was a role that Remus apparently had to now fill in.

Whatever it was, he should probably get going soon. He found his way to Logan’s door, and, ignoring his note, tried to force it open. Then he tried to sink inside. Then he tried to will the door out of existence. Then he willed an ax into existence and broke it down. At least that worked. He could always fix it later. Or now. With a lazy wave of his hand, the door was back on its hinges, and he was inside Logic’s room.

When he found Logan himself, he sighed, disappointed. Removing one’s own blood until one passes out is not a very intelligent course of action.

And by that of course Remus meant that it was really fucking stupid. Tempted as he was to just rip out the needle and watch the blood spill, he had to go about this in a smart way.

Ugh. Smart. Not his strong suit. But he had to fill in for Logan, who was supposed to be the smart one but bailed.

He started poking around on one of the screens until he managed to reverse the effects, returning Logan’s blood to his body. He did not care if he was ‘messing up’ a ‘science experiment’, this was not the way to go about something like that.

Once all of Logan’s blood was back inside him, Remus carefully disconnected all the machines and monitors, snapping them away and watching Logan peacefully asleep, chest rising and falling as normal.

Remus placed his hands on Logan’s shoulders and shook him.

After a moment of violent shaking, Logan came to, coughing and spluttering before settling down and looking up at Remus. “What hap’nd?” he asked blearily, looking around for his missing equipment.

That was when Remus slapped him, concern and fear gone and replaced with anger for doing that to himself. Logan sounded very affronted.

“What was that ?”

“No, that’s what I should be asking you . Where on earth did you get it in your head that this was a good idea?”

“You’ve done worse things,” Logan muttered.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s my job , wise guy. Yours is to be sensible and smart. Do you think that was either of those things?”

Logan grinned weakly at hearing Remus rant like a concerned and upset parent.

“Okay dad.”

Remus grinned, almost like his usual grin, just a bit more subdued. “Dad? That would be Pat. Try daddy.”

Logan sighed. “I regret saying anything.”

Remus laughed, a big, loud laugh, and Logan was relieved to see he was relaxing. When Logan tried to stand, though, he did get serious again quickly.

“You’re staying right there until I clear you. I’m not joking with you, Logan. That could have been really risky.”

Logan sighed. “I know. I just… I needed to, to know how to help Roman, and my only subject was myself, and-”

Remus interrupted. “Next time, use me. You know it doesn’t bother me.”

Logan gasped a little. “No, I would never- oh.”

Point made, Remus smiled gently. “Don’t do anything on yourself you wouldn’t do on me, okay?”

Logan smiled. “Fair. I’ll try.”

“You better do more than try.”

Logan smiled. “For you, sure. Since it is, for some odd reason, so important to you.”

Remus grinned again. “That’s right. Since you seem to be incapable of doing it for yourself. Which we’ll talk about later, by the way. But for now, just relax.”

And Logan did.

[uponrightful]

Second Chance Ch. 6

Read Chapter Five Here

Warnings: Injury, Angry/Sad/Confused/Depressed? Din, Cursing, Bad Guys Die in canonical ways & as always my terrible editing.)

Authors Note: I have no idea what possessed me have such a fucking sad chapter. (Insert Fair Warning Here) But not only did I personally need this, the plot needed this. 

Word Count: 11.5K

Mando woke up to the low ambient noise of his quarters funneling through the amplified speakers in his helmet pressing up against his ears. His body felt stiff, and his mind felt fuzzy from the unusual amount of sleep he’d somehow allowed himself to have. The windowless hull afforded him the luxury of not being able to discern daylight from dark and the deflector mods for some reason had darkened his HUD. With a low grunt he reached for his vambrace with his opposite hand and adjusted the brightness on his display before hauling himself back to his feet with another defeated sigh. His swim with the girl still weighed heavily on his mind despite his long sleep and as he walked into the empty hull the silence surrounding him only made his conscience weigh heavier. The door to the girl’s room was swung wide open with no sign of her boots, or her anywhere to be seen. Only an empty can of soup sitting next to her bed gave Mando any sign that she’d been on the ship any time in the last couple hours.

He knew better than to think she wasn’t confused with him, but that didn’t help his own confusion when it came to how easily she affected him. With an empty ship he took the opportunity to find some food for himself and quickly get it down his throat ignoring the opportunity to fully remove his helmet in the chance that she did come back soon. Glancing over the ration stock he took note of its reorganization, the corners of his mouth twitching up in appreciativeness of the unnecessary job she’d completed. After a couple checks of the Slave, he made his way to the cockpit in a habitual routine of checking fuel and water levels before noticing the bright light flashing on the comm link. He felt the hair on his neck raise as he stood looking at the anomalous sight of a missed comm.      

As unusual as it was he pressed the strobing light, bracing himself for what was to come. His stiff muscles stayed bunched in anticipation until he saw a familiar green and red Mando helmet staring back at him through the blue tint of the HUD. Boba Fett and a his gruff tone urged him to respond at his soonest -convenient or otherwise- opportunity, letting Mando know just how irritated he was in the strict posture he held.

Begrudgingly, he turned to look towards the ladder to the hull and listened for any sign of the girl’s approach before connecting to Fett’s last link. Glancing back towards the ladder again, hoping that she wouldn’t walk in right in the middle of this unexpected conversation and get caught in the middle of Fett’s -admittedly- unavoidable charm.

“Find someone better to talk to last night?” Mando could sense Fett’s irriation and mocking in the strict sound of his tone. “Maybe you’ve found someone to warm up that bed you’re not doubt not sleeping in.”  

“Why complain if you’re the one wasting time?” he barked back with impatience.

“A group of Hothian’s came looking for you, asking questions about a beskar Mando and a little slip of a girl he was keeping hostage.” Fett almost chuckled after mentioning the girl, finding humor in the terrible reasoning for the girl being with him. “Of course there was no one with any helpful information or a sighing… but that didn’t keep them from upsetting a few of my contacts.” He tone settled back down, lulling back into a more business-like tone that unsettled Mando more than his typical grumbling.

“Did they talk to you?” Another bad feeling crept up Mando’s back and settled at the nape of his neck, biting hard into his conscious.

“I hardly blend in.” he remarked, tilting his head down to motion towards the helmet. “I said there was no Mandalorian for parsecs. They were more than ready to leave with a unfriendly warning.”

“Combative?” he questioned, watching as Fett’s shoulders sagged as he blew out a breath.

“Approaching anyone with blasters on a foreign planet is kriffing unusual… but that didn’t keep them from shoving them in anyone’s face that looked suspicious enough.”

“You didn’t lie. We’re perfectly safe here.” Telling Fett their exact location wasn’t necessary, even if the other Mando was simply trying to warn them.

“That’s bantha shit. And from the way you keep looking over your shoulder I expect you know it to.” He pointed into the holocall transponder, straightening his posture with a satisfied smirk perceivable on his shielded face. “You’ll receive encoded coordinates in the next minutes. I expect you can read Mando’a.”

“I’m not leaving without kriffing good reason for it.” Mando was aware of how his pride was getting the best of him. Fett wasn’t overacting, but it wasn’t sitting right with him that Boba was keeping such close tabs on him and the girl for no good reason other than personal intrest.

“My offer stands. I expect you’re in an uncharted sector, but that only deters the Imperials. Anyone after you certainly knows their way around all of the little hiding places you’ve found rat hunting.”

Mando and Fett stood silent in a battle of wills, completely content to wait one another out until the other conceded. However Fett was the first to break this time, growling impatiently when the familiar sound of Cleeah’s voice echoed from in the distance. Mando couldn’t make out the entire sentence, but she sounded like she was in a hurry. No doubt Fett was leaving Coruscant before the Hothian’s came knocking for a follow-up interrogation. Even in the best of circumstances Fett wasn’t willing to risk his posh hideaway under any conditions. He surmised that Fett was inviting them to a secondary location; One where Mando was unhappily admitting to being safer than anywhere he’d taken the girl up to this point.

“Mando’a.” It was all Fett said before the holo disappeared and Mando was left to decide on whether or not to leave.

***

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

A walk would clear her mind. After all, it was too pretty of a morning to waste it sitting on the ship.

Mando weighed heavily on the her mind, more so than she’d ever anticipated. He was the embodiment of emotional whiplash, steeled over from any real infiltration by the thick glittering beskar jacketing him. She tried her best to gauge his moods and respond accordingly but the more she thought she understood, the Mandalorian seemed more than happy to prove otherwise. Mando had a knack for using her lack of control against her in the worst moments, leaving her with more than a knotted up stomach and tangible mortification. The waterfall hadn’t been an accident, he was the one who said he would teach her… but after he’d shown interest it immediately dissolved like sugar in a hot cup of tea. It wasn’t like she could see through that kriffing visor of his; something kept her from acting on the obvious -yet confusing-  ways he acted around her.

He must believe that she wasn’t good enough.

The girl’s stomach dropped at the thought of him preferring someone else to her even though it was a ridiculous idea in the first place. She didn’t belong to him, or vice versa so it shouldn’t really matter anyways. Mando was a man with undeniable magnetism no matter if you hated him -or had began to develop a certain liking- for the bounty hunter. She wasn’t jealous, but after hours of imagining the woman she believed to match Mando, it was like shooting herself in the foot with a blaster… nothing but pain and no benefit to herself. All of the imaginary women were like Cleeah, exotically unattainable with beautiful clothes and lifestyles that exposed them to all of the things she lacked. The longer she compared herself to these illusory women it became apparent that as long as they weren’t her nothing else really mattered. She was too small, and couldn’t defend herself like Cleeah. The names of changing seasons were still new to her, along with the idea of swimming in water that wasn’t cold enough to freeze a person in minutes. She could shoot a blaster, but that didn’t mean anything to a trained bounty hunter… nothing she did made a difference

Maybe learning a few things would impress him? Then he might not think so lowly of her.

Despite her perpetually adverse sentiments towards herself, there was one thing she knew she was lucky to experience… Mando. Living on the ship gave her more than enough time to soak in his small idiosyncrasies - when he wasn’t paying enough attention to mask them – and without anyone to discourage her, she paid painstakingly close attention to them. It wasn’t smart, and she knew that doing so wasn’t helping her growing infatuation towards the Mandalorian; pouring fuel onto the fire that licked at her core when he was around. Every day she found more and more parallels between him and the many suns they’d passed travelling through the galaxy.

Domestic things that Mando did made the biggest impressions. Seeing him rinse out a cloak in a stream and hang it to dry, or mindlessly rubbing his gloved fingers rubbing at the dirty spots on his thigh plates to clean them was radically opposite to his typically statuesque personality. He liked to cook, or at least when it was available for him to, and for a man who lived on the edge of certain death laying low on this moon suited him right down to the ground.

Every living thing gravitated towards him, from the tall waving grass to the low hanging tree branches that skimmed his pauldrons and helmet. Inherently he looked more machine than biological, but every movement was fluid and effortless like there wasn’t anything unnatural about him. Mando blended into his environment, letting the mirror-polished shine on his beskar envelop him until he was almost a shadow against his surroundings; Like he was the perfect hunter with the entire moon assisting in his hunts. The girl couldn’t be sure if Mando knew how well he blended in or if it just naturally happened; Either way it was always something she had begun to love about him.

Quietly she slipped out of the ship, hoping not to disturb Mando as he slept through the morning. Hopefully until after she got back… There was nothing worse than the feeling of his hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her back again him after she’d wandered too far from his eyesight. It had nothing to do with  the thought of him tracking her down, but more so with the way he did it. Feeling the icy surprise of his steel curiass against her back and the slow rise and fall of his chest made more than her chest clench. It was hard to think straight with Mando so close, and the idea of him chasing her down was more than enough to have her trembling.  

She neglected her boots, opting for the soft padding of the grass under her feet. Saying this moon was anything less than divine was a discredit to just how beautiful it was. She couldn’t imagine a prettier color than the deep browns of the soil sticking to her toes and the hundreds of shades of green covering every inch of the valley. Of course, Ashas Ree had been beautiful but not a single drop of rain had fallen since they landed and it was nice to explore without getting wet. After deciding on a heading, she made out towards the waterfall hoping one last visit would get it off her mind before Mando woke up. A clear head would make talking to him much more approachable when she returned back to the ship.

It wasn’t long before the familiar sound of the water reached her ears, and an even more familiar feeling of dread filled her stomach when the sizeable resonances of voices layered over the spray of the water. The girl stopped in her tracks and dropped down to the ground behind a tree placing a hand over her chest; Trying desperately to calm the thumping feeling in her heart that racked against her sternum. There were at least six different voices she could differentiate, but from instinct she estimated there to have been more than ten people rummaging about at the base of the cliff and waterfall.  

Get yourself together, and find out what’s going on before you lose your kriffing mind.

Her next exhale was shaky, but not as bad as her knees when she peeked around the thick tree trunk to look between the thick trunks towards the sounds. One ship sat at the top of the cliff, it’s durasteel paneling just barely peeking through the canopy of densely needle-covered branches. Less than a hundred feet or so, stood a group of men preoccupied with setting up tents and another group sitting around a stump with playing cards in their hands. Immediately she recognized them playing Sabacc and slowly came up to her feet, taking two careful steps backwards. All of them were covered in grease, and filthy beyond any real recognition of who they might’ve been. That didn’t keep the girl from identifying that they were smugglers, just getting ready to settle in for the day.  

She needed to get back to Mando before they noticed the Slave sitting in the middle of the valley… or her spying on them.

The girl didn’t have enough time to realize anything but the dull throb of a fist swiping across her cheek. Her whimper covered the sound of her body slamming back down to the ground from the heavy assault. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the tall figure towering above her who presently stood resting his hands on his hips, laughing darkly at her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing way out here?” his scratchy voice rumbled as he roughly yanked her to her feet, sneering with blackened teeth. The girl winced away from him, still feeling the awful pain in her face and fearing another blow. His awful breath blew in her face leaving her feeling doubly sick in her current situation.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” She cried out unable to resist the need to let her tears flow. The man laughed aloud this time, shoving her in the direction of the camp she’d desperately been trying to  hide from.

“Oh I expect we’ll have some fun first.” He laughed again, calling out to the men nearest to them. “Look what I found boys!” Her gut churned as she struggled against the man dragging her, violently kicking and jerking her arms in attempt to get away before someone else could come to help her attacker.

“Please let me go!” she screamed, praying that somehow Mando might hear her before anything happened to her. It was all in vain for the quick reflexes of her captor who clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing down hard against her already aching face. Her ability to breathe slowly worsened as they got closer to the camp, multiple voices coming closer and almost echoing in her pulsing ears.

A black rim started closing in on her vision, collecting at the corners of her sight and slowly dotting closer to the center of her field of view. The girl couldn’t fight much longer, and the outlook of her situation ending positively made resisting feel that much more unreasonable. Maybe it was the overwhelming helplessness that enveloped her right as she was passed through the flaps of one of the many tents that she’d been observing Or it might’ve been her body’s lack of oxygen mixed with her quick hyperventilation that caused her to pass out. Either way she wasn’t awake to feel the second blow to her face, or hear the way her body hit the ground after being tossed carelessly to the floor by her attacker.

PRESENT TIME

Mando was growing more impatient by the second as he waited for the girl to return. The girl had never been away from the ship this long, especially without giving him some type of idea as to what she was doing before she left. He tapped his heels impatiently on the floor, watching the valley in front of him, as if his thoughts alone were going to be enough to make her appear from thin air. It wasn’t the first time he’d went out searching for her, and he was sure this time wouldn’t be the last either. His mind raced with instinctual thoughts, running through scenario after scenario until he’d worked himself just short of full-blown fury before he collected his blasters and set out to find her.

There was a certain coldness in the air around him as the sound of distant voices were picked up by his helmet, chilling past his weighted armor and icing over any of the emotional turmoil that the girl had created in her absence. The sun still shown bright but Mando couldn’t feel anything other than that prickling sense of death creeping up on him. A slight breeze rustled the trees but for Mando it sounded like millions of whispers all crowding out any thought that didn’t have to do with his girl. Even death seemed quite willing to agree with Mando in the moment and he was certain that even if death wasn’t willing it wouldn’t have mattered anyways.

Laughter and the unawareness of the smugglers were telling. All of their tents were set up, and sabacc decks were huddled around by a few groups of men, all of them either yelling or doing their best to keep their tell from showing. Baudy jokes and drunken howling set the background of a hellish encampment of men who most likely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to steal away a stranded pretty girl. Mando bristled at the sight before him, instinctually targeting the tents in search of any movement that might mark if she’d been taken by them. He could see multiple heat signatures, but at this distance there was no definition to the blurry red blobs in his HUD. She was here… he knew it.

If the smugglers hadn’t been engrossed in their petty gambling they would’ve been shocked to see the imposing figure lurking right out of eyesight. It would’ve looked like the gods had created the image of hell right in front of them. The shadows of the trees clung to Mando, radiating outwards like an ominous haze of black unfurling like heavy wings around his statuesque frame. A reaper had taken form in the shape of a bounty hunter, more destructive than any known to walk the galaxy. Mando knew that death clung to him but he didn’t know that this was what set him apart from all others. Others didn’t see him as a purveyor of death’s wishes, what others saw was the incarnate of revenge and prowess. Power and menace fearfully evident on the slate black visor of The Mandalorian. This was what the girl hadn’t seen of him. Nothing she’d heard or ever would hear about Mando would compare to the malevolence displayed before these smugglers. The sunlight that she saw, swallowed whole by the all-encompassing rage that flowed through Mando as he paced imposingly towards the center of the camp. His calmness only proved the efficiency of his body and the instinctual way he was able to concentrate his intensity for the most lethal means.

Only after a dried branch that had been carelessly tossed to the edge of one of the groups snapped under the weight of his boot did one of the men look to meet Mando’s emotionless stare. The man’s eyes widened in panic just long enough for him to remember that he wasn’t the only man there. He collected his fear long enough to nudge the man sitting next to him who still sat focused on his hand of cards, unaware of the mental battle Mando was waging on the now standing smuggler. The Mandalorian couldn’t help but smile, wickedly content with the silent terror he was providing.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man finally spat out, masking his voice well enough that his partners wouldn’t notice what Mando was privy to. All eyes in the camp looked up from their cards to stare at the beskar-clad reaper. Mando’s silence unsettled the entire clan and the unanswered question rang true in the minds of all the grease-stained men. After a long moment, one of the larger men singled himself out and approached Mando with an obvious false-confidence that screamed out for attention. His long blonde hair was coated in filth and ratted into knots that collected mud; freshly dried blood coating the knuckles on his right hand.  

“We were under the impression this moon was deserted.” The man smiled, unable to help himself from smiling at the inside joke Mando was also privy to. “My men and I just settled in for the evening… I expect you’re coming to say hello?” The man reached out his blood-stained hand to Mando, who momentarily thought about shooting it clean off.

“I came to get what’s mine.” He growled lowly, lowering his visor to meet the eyes of the man speaking.

“I have nothing of yours.” The man responded casually, settling his tightly clenched fists on his hips. He even took a glance down at the blaster strapped to Mando’s hip. “We just dropped our shipment, so there’s nothing for you to take anyways.” It wasn’t a convincing bluff, but the other members of the crew were obviously certain that it would deter the man in front of them into leaving. Their visible relief diminished once Mando rested his palm over the handle of his blaster, slowly resting his fingers over the well-worn finish of the weapon.

“You’ll die in five seconds.” He pointed to the tents gathered behind all of the men with his free hand. “If you don’t return what you’ve taken.” Mando’s mind wasn’t allowing him to speak of her, despite his honest attempt in saying that she was his. His anger blocked any real thought of sentiment, protecting himself in the chance that they would try and use it against him, or worse realize that she meant something important to him.

“We don’t have what you’re after.” The man sneered quickly drawing out his own blaster. The action end trained itself right at the center of Mando’s chest, gently wavering in the anxious hands of its owner. Mando sneered under his helmet at the pitiful challenge in front of him, feeling just how threatened the man felt under his unhuman stare.

Everything happened quickly. The first shot between the two men were almost in sync, Mando’s dropping the man to the ground in a fit of screams. The first blast Mando took was to the chest, knocking him off balance long enough for others in the encampment to pick up arms against him. Only a couple others picked up blasters, issuing three more inaccurate shots to his beskar; These men were the next to fall. The rest preferred hand to hand combat, assuming that Mando couldn’t fight off more than a couple men at once. His Whistling Birds allowed him the space to fight off the remaining stragglers that didn’t catch the attention of his heat seeking projectiles. In his haste, he checked the tents and found that one tent still carried the signature of three bodies huddled in a corner. Before he could move close enough to see inside a booming voice echoed over the rocks of the cliff surrounding them.

“Get any closer and she dies!”

Mando moved to stand in the opening, allowing himself to wince at the sight before him. Two men -bigger than any he’d seen- crouched over the still form of the girl, one pointing a blaster at Mando while the other held a knife to her throat. He was in terrible position and any wrong move would result in a stray blast hitting her, or a knife wound that couldn’t be healed on the ship. There had to be some way to get them away from her.

“What do you want with her?” he asked coolly, letting his modulator mask the infinite levels of fear and rage mixing with his tone.

“A fuck.” The knife wielding one spat, touching the edge of the blade to the girls throat with a an evil snarl.

“She’s a criminal.” -he lied- “Wanted for murder on Hoth. I hunted her to this moon, so she could stand trial.” It was his only chance. Even horny smugglers didn’t like the idea of fraternizing with well-known criminals.

“You’re a bounty hunter.” The second man surmised, “Then you’ll pay to get her back.” He smiled, glancing down at the multiple satchels attached to Mando’s belt, his eyes widening at the thought of making even a few extra credits.

“I wasn’t given an advance. Instead you’ll split the bounty head.” He quickly thought on his feet, watching as the gravity of the situation began to lift, if only by a minuscule amount.

“How much?” The first man asked, glancing down at the girl who was still breathing evenly despite how weak she looked.

“I take half. You split the other.” They would be insane to not take an offer like that from any bounty hunter… especially from a man like Mando.

The two men shared a glance, and nodded before removing themselves from overtop of the girl, and tucking away their weapons. It was foolish of the two smugglers, but Mando already knew how much power money held over every sentient being in the galaxy. The two men followed a silent Mando as he brought them back towards the center of the camp, and turned around to face them, mimicking the actions of finding something in his belt. He listened as the two men talked, mentioning how simple of a fight the girl had been.

“She’d gone down in two punches. Kriff, I can’t imagine how she’d killed anyone bigger than a child.” It was the man who held the knife who laughed as he imagined the false scenario of the girl.

“You think that’s the best part? I’m guessing you didn’t get the chance to smell her did you?” The second man emphasized his addition to the conversation with an exaggerated inhale. “Sweeter than any candy I’ve ever tasted.” He chuckled, turning to Mando who’d finally had enough of the charade he was orchestrating.

“Did you get more than a smell?” Mando prodded with a low growl, watching as a grin crept across the man’s face.

“I may have sampled the goods.” He chuckled before leaning in just far enough that he could reach Mando’s implied ear. “That little curve at the top of her tits… well, let’s just say it couldn’t resi-.” The register of Mando’s blaster echoed in the trees, barely muffled by the point blank contact with the man’s chest. It was followed by confused shouts and a loud groan, but it all fell on Mando’s deaf ears. There was nothing stopping him from finishing this, these men had been dangerous; Now that they were away from the girl Mando could fully punish the bastards for what they’d done to her.

Those horrific thoughts kept replaying in his mind long after he’d dispatched of the other man who’d been to startled to even make a reach for his knife. Mando’s entire body was trembling with emotion as he lifted the opening of the tent to face his failure to protect her. She was still out-cold, and a deep blue bruise was already forming on her face as Mando gently collected her in his arms to abandon the now silent camp. She didn’t move a muscle the entire walk to the ship, and Mando did his best to keep her close to his chest in case she was more injured than was visual. He could feel that shadow of darkness trailing behind him, it’s draw to seek out any of the men left alive dissipating with every step closer to the ship. He looked back down at her and set his jaw, doing his best not to scream out in frustration at the pain he’d allowed to fall on her. The outline of knuckles were already imprinting themselves onto her face, with a gut wrenching trail of blood running from her nose.

“I’m so sorry little one.” Mando’s broken gasp spoke louder than any apology he could ever verbalize. “I need to clean you up.” He murmured as he shut the hatch door behind him, feeling the need to separate her from the world outside the ship.

He laid her in his bed, cradling her head down into the pillow as he checked for any other outward signs of injury. His shaking body jerked even harder the longer he stood over her, waiting for her to open her eyes. He smoothed her hair back out of her face, and let his fingers lace through the strands for a few minutes, in his own mind thinking it might soothe her knitted brows and tightly shut eyes.

“Please wake up little one.” He begged quietly, “I need to know you’re okay.” If he’d not been paying attention Mando might’ve missed the slight twitch of her fingers followed by a quick  reaction of pulling her knees to her chest, and wrapping her arms over her face. His heart clenched with helplessness as she opened her eyes and peeked through the space in her arms to face him kneeling down at her side.  

“You found me.” She whimpered still protecting her face. He nodded silently, losing all of the words he’d been speaking before she’d had the ability to look back at him. Her shaky inhale was followed by another whimper as she touched for fingertips to her bruising cheek; Wincing, she lowered her arms back down and slowly scooted herself closer to the edge of the bed, judging Mando’s reactions closely.

“I didn’t protect you.” His sadness was pitifully evident as he lowered his eyes down to the floor in front of him. Nothing he could do would make up for the hurt that she’d displayed after touching her cheek. He felt her hand rest on the crown of his helmet, pushing gently as to ask him to raise his head back up. At first, he protested unwilling to face her after such a breach of trust.  

“Look at me Mando.” Her voice was raspy, no doubt from screams that he hadn’t heard. It was another blow to his gut as he relented and met her soft gaze. “You found me. Saved me.” It was her acceptance of his apology, however he was almost sick to accept it. Nothing he’d done deserved such an honor as her acceptance of his failure, and it was enough to drop him to both knees under the weight of her hand on his helm.

“I don’t understand you.” He murmured, the weight of her hand traveling over the back of his helmet towards the sides and back up to the top where she seemed content to hold it. “I almost lost you.” He admitted, finally able to allow some of the weight of his emotions to strip away.

“You didn’t, and you won’t.” she assured. Mando was astonished at her bravery after what she’d endured, and he found it hard to believe that she was the one reassuring him as he shook with adrenaline release on the floor next to her. She let out another whimper, this time letting her arm fall back down across her eyes, biting her quivering bottom lip. Even in his wrecked state, he could tell she was trying to be much stronger than she needed to be.

“Where does it hurt?” he questioned her gently, making sure not to touch her as he repositioned himself to stand up.

“My head.” she whispered. “They hit me… and other things.” Her whisper broke into small sobs as she began to remember the encounter much quicker than he’d hoped she would. Mando didn’t know what to do this time as he watched her rub small circles at her temples.

“What can I do little one?” His voice broke again.

“I want it all off me.” She whined. “ ’Fresher…” she mumbled, pulling at the hem of her dirt and blood stained shirt in attempt to pull it off. “Help me… please?” Her tears welled in the corners of her eyes, as she looked up at him.

“Can you stand up?” He asked, keeping himself from touching her. Nothing would be worse than another man touching her without making it clear first. She tried, but didn’t get further than sitting at the edge of the bed before she looked back up at him, pleading eyes and a wobbling bottom lip.

“Please.”

Mando broke, and nodded gently before setting to his armor slowly removing it piece by piece until only the much preferable fabric of his shirt flight suit remained. Nothing could be worse than having her feel the cold beskar, he’d always noticed her gasps when the cold steel made contact with her skin. She reached up to grip ahold of his shoulders, defiantly wanting to do as much as she could independently while Mando supported her at her hips, keeping an arm secured around her as they slowly made progress towards the ‘Fresher. The girl did her best to hide the pain but Mando knew it was making this easy walk virtually impossible.

“Sit down here.” He whispered, sensing how easily it affected her to hear loud noises. Tired and frustrated at her lack of independence, she let Mando ease her down without even trying to do it herself anymore. He opened the water valve and let the heat rise until it was comfortable enough on the back of his bare hand before turning back to see her staring in the mirror in front of her.  

“I look hideous.” She furrowed her brows and frowned, upsetting the sore muscles in her face again. She moaned at the frustration situation and looked back up to Mando who was already crouching down next to her again, tilting his head as he searched her face for any signs of sever injury.

“Can I check something?” he lifted a bare hand up towards her face, watching as her eyes widened at the sight of his scarred skin in the light for the first time. “I won’t hurt you.” It was a weighted statement; One that the both of them understood to mean more than the current circumstance at hand. She hummed a quiet okay as he touched the edge of her cheekbone, just underneath of her eye feeling along the edge until an abnormal angle caught his attention.

“What is it?” her brows pulled together for a moment before forcibly relaxing again.

“Let me look at the other side.” He removed his other glove and mirrored the same path he’d followed on the bruised side hoping that the edge he’d felt was just unique to her bone structure. Mando let out a deep sigh when he didn’t palpate that landmark on her other side. “You’ll need bacta… more than a patch.” His hands dropped away from her face. “You’ve got a fracture… that’s part of why the bruising is so bad.” There was a certain softness in his voice, only attributable to his need to soften the edge of hearing that her wounds looked awful.

“I just want to get clean.”

Mando helped by pulling the narrow legs of her pants from around her ankles, not allowing her to reach any further than necessary; Also by cutting the side out of her shirt so she didn’t have to reach above her head to remove it.

“You’re always cutting my clothes off.” She remarked with the slightest intonation of humor, and Mando couldn’t help but stifle a chuffed laugh. It wasn’t the most endearing thing to be known for, but it did seem to interest him that she didn’t seem the least bit upset by his newfound propensity for ruining her clothes.

“You can have something of mine when you get out.” He offered turning his eyes towards the floor as she reached around to unwrap her breast band. Mando worked at his own boots, sitting them out of the way as he waited for her to make the next move. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder and gripped tightly onto the fabric as she tried to push up onto her feet.

“Give me a second...” She sighed before once again attempting to get to her feet.

“Take your time. I’m right here little one.” His endearment plus the small support of his words seemed to give her enough stamina to get onto her feet, and remain there long enough that she felt confident to let Mando get her the rest of the way into the ‘Fresher.

It wasn’t comfortable in the small stall, and the sopping wet feeling of Mando’s flight suit didn’t bode well under the hard water pressure either. The girl rested against Mando as she slowly worked soap over her face, cleansing off the dirt and blood while Mando took the liberty of washing out her hair. It didn’t take long for her to get so tired that she couldn’t continue, and simply let Mando finish what she couldn’t. All of the necessary places she’d done herself, and he couldn’t have been more grateful that she’d spared him from the experience. Even if the situation was ideal, he wouldn’t have had any way of knowing just how she did things, and he didn’t want to get it wrong.

“I’m cold.” She murmured against his chest, nuzzling her unscathed cheek into him a little more as he ran his hands down her soapy back to remove the excess lather.

“You’ve been in the water too long.” She only nodded in response, and relaxed further into him as he turned off the water and reached outside of the door for a towel to wrap around her. “Here. Take this.” He wrapped it around her back, handing both ends to her with his head turned to the side.

She was about to lean away, but Mando had already decided that she wasn’t walking back. Without much effort he pulled her off the floor and kept her tight against him as he brought her back into his quarters. The room was already darkening due to night approaching, and it made transferring her onto the bed a much simpler process without the impropriety of seeing her without the towel. Mando himself reached under the bed and blindly pulled out a dry set of underclothes for himself and retreated into the girl’s room for the old shirt of his that she’d taken to wearing to bed. He changed before returning, running a towel over the wet strands of hair that strayed from underneath his helmet and donning a pair of socks and his gloves. After he'd hung his flight suit over an active draft grate and returned to his dark bedroom with the shirt and the highest strength bacta patch he could find in his supply stores.

“This should keep you warm.” He held the shirt out blindly, hoping that he was close enough that she could take it.

“Thank you.” The sound of the fabric rustling gave Mando a sense of calm and he was prepare to leave her in peace when she hesitantly mumbled something. It wasn’t loud enough to hear, but he knew it was directed at him off instinct. Patiently, he waited for her to repeat herself, either her courage or energy needed the chance to catch up.

“Say it again.” He prodded gently, taking a step towards the bed.

“Would you stay?” Her voice sounded much like normal with that sweet intonation that reminded Mando just how innocent she really was. He went cold then hot in a matter of seconds, feeling the pull of fear and desire pulling at his conscience. He stood in silence, weighing his thoughts until he just couldn’t stand the idea of needing to rationalize every decision he made when it came to her.

In two strides his knees his the edge of the bed, and he felt his way up towards the head where he nervously sat down, and brought his legs up beside hers. He crossed his arms over his chest, and took a deep breath to calm himself down. The girl made her own small adjustment and settled down closer to his side, intent on seeking out the warmth that she apparently wasn’t getting from the shirt or sheets. Quietly, he placed a hand on her face turning it so that he could apply the patch. She hissed under the cold contact, but stilled after a few minutes of letting the analgesic treatment work into her damaged muscles and bone. The girl rested an appreciative hand on top of his arm and gave a gentle, sleepy squeeze.

“Are you still cold?” He asked through a tight jaw, still feeling the radical effects of her gentle touch vibrating though his arm. She gave another light squeeze, and nodded a little before tilting her chin upwards to look at him though the dark room.

“A little.”

Responding quickly, he turned onto his side and laid still as she turned onto her side to fit herself right against his chest. Even her legs fell flush against his thighs as Mando lifted the blankets over her. The girl let out a warm sigh of approval and Mando released his own withheld breath, only his held the strain of her bare legs entangling with his own. For someone that felt like they were running a fever, Mando couldn’t understand why she’d become so cold all of a sudden. Her light snores lifted into the bedroom within minutes; Already sleeping by the time he’d found the mental capacity to think about something other than the way her skin scorched though his compression pants and shirt. Under his unnecessary justification that she might still be cold he draped an arm over her waist, and gently pulled her closer watching to make sure he didn’t move her head more than necessary.

The steady rhythm of her breathing gave him time to think for the first time since he’d went searching for her. It pained him to think that he’d been so close to losing her… a group of smugglers who hadn’t had any idea of who she was or that there were men after her. Even worse, she was seriously hurting and the only thing that was keeping her from feeling it was the adrenaline still slowly passing through her system, drip feeding protection from the fracture in her cheek. He looked down at the bacta patch, studying the dimly lit lights glowing on the surface, lighting up her face just enough that Mando could trace her features. Mando couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such a pretty face, and he was even more certain that he wouldn’t find someone that beautiful for the rest of his life. Freckles had begun to appear on her skin after being in the sunlight, darkening the smattering of color that collected on her nose and on the apples of her high cheekbones.

All of the darkness that he’d felt when walking into the camp had faded into grey, mimicking the steel tone of the beskar that lay abandoned in the floor of the ‘Fresher. It felt like he was finally able to escape the draw of battle for once in his life. Simply laying with her was enough to keep that biting instinct to hunt and fight away, even if just while he held her. He tightened his grip on her waist further, dreading the moment that he’d need to leave, and pilot them away from the maker-forsaken place forever. There was one person he needed to tell before they left.

Inside the safety and sound-proofing of his helmet he comm’ed Fett, letting his hand trace along the curve of the girl’s hip as he waited for an answer. He toyed with the frayed hem of his old shirt, feeling how low it rode on the girl’s thigh and silently admiring the drastic incongruity in their sizes.

“Mando.” Fett sounded quite tired, and for a moment he wondered just why he hadn’t comm’ed early in the morning instead of in the dead of night. He didn’t dwell on it for much longer than it took to register the thought.

“She was attacked.” He admitted, watching the miniscule reaction in Fett’s shoulders as he took in the information. Mando recounted details of the smugglers and their assault, leaving out nothing as he made certain to reassure Fett that none of the men had gone unpunished for the attack and that the girl was still unlocated by anyone other than the two of them.  

“She’ll need healed.” He growled back to Mando, emphasizing the glaring issue at hand.

He had failed…

“They shouldn’t have died so easily.” He added with a sinister tone that Mando wasn’t very accustomed to hearing.

“I didn’t think… It was all I could do to get her out of there.” His voice broke under the pressure of his admission. “You’re offer still stands?” Mando asked quietly, glancing down to look at the girl who’d nestled herself tight against him, resting peacefully under the physiological sedative she’d been fighting against in the shower, mixed with bacta.

“Bring her here, she’ll be safe.” Fett’s typical tone of flattery and undercurrent of sexual tension was absent as he resent the coordinates to Mando even after he’d denied needing them a second time. Fett asked more questions about the girl, more so about her condition than anything. Repeating himself when Mando couldn’t keep his train of thought in one coherent strand as he delved deeper into the missing minutes of her rescue that had gone blurry in the midst of the blaster fire.

“She’s sleeping. It was kriffing impossible to help her do anything… Her way only.” He murmured, more to himself than Fett with a slightly frustrated sigh. Fett grunted in appreciation of her determination, although the mood wasn’t light enough for any real laughter. Boba took the lull in conversation to discuss the security procedures that he preferred -more so demanded- Mando take when approaching his landing on arrival.

“Drop straight in on the location. Don’t waste time. There aren’t inhabitants close, but if you come in at cruising altitude I’ll shoot you out of the sky myself.” Fett threatened, altogether serious in his attempt to covey the strict measures he necessitated.

“Fine.” Mando nodded, though Fett couldn’t see the physical acknowledgement.

“Make sure she doesn’t wake up to an empty bed… She’ll be feeling the full force of this tomorrow… bacta patch or not.” Fett added, dropping his visor with an lowly with a disheartened sigh. Of course he couldn’t fault Fett’s reaction, if anything he wasn’t surprised at how seriously he took the care of the women in his life when it came to safety and being overly protected when the situation called for it. Boba Fett might’ve been the most irritating man Mando had ever met, but he was still respectable in Mando’s visor. More than ever he was beginning to think that getting the girl her own comm link was one of the best decisions he’d made since bringing her aboard.

The comm ended, and Mando returned his full attention to the girl, didn’t move an inch the entire night and neither did Mando; He didn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. She had lulled him into a state of complete resignation when it came to thinking about getting up. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb her obviously comfortable position. It would be the best sleep she’d get for at least a couple days, and Mando was set in the idea that he wasn’t going to be the one to ruin her opportunity. He spent the hours rubbing her back, and smoothing her hair back out of her face until he was certain she’d need a shower to clean the smell of his blaster residue- covered gloves.

She wouldn’t wake up until late morning, with a low groan and a deep stretch that made her muscles quiver. Mando watched as her grogginess wore off and the gravity of the situation fell onto her face. He was fully prepared to answer any questions she had, practicing his responses throughout the night in the idea that he would be more than competent to provide any information she wanted.

His work went completely untested.

The girl took a moment to reach up for the patch covering her cheek, letting out a whimper when the light pressure she applied intensified her pain. When she recovered, her sleepy eyes fell on Mando who still had his arm possessively tucked around her middle. No amount of preparation prepared him for what she finally asked him;

“Did you sleep well?”

Awestruck by her comically causal statement he gave a swift nod, feeling the edge of his helmet gently bump against the crown of her head. He touched the spot with his free hand, hoping that it hadn’t hit her hard enough to cause any discomfort. When she happily sighed, and relaxed back into his palm heat spread through his chest, warming the cold anxiety he’d been harboring throughout the night. They laid in comfortable silence for what felt like an eternity to Mando, as she let him continue running his fingers through her hair without any complaint to the way it gleamed with oil from his gloves or the tell-tale smell of a freshly fired amban rifle. It was enough to have Mando feeling like he was back in the water, toeing the edge of an endless cavern, dangerously warm and inviting.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe. Where I can be sure that you’ll be safe even if I leave.” His voice rumbled with the lazy intonation that could be felt in every inch of the rest of his body.

“I shouldn’t have gone so far from the ship.” The girl shifted onto her back, looking up at him with an apologetic look that fired his fury towards her attackers all over again. He didn’t know how else to tell her otherwise, feeling contrary to her point of view and blaming himself for the attack.

With a deep breath he lowered his helmet to rest his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and hoping that she understood what he was incapable of telling her. It was an unfamiliar intimacy that Mando was already impatient to get more of. Nothing compared to the subtle way her presence cleared away his anger, and effortless ability to blind the dark shadows he could feel lurking patiently just outside the door to the bedroom. The girl was the first to break away, only to press another kiss to his visor and settle her forehead back against his. She was the one hurting but found the necessity to calm his unspoken distress.

“When are we leaving?” Her hot breath fogging up his display.

“It’s up to you little one.”

***

With a fresh bacta patch and some soup Mando was thankful that she slept through the entire flight. It wasn’t a long journey -no more than five standard hours- but by the time Mando’s landing gear hit the ground it was night on Aeos Prime. Nothing but the sound of water could be heard over the Slave Two’s engines as Mando piloted the ship above what looked to be a bombed out shelter of some kind as he took note of  the jagged edges of durasteel, melted and bent from the long-past impact. Endless ocean surround him and for a moment he was unable to register just how much reach Fett had across the galaxy.

“Kriffing impossible.” He breathed out, watching as a shield rose up from beneath the thrashing waves to push away the water that covered a ship-sized lock gate nestled into the sand at the sea floor. Hesitant to push through the blue forcefield, he slowly pushed though watching as the penetrable shield bent around the ship until he was fully within it’s protection. The angry water raged against the power shield, trying it’s best to thrash at the charged wall separating Mando from the risk of losing another ship.

The lock gate below him opened with a metallic thud, allowing access so the slave could descend into the cavern below. Once his revelation faded, Mando was left to observe a single ship sitting in the underground loading bay… the sister to his own ship, the Slave One. Old cargo crates sat at the wayside, along with old land speeders retrofitted to haul the same crates that sat strewn about the ground. The grey duracrete walls and steel support beams looked almost untouched compared to the reinforcements above ground. Although everything was well preserved, abandonment was obvious. Dust covered the once striped floors, and deactivated droids sat at the edges of the bay, rusting from the lack of maintenance. All of it screamed military property or something of the like, what exactly he wasn’t sure of… but it reminded him of the Imperial Base on Nevarro that they’d blown sky high. That didn’t keep him from opening the hatch and stepping out into the recycled air of the underground world he’d been so hesitant to enter.

“I told you to haul ass, di’kut.” Fett’s booming voice echoed through the empty loading bay as he appeared from one of the long tunnels that connected to the giant room.

“Don’t act like that’s normal…” Mando challenged, feeling the slightest bit embarrassed that he hadn’t ever experienced something quite as unreal as disappearing underneath the ocean. Fett approached with a somewhat friendly smile, and clapped a hard smack over Mando’s pauldron before turning his attention towards the ships.

“What a pair.” His voice beamed with pride as he looked at the sister ships. “I haven’t seen them together like this in longer than I’d care to admit.” His slight chuckle eased Mando’s taught nerves.

“What is this?” Mando took his own glance around the bay, trying to find some marker of property or ownership.

“It was a city… at one point. But now it’s almost a dead planet.” Fett explained, wandering towards the Slave Two’s open hatch. “Only beings are on the opposite side of the planet, and they keep to themselves… all twenty of them. But I don’t like giving them the opportunity to do so anyways.”

Mando could only silently agree. Not just for the consistency in Fett’s operational standards, but for the safety of the girl who still lay asleep in his bed.

“How is she?” he asked, lowering his voice when he came into the hull of the ship.

“Sleeping for now. But I’m afraid she’s got a fracture, or maybe more than one.” Mando hated saying it, but there was nothing he could do but help her heal at this point. If that meant telling Boba, then so be it; It wouldn’t’ve been the first time he’d swallowed his pride in the presence of the green Mando.

“I’ve got everything she’ll need.” Fett nodded back in the direction of the way he’d come, before turning his attention back to the ship’s ration supply crates. “Bring these along… and anything else you can think of needing. If we are caught, there’s nothing worse than being without everything.” It was directed at The Crest, and no matter how badly Mando wanted to defend himself he could tell that Fett was simply being rational. Within the hour, Mando and Fett had loaded one of the speeders with rations, a third of Mando’s weapons closet and the two small boxes that the girl kept her belongings in.

Lastly, Mando made one last trip to get the girl. She was still dead asleep when he lifted her off the bed, bringing along the blankets she’d wrapped herself in to keep her bare legs from being exposed to the cold air and Fett’s possible wandering eyes. In her dream-filled slumber she nuzzled her face under the edge of his helmet, breathing steadily against his neck. Boba gave Mando a nod of approval, ignoring the opportunity to make a comment about her unconscious desire to seek him out; Instead he opted to settle behind the controls of the speeder, and pilot them down the long tunnel. Mando shielded her from the wind, keeping his back towards Fett as they traveled the long distance deeper into the darkness until the arcing floor grew tall enough to block the view of any light from the loading bay.

Further underground… He thought, instinctually wrapping the girl tighter in the blankets to keep the cold from getting through. Even the duracrete walls seemed to get darker the further they traveled below the surface of the planet. Fett slowed the speeder outside of a sealed door at the end of the hall, taking a look at his own vambrace before unlocking the thick security doors. He pulled though, and resealed them before turning to face Mando.

“Take this hallway,” -he pointed down the one to his left- “And you’ll see the common area. From there, pick a door and that’s where the two of you will stay. Full accommodations.” He gave a curt nod, and began unloading the supply crates without giving Mando any further instruction.

The room he found himself in was similar to the loading bay, but not available for any ship to enter. Most likely a docking station for speeders. He examined the room another time before following the general direction that Fett had given. Once down the hall he came into the ‘common room’ as Fett had called it, seeing the generic markers of a kitchen and dining table with a large portion of the room being occupied by a wall of instrument panels, communication equipment and radar monitors encompassing a remarkable distance around the central location of this base. Mando found the furthest door from the entry hall, shouldering through the door to find what he could only describe as the most domestic place he’d ever seen.

A bed was centered at the back of the room, with a full ‘Fresher off to the side through another side door, accompanied by three geometrically designed shelfs molded from duracrete in the walls of the room. Left untouched, the room looked empty despite its somewhat lavish accommodations. Even simulated moonlight peered from behind a thick curtain that hung over the false window in the wall.

Kriffing impossible. He repeated to himself, feeling the girl stirring in his arms. She let out a tiny whimper, sleepily brushing her hand against her face. The girl opened her eyes and looked around for a moment before resting her head back against Mando fully contented to stay right where she was as long as he would let her.  

“Are we safe?” Her voice coming much clearer than her physical reaction to waking up.

“Yes. How do you feel?” He strode over to the bed and regrettably sat her down so she could gather herself without the struggle of being bunched up against him. He saw how difficult it was for her to move her mouth without the pressure being too overwhelming and quickly changed his tactics. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded quite quickly, her eyes widening at the thought of getting something to eat. Mando was more than pleased, feeling much better knowing that it wasn’t deterring her from wanting something to eat. He studied the way she looked about the room, bringing her palm up to her cheek and a small wince forming on her brow.

“Do you feel like walking?” It was a test question. Of course he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head ‘no’. Quietly he thanked whoever was listening that she didn’t say yes.

He wanted to prolong her interaction with Boba as long as he could without drawing attention to how miserably obvious it affected him. He bowed out of the room, leaving her to fully wake up and take some time alone while he went to check with Fett who’d made himself busy settling the final two crates in the common room. His own stock was nothing compared to Fett’s towering collection of non-perishables and water supply that looked just re-stocked. In silence the two men worked to collect everything into designated shelves before either of them felt the need to speak to each other.

“You don’t trust me around her.” Fett stated with a somewhat smug tone, sharply snapping his gaze toward Mando who was still sitting the final few cans of soup on the shelf.  The tone in the air was charged at the quick bite Fett hadn’t been able to hold back any longer.

Mando swiftly turned to meet the hard stare in the man’s eyes, scanning the almost black rims of his eyes. Their silent battle seemed endless as both fought under the pretense that they were the clear dominant. Both had a damn good reason to stand their ground no matter who’s floor it belonged to, or what physical prowess the other possessed. Mando didn’t understand what he’d done to Fett, or why it mattered if Mando trusted the girl’s life in his hands. He hardly trusted himself with her…

“I don’t.” He finally growled out straightening his posture so Fett would have to look up at him.

“You’re foolish to think you deserve any part of her when you can see past your fucking helmet boy.” The venom of the truth dripping from the Mandalorian’s words poisoned any calmness that Mando had been carrying. The space between the two stayed out of arms reach, but that didn’t keep them from slowly walking a dangerous dance around the common room.

“I’m nothing to her. Therefore what I think has no importance.” Mando couldn’t argue against Fett, but he wasn’t willing to abdicate the challenge from a man who had no reason for desiring the fight in the first place. “I am not your son.” Mando’s words gritted under the his tight throat and the urge to show Fett just how much he was willing to prove his blood superseded Boba’s. His chest swelled with the pressure of a tightly wound coil, slowly twisting tighter with every second that Fett didn’t leave the subject alone.  

“You’ll do well to keep her alive.”

It was the last straw.

Both men lunged at each other, in a clash of armor and wordless communication verbalized in low growls and grunts as they wrestled each other back and forth. Both men pinned the other to the walls of the room, struggling when the other gained the upper hand with a swift punch or a well-placed grapple that caught the other off guard. By the time each man hand found a hand on their blaster each had their sights set on the weakest target on each man. Mando found the center of Fett’s forehead most preferable, while Fett had chosen dead center on Mando’s hips with a more than deadly look filling those dark eyes.

“Mando!” The girl’s scream brought him out of the haze he’d fell into but he couldn’t drop his sights from Fett, who was fully focused on the girl who no doubt had a horrified expression. The full weight of her crashing into his exposed side rocketed him the rest of the way from his stiff posture towards Fett.

“Please don’t hurt him Mando.” She pleaded with a wobbly voice, as she gripped tightly to his cloak and the edge of his chest plate. Her hard tugs at his armor finally unwound the bunched coil around his focus. Finally realizing what the girl had said, his entire body burned to hear her say it again. Mando relished in the knowledge that Fett would have to live with the idea that she thought him superior. It stroked his flaring -and bruised- ego long after the tension in the room faded through the floor both men still stood bonded to. Again she tugged on his chest plate, pulling him to break the hard stare that as still fixed to Fett’s profile. Her whispered pleads, mixing with fear brought him to look down at her shielding his weaker side as she stared up at him with expectant eyes, looking at his outstretched blaster, then back to him.

“You don’t have to prove anything.” She quietly soothed, reaching a hand out to palm the cold metal of his barrel and assist his frozen muscles in lowering it. “I’m not going anywhere.” She seethed, taking a hard glance towards Fett who had replaced his hard stare with a somewhat amused smile in her direction; Obviously finding her irritation with him humorous. With one final pull on him, she broke his feet from their holds finally letting herself grimace from the overuse in her mouth.

Mando could see fresh blood soaking into the backing of her bacta patch, and he was quick to exit the room away from the both of them towards the Slave 2. Fett was right. No matter how much he wanted to ignore the truth, he’d only proved Fett’s accuracy within three minutes of him speaking. The girl called out for him to come back, and she followed for a short while down the tunnel before she realized that he wasn’t interested in listening to what she had to say. He needed distance from her, more than ever before. A burn in his chest only accentuated the pain that floated through his mind as he replayed the times he’d let himself fall into her lull of security, thinking that maybe the old woman had been right. That even a damn soul could find some solace in the arms of a sweet girl who didn’t see his blood-stained hands, or ink-black soul.

He shut the hatch to the Slave and ripped his helmet away from his head, throwing it into the wall with a loud cry of desperation. In a fit of rage he balled his fist and slammed it into the durasteel wall, frantic for some release in the constant war he’d internalized. Mando wanted to go back to her, and ask for the relief that was unique to her. Let go in the heat of her arms and feel that acceptance he was finally able to admit he desired more than anything. Another loud scream scraped though his vocal chords, irritating his throat from the demanding use he’d suddenly used. It rattled the ship, an empty canister suddenly being filled with the bottled up anger of a man who’d suffered more loss than he could bear the weight of.

His rage continued on throughout the night crashing down on Mando like the thrashing waves of Aeos Prime hundreds of feet above him churning like an monster with an endless instinct to devour or demolish anything in it’s path. He wallowed in the loss of control that Fett had placed upon him, and there was only one way he knew he could solve it. It only made the blow worse, when he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Sealed in his quarters with his armor strewn about the hull along with his helmet and flight suit he finally collapsed onto the bed with a singular need to seek out any traces of the girl on his sheets. Even in the solitude he’d chosen over the presence of the girl, Mando found himself burying his bare face in the pillow searching for her comfort in the only way he knew how. Underneath the heavy scent of leather and metal he could finally smell that sweet mix of her sweat and something else foreign to anything he could ever guess to describe.

He found what he needed.

It smelled like her.

After all this time of keeping his distance he’d never allowed himself the purely selfish indulgence of knowing what she smelled like, and now he laid writhing like he was in pain to get just another hint of her. It was unlike him to be so unhinged; Only after Grogu had been kidnapped had anything ever felt so severe to him. Now nothing but his own guilt and fear stood guard over the one and only thing he’d ever realized he wanted. He stayed wrapped in the subtle reminder of the girl in his sheets, battling with the shadows of his training and the creed just hiding in the corners of his room and doing everything he could to fight them away just for a little while longer. Those dark figures and the evil laugh of death in the hull echoed for hours into an undetectable Aeos Prime daylight.

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[elionwriter]

GOOD OMENS FANFICTION: A World for Three

PROLOGUE

In a quaint, little bookshop in Soho and a fancy apartment of Mayfair an angel and a demon were living their lives very much the same way they always had. It was a life made of precious and antique books; of plants growing lushly under the pressure of constant death threats; of strolls in the park and dinners at the Ritz. I should correct my previous statement, though, and say that the two were living their lives exactly the way they always should have: together.

While most of their habits and daily activities remained the same, doing all those things together without having to hide or lie to their respective workplaces made them feel altogether new and fulfilling. Aziraphale and Crowley had united to stop the Apocalypse, they had trusted each other and played with fire and had, against all odds, won.

After thousands of years, Aziraphale could now lift his gaze from the book he was reading, comfortably sat in his chair and expect to find Crowley there, on the old, battered couch snoozing peacefully. Crowley could finally extend shyly his open palm across the table as the angel ate his meal and feel the other gently taking it with his free hand. It was, in short, the perfect life for two people on their own side.  

Things however weren’t the same everywhere. As a matter of fact, both in Heaven and Hell things had too suddenly changed and far too radically. At the darkest hour of a cloudy and desolate night another demon and another angel met to discuss.

On an empty bench in St.James park a thunder suddenly stroke and from it appeared the Archangel Gabriel. A fly, which was laying around, turned its head and flew up towards the newly arrived. A bunch of flies laying all around all followed at once and came together forming a cloud. The flies seemed to look reproachfully at the angel but his overstretched and fake smile didn’t falter. The flies moved to the archangel’s side on the bench and gave shape to the prince of hell Beelzebub. - ...zzz you are late!- She buzzed with annoyance.

- Very sorry for that, an emergency came up.- Gabriel said slinging a purple scarf around his neck. - Apparently there was a sudden incursion of demons trying to cause havoc in one of our offices.- He continued giving the other a side glance. He pulled out a plastic, food container filled with grimy, disgusting goo and passed it to her. - I believe these agents or whatever remains of them are yours.-

Beelzebub took the container and tossed it away, purposefully missing the trashcan by a few inches. - Not my zzz fault! Those idiots were zzz buzzzzing on their own account. Keeping those rejects from Heaven and demented sinners at bay has become more a pain in the azzz than it ever was.- Gabriel nodded sternly - You have no idea what is going on upstairs. Diligent angels, steady workers which have never done so much as lift their heads off their papers are now...taking coffee breaks!- He shuddered in horror.

- Huh, our coffee machine is alwayzzz flooded with people. Zzz Too bad it drips cold gunk instead of actual coffee...I didn’t even zzz know you had a coffee machine.-  - We don’t. They suspend their work to talk, chat, whisper, gossip. They gather on the sofas and mumble in groups constantly looking over their shoulder, hiding behind the palm branches and decorative plants! That’s the first and wost sign of insubordination.- Beelzebub smirked - That’zzzz how it started the first time zzzz... ooooohhh, I remember it well. Demons aren’t so subtle: you can hear them squabbling a mile away -

- I think I know what they’re talking about.- Gabriel started - How can a demon survive a bath in Holy Water?- - How can zzz an angel step into a pier of Hell Fire and zzz come out unscathed?- continued Beelzebub. - We may have panicked at first but now, thinking about it clearly, I’m pretty sure they cheated, somehow. They helped each other out and escaped our grasp, somehow.- Gabriel said pulling at his collar as he floundered both with his reasoning and his gestures.

Beelzebub got up, stretching her legs. - That izzzzn’t the point! Zzzz Even if they have weaseled their way out of their punishments, we don’t have a clue how they zzz did it or even lezzz ‘why’. Why did an angel and a zzz demon work together? Why risk their necks for each other and this planet? They both had much more to gain by staying in rank, doing azzz told. We’re different typezzz of creaturezzz, oppozzzite. Our kinds do not mesh! -

Gabriel and Beelzebub looked at each other with poorly concealed disgust at the prospect of ‘fraternizing’. - That’s what we’re here to discuss exactly! People are beginning to wonder: is it really impossible to come together? Are we really that different? If Aziraphale and Crowley could, can someone else do the same: Change in the way it appears they did? If God allowed it, were they really wrong at foiling the Great Plan?-

Gabriel said in a final tone, standing up as well, making the ground slightly tremble under his feet. Beelzebub’s flies scrambled around, buzzing with frustrated confusion before aligning her figure again. - Zzzz That’s more than we can afford! We need to shush the commentzzz, kill the theories and the uproar at once zzz!- Gabriel nodded - Reestablish the status quo!- - Zzz but how zzz?-

The two remained in silence for a moment, Gabriel pacing up and down, Beelzebub standing still on the spot burning the grass around her feet. Then, Gabriel spoke up - Things need to be explained in a way that all can understand. A way we see fit.- Beelzebub closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again saying - One of the two needs to change side. Either Crowley ascends or Aziraphale falls.- Gabriel’s smile turned instantly upside down and he moved towards her - How exactly did you reach this conclusion?! How is it in any way a solution? -

Beelzebub grabbed his arrogant mug and pulled him down to her level with anger. With her free hand she sent a wave on the nearby waters of the duck pond and a simplified set of images illustrated her plan. - They have both showed traits that make them more similar to the opposite faction than their own. If one of them bridges the gap it won’t be so strange that they could get in touch with their enemy and it would explain their failed execution: their spirit wasn’t in the right place!-

Gabriel sneaked out of Beelzebub’s grasp and massaging his face considered her words - Yeeees, I can see it now. Poor, unfortunate Crowley: a demon who’s never truly given up his angelic nature and found his way back to the glory of Heaven where he belongs thanks to the guiding force of Aziraphale which saw the light in him and converted him back. Oh goody, There hasn’t been an ascent since the days of Moses and Abel. This way our agent is shown to have done his true duty all along and Heavens scores a victory! I like it!-

- Ooooor, Zzzz Aziraphale wazzz ready to fall and our agent Crowley gave him the final push by tempting him into the greatest act of defiance of all zzz: going against God’zzz plan! The first fall since the Angelic war. - -Yes, well, we’ll consider which version to go with, eventually, but the important thing is that we can agree on how to take action. I believe we have the perfect agent for this mission!- - We’ll contact our own immediately zzz.- said Beelzebub.

Gabriel was already rubbing his hands in anticipation when a bothersome thought crossed his mind - ...You don’t actually intend to take those two back, do you?- - Off course not zzz! They are dangerouzzz and subverzzzive, especially together. We might not know how they escaped their sentence but they do. Let’zzz make them take care of each other. By the time we’re through with them zzz, it’ll be Crowley himself to kill off that chubby, impertinent angel.- - ooor Aziraphale to eliminate that sappy, depressed demon.- -Whatever!- - I’m glad that we agree.- Said Gabriel offering a hand to shake but Beelzebub seemed to have no intention of shaking back.

When Gabriel took sight of how dirty and disgusting her hands were he immediately pulled his own back. - Zzzz What about that ‘other’ matter? Have you seen into it or zzz have you truly come here to try my patience and destroy my sense of smell zzz with that garbage you’ve got on you? UH, what is it?- Beelzebub asked wrinkling her nose. -It’s cologne: ‘Old Spice’.- The angel answered proudly. - It’zzz disgusting!- - Anyway, I did my homework and I think we have the perfect subject. Adam Young proved to be a poor Antichrist but I feel our new, little friend will fare better.-                      

[Ch. 1: A World for Two]

https://elionwriter.tumblr.com/post/656426753918664704/good-omens-a-world-for-three-chapter-1