#I say bolt upright when he did that on my first view like WAIT IS THAT THE EARLOBE TUG OF OH NO HE’S HOT??

[avelera]

Man, it has been ages since I read this fantasy novel where a male character tugged on his earlobe as an accidental sign that he was attracted to someone (Wheel of Time, for the curious) and it’s not a gesture I think I’ve ever seen in the real world, quite possibly it’s regional, but I was suddenly and violently reminded of that little character detail when THIS MAN:

Hob Gadling in The Sandman started doing it while looking at Dream right after they (sort of) saved each other’s lives from those thugs. And if it IS a regional tell of finding someone attractive, then I’m going to venture to guess this gesture was a deliberate acting choice.

Which is to say I think we can pinpoint the EXACT second that Hob began to consciously or subconsciously have a crush on Dream with that little gesture above and I’m going to say it’s way too deliberate of a gesture to not be intentional.

#the sandman #dreamling #Hob Gadling #dreamgadling #I say bolt upright when he did that on my first view like WAIT IS THAT THE EARLOBE TUG OF OH NO HE’S HOT?? #aside: dear lord Ferdinand Kingsley is hot as Hob #like way to take an awesome character then make him 100x more attractive with an actor this charming #maybe someone out there can tell me if they’ve also heard of or seen the earlobe tug as a attraction gesture idk #sandman meta

[justmeinadaze]

Can I request a steddie fix basically it’s the end of season 4 where reader is saying Eddie and they’re really in love and he does in the upside down and Steve has to like drag her out. Then maybe something happens in the future where Steve comforts her and then end up sleeping together and dating and then maybe they figure out how to get back into the upside down and Kas Eddie/Eddie ( who survived ) see them together and gets jealous and yeah whatever from there :)

I hope I did you justice! :)

Mine (Vampire Eddie X Y/N)

Warnings: Vampire Eddie X Human Fem Reader, SMUT, of the rougher variety between Eddie and Y/N, biting (of course), mentions of drinking blood on both sides, brief mentions of intimacy between Steve and reader, ANGST, Reader dreams of Eddie's death multiple times, Eddie is definitely jealous and possessive especially at first. mentions of events in the show, mentions on grief and the pain of losing a partner (feeling numb, lost).

Word Count: 3246

“No! No, Steve, please!”

“Y/N, we can’t stay here! We have to go back!”

“We can’t leave him here! Please! I love him!”

You bolt upright in your bed, screaming Eddie’s name as the upside down faded around you and your room fully came into view. 

It had only been a few months since your battle with Vecna but the nightmares were still consistent. It played out the same every time. Eddie riding away from you with one of the bikes that had been abandoned out front. You catching up to him just as the bats were swarming him. You trying to fight with him only to be pinned down as well. Hearing the sound of his screams as they bit into him while you waited for your turn.

Just as you were about to be their next meal, the storm dissipated and there was a loud crashing thud as the bats fell from the sky. You crawled over to him and tenderly turned his face to meet yours as you watched him struggle through the pain. 

“Baby…baby, please. I love you so much. Just hang on, ok?”

“Okay.” His eyes scanned over you as his shaky fingers caressed the reddening skin around your neck. “Idiot.”, he chuckled, coughing on his blood.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.���, you forced a smile.

“Mine.”, he whispered with a smile of his own.

The gang found you guys like that and you begged Steve to save him, to bring him back with you but he couldn’t. They didn’t have the strength to carry all of you through. The girls helped maneuver Dustin while Steve lifted you in his arms. 

“STEVE! NO!! NO PLEASE!”

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”, he cried. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Rising to your feet, you shuffle into the bathroom and get ready to begin your day. 

***

Every day since your boyfriend Eddie Munson had died felt like it dragged on into eternity without him there to make you laugh or smile. You missed his corny jokes or his passion when he would tell you about a D&D campaign he was working on. You constantly felt like you were living in a trance, walking around on autopilot as you did your job at the local Hawkins market before heading home to curl up in bed where you would put on one of his shirts and cry yourself to sleep. You prayed you would dream about his arms wrapped around you or his soft kisses and whispers of adoration that warmed your heart but every night the dream remained the same. 

“Hey honey.”

“Shit.”, you jumped as you dropped the stock you were holding. “Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“No, no. It’s ok. I should have cleared my throat or something. You seemed kind of lost in thought.”

“Yeah…I always am these days. I just—”

“You miss him. I understand that.”, he sighs as he bends down to help pick up some of the boxes that had fallen from your grasp. “Dustin misses him to. Today I went over to his place and he tried to explain some of his nerdy game to me. It just, woooo, went right over my head.”, he chuckles before offering you a soft smile. “But I’m trying, ya know.”

“You’re a good man, Steve Harrington.”

“Y/N, I was thinking, how much do you know about Eddie’s game?”

“Dungeons & Dragons? Oof Not enough to actually play but he always explained it to make sense.”, you giggle at the memory. 

“Do you want to maybe come over or I can come to you and you can just give me a quick rundown? That way Dustin and I can play.”

“Um… yeah. I don’t see why not. I get off at about 7.”

***

The two of you giggled as Steve poured you another glass of whiskey while you tried going over the information you gave him again. 

“Ok so if Kas is a vampire then why did Max make fun of me when I thought Vecna was?!”

“Because at the time, goof, we didn’t know what he was. Plus, if he was a vampire we’d see more of the people we lost.” Your mood shifts as the realization of what you said sunk in. “Eddie always liked Kas… I think he used him in that last campaign he did with Hellfire. They thought Kas had killed Vecna but he was still alive. Well, till the team finished him off. I mean Lady Applejack.”, you smile as you take a sip of your beverage. 

“Lady Applejack?”

“Erica.”

“Oh. I like that. That’s cute.”, Steve grins. “Did you have a name?”

“Eddie always said I was Y/N the Devine. My character would be an oracle who could see the future.”, you laughed. “He always thought it was funny I could remember all my dreams. He said if anything ever happened to him…he’d talk to me through them.”

Placing his drink on the table, the man beside you collects you into his strong arms as you sob. 

“It’s ok, Y/N. Everything’s ok.”

“I miss him so much, Steve.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t get him back to you.”

Wiping your eyes, you lean back as you sigh, scanning the man over as he reached for his glass and chugged back what was left inside. Drunk on the liquor and your grief, you didn’t think twice as your palm grasped Steve’s chin, turning him to face you, and crashing your lips to his. 

“Y/N…Y/N wait. W-What are you doing?”, he breathed as he hovered near your mouth, his hand petting your head as he moved your hair away from your face. 

“I’m sorry. I just…I just wanted to feel something other then my pain for once. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Lifting you in his arms, he carried you to his bedroom, and made love to you till you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

Your eyes shot open at the sound of thunder, red lightening briefly illuminating the sky before it disappeared behind the black clouds. You could still feel Steve’s arms around your hip but something wasn’t right. His room seemed darker and grungier than when you fell asleep. 

As your gaze shifted around taking everything in, you were startled by a figure at the end of the bed. 

“E-E-Eddie?”

His long hair was blocking most of his face but you could just barely make out his lips formed into a thin line. His outfit was torn and caked in blood where the bats had bit into him. A low growl left his throat before he turned around and slowly left the room. 

Quickly, you threw off the covers, grabbing one of Steve’s shirts and throwing it over your head as you followed him down the stairs. When you turned a corner into the kitchen, he was suddenly gone.

“Eddie? Baby, where are you?”

In the blink of an eye, a hand grabbed your arm, turning you around roughly and pinning you to the wall. You panicked for only a moment, reaching out to caress his face.

“I-It’s me, baby. Do you remember? Y/N?!” As you began to cry, his hand released you just long enough to dry you tears with his fingers. “I miss you so much. Sometimes…sometimes I wish I had died with you.”

Snaking his palm to the back of your head, his thumb was still long enough to run along your bottom lip.

“Mine.”

Your eyes shot open as you began to scream, scaring Steve awake as he tried to calm you. 

“Y/N! It’s ok! Everything’s ok! You’re safe, honey…you’re safe.”, he cooed as he held you to his chest. 

“He…he…he was here, Steve. Eddie was here. I saw him. He was right here in your room.”

“Y/N, it was just a dream. You’re alright.”

“No! No…”, you cried as you jumped out of bed and flew down his stairs. Your eyes scanned his kitchen but everything was as it had been last night. When you turned back around you were met with concerned honey eyes. “I’m not crazy, Steve! I swear…I could feel him. He was so cold and he smelled metallic like blood. We have to go back.”

“What? Y/N, no.”, the man said sternly as he grabbed your arm. After glaring at his hand, he immediately let you go but hurriedly followed after you as you ran back up the stairs to get your clothes. “You can’t go there alone.”, he sighed as he began getting put together as well. 

“Steve, I’ll be fine—”

“This isn’t a debate, Y/N. If you insist on going back there then I’m going with you.”

############

The sound of Eddie’s old trailer door squeaked loudly as Steve cautiously pulled it open. Wayne had been moved to a new place a long time ago and the people at the lab had long abandoned this place, closing down the park as a whole so no one would come this way. Of course, that didn’t stop some of the high school kids from sneaking in and spray painting “FREAK” on the side under his window.

You glanced around the dark interior as memories flashed through your mind, his bedroom door still open as if waiting for its occupant to return home. You actually hadn’t been in his room since he was on the run. A strong urge coursed through you to go look but you pushed it down as you watched Steve grab a chair and hoist himself through the hole in the ceiling before falling on his feet on the other side. 

“Wait there ok? I’ll take a look and if I find anything I’ll come get you.”

You nodded silently praying as he disappeared.

***

Bat drawn, Steve slowly opened the trailer door and maneuvered down the steps. With just a quick glance everything looked the same as they had left it a few months ago. Breaking into a sprint, he ran to where he knew Eddie’s body would be. Hell, he had nightmares to of your screams when they pried your hand from the metalhead’s. He blamed himself constantly but he didn’t know how to make it up to you. 

Was there a way to make up for something like that?

He always saw you on his way to work as you stocked shelves in the front window of the market. Your eyes that were once so full of life seemed empty now. When you told him last night you just wanted to feel something, he desperately wanted to help. You clung to him so tightly after every orgasm he gave you, as if he too would be gone when the pleasant feeling ended. 

Steve couldn’t help but wonder if you would allow him to take you on a proper date. You were always so kind to everyone and extremely beautiful. It didn’t surprise him that Eddie was drawn to you. He didn’t want you to feel like he used you last night just because the opportunity arose. He genuinely wouldn’t mind getting to know you better and maybe the two of you could heal together. 

As his feet skidded to a stop, Steve’s eyes widened as he looked around. 

The makeshift shield and weapon he and Henderson had made were laying haphazardly on the ground next to where Eddie’s body should have been but was now vacant.

“Y/N.”, he whispered, running back towards the trailer. 

***

Steve said to stay put but it wouldn’t hurt for you to look around his room. You of all people knew it wasn’t very far from the living area. 

Memories hit you like a ton of a bricks; a montage of a life you no longer had or would have. 

“Eddie! Stop!”, you giggled as he pretended to nibble on your neck. “That feels weird.”

“You’re weird! It’s supposed to be sexy, sweetheart.”

You smile as he stands in the middle of his room playing his guitar while obnoxiously singing in your direction. 

“I can see what you're looking for I know what you want from me.”

Eddie bends down till his face is just inches from yours and your smile widens. 

“And I'm gonna give you more

I'm gonna slide it in, right to the top Slide it in, I ain't never gonna stop.”

“You’re a pervert you know that?!”

“I love you to!”

Your fingers gently trace his tattoos including the one he had just gotten fairly recently of your name near his heart while Eddie played with your hair. You wanted to do the same but you knew your mom would kill you if she ever found out you got a tattoo. 

“What are you thinking about, babe?”

The metalhead takes a long drag of his cigarette before squishing it in the nearby ashtray. 

“I’m going to graduate this year, princess. Once I get that fucking diploma, I’ll get a good job so we can move into our own place and I can take care of you.”

As you tilt your head to look up him, he does the same and leans down to kiss your lips. 

“Then we’ll get married and pop out a bunch of kids.”

“Oh?”, you laugh as he holds you tighter. “You’re just excited to make them but you won’t be pushing them out!”

The tears started to fall as you slowly took everything in, walking towards his closet, and allowing your fingers to graze his clothes. Everything still smelled so much like him and it killed you. 

“Y/N?!”

You head turned at the sound of Steve shouting your name and you hastily ran to the hallway, freezing when you realized you saw a figure staring up into the gate, smirking. As his head fell back down, Eddie’s smile faded as his eyes met yours. 

“Am…Am I dreaming again?”

Moving in a blur, you were abruptly lifted off your feet and slammed down hard onto the mattress with him on top of you pinning your wrists. Almost like a feral animal, he pressed his nose to your neck before sniffing along your cheek up to your hair. 

“Mine.”, Eddie growled. 

“Always.”, you replied in fear at this new behavior. “I’ve always been yours.”

“LIAR!”, he shouts making you jump. 

“No! No, Eddie. Wh-what happened with Steve and I…I was the first time. I swear. I ju-just wanted to feel something. I’ve been so numb since I lost you. I thought about you every day!”

Your boyfriend continued glare at you with angry vacant eyes that broke your heart.

“Do you even remember me?” When he doesn’t respond, you push against his hold on one of your hands and to your surprise he lets it go. Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you point to your name along his skin. “Y/N. That’s me, baby.”

Lifting your shirt, you exposed the new tattoo of his name you had gotten on your heart a week after he died. He blinked a couple of times as if trying to gather his thoughts or even gather as many memories as he could. His cold fingers caressed the ink making you shudder as palm grazed your breast. 

Something that looked like recognition flashed through his eyes before they darkened once more and he pinned you back down against his bed. 

“Mine.”

Aggressively, he rips your shirt causing you to groan as his tongue licks up your chest to your throat. Your legs clasp around his waist as he grinds against your center while your hips begin to roll to meet his movements.  

“Mine…”, Eddie murmurs one last time before you feel something sharp break the skin on your neck. 

“Ah! E-Eddie…what are you…fuck…”

The man’s large palm holds your head still as slurping sounds fill your ears. Your body suddenly feels like it’s on fire and the only thing that can ease the burn is him. Reaching between you two, you fumble with his belt and push down his pants before doing the same with your own. He grunts into your neck as you guide him into your entrance, his pace promptly setting at hard and rough. 

“Yes, baby, please. Fuck, you feel so fucking good. I missed you so much.”

“Mmm—Y/N.”

Tears flooded your face at the sound of him saying your name and abruptly clung to your back as he flipped over placing you on top of him. After lifting off his shirt, he slashed his nail along your name on his flesh and forcefully yanked your lips to the wound. 

“Princess…mine. You…drink.”

Eddie mewled as your tongue collected some of the dark blood that had fallen down his chest and his grip on your head loosened as he ran his fingers through your hair. As you began to drink from him, your hips began to bounce allowing his cock to punch into the sensitive spot inside you driving you crazy. 

“Fuck…pretty girl. That’s…it.”

A loud crashing sound echoed from living room but it didn’t phase either of you as Eddie began thrusting upward to meet your movements. 

“Y/N.”, Steve winced as he hobbled into the room. 

Shakily, he reached for your arm but just as his fingers touched your bicep, you came off Eddie  with a pop and violently pushed the boy’s chest, hurtling him onto the floor near the closet. 

“Mine.”, you snarled, baring a new set of fangs that frightened Steve in his place.

The metalhead chuckled as he swiveled you back to face him, passionately kissing your lips as he pounded up into you. Your body trembled as you both climaxed together; just how you were meant to be…together. 

Panting, you fell to his side and began to whine as your body curled into a ball. Eddie sat up and swung his feet over the edge before reaching for the long abandoned pack of cigarettes on his nightstand and lighting the end. 

“What did you do to her?”, Steve murmured as he listened to you moan in what sounded like pain. 

The metalhead glanced in your direction before taking a drag of the smoke in his hand. 

“I made her mine forever.”

“You…you’re hurting her…”

“Hmm nah. Baby girl is just hungry. Would you like to ease her pain, Stevie? Seems like something you’re interested in now a days.”

“I don’t want to be whatever you are.”

“Trust me, you won’t be. We need you as is anyway for what’s about to happen.”

“Wh-What’s about to happen?”

Smirking, Eddie tapped your hip and you rolled over, sliding to the floor, and crawling slowly over to him. 

“Please…hungry.”, you begged with wide eyes. “Hurts.”

Clenching his jaw, Steve rolled up his sleeve and offered you his wrist which you gladly accepted as you brought it to your lips and curled up in lap. The boy grunt as you fed, leaning his head against the wall so he could glare at Eddie. 

“He’s alive, Steve. I can feel it.”

“Who is?”

Taking another drag of his cigarette, he sighs in slight annoyance that he even has to tell him. Sliding on to the floor as well, he places himself right in front of him, and pries your teeth from his arm. With a small, content smile, you lean your forehead into Steve’s neck and fall into the most peaceful sleep you had had in months. Eddie grins softly as he caresses your cheek before meeting the other man’s eyes with a stern look of his own. 

“Vecna.”

############### Eddie Asks

#eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn stranger things #fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #writing requests #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x reader

[eternalglitch]

So sometimes I take part of a Like Father Like Son chapter and redo it from another perspective, as the way I write means that the narrator’s thoughts are incredibly influential as to what details actually get depicted to the audience. You can see an example of that in Chapter 13: Talk to Me where I redid Donnie meeting Leo for the first time again in Leo’s POV. 

One of my close friends, @dovelydraws, wanted to know more about Chapter 21: Flatline’s events from other perspectives, especially after I mentioned Donnie didn’t hear an important piece of dialogue and. Well. Who am I to say no to that. They then went crazy and added some art, so they’ll put that under this post.

This is a rougher cut of my writing, and has the warnings of panic attacks and temporary character death. And heavy spoilers, of course. The rest is under the read more!

Mikey’s POV

Sparks and stars danced in Mikey’s eyes, but he kept staring at two of the three suns that his life revolved around. Waiting, waiting, watching, unable to help. Not able to code, not able to hold onto Leo or Raph to try and weather against this storm. Raph’s eyes looked almost feverish when that shock ended, and Mikey took a moment to pace back to Donnie. He reached out for comfort out of instinct; his fingers curled into a fist before they touched Donnie’s back. The collar sounded again, and Mikey hurried back to stand sentinel by Raph’s side, as if his presence could help guide them through the pain. It was a childish thought. It was a naive thought. It was a thought fit for the Mikey of a month ago, not the Mikey of today. The air around Raph felt different this time, however; like the smell of ozone before a lightning strike. Raph was peering down at Leo, who’s eyes had started to almost go glassy, their brother clearly weakening. With a crackle, the collar roared back to life, Mikey’s pupils burning as they constricted. He refused to look away or close his eyes. If Raph was the one not to let go, Mikey would not look away. The scream that Mikey heard next was the first time he had ever heard something like that come out of his older brother. As Raph crumpled to both knees, slumping forwards for a moment, eyes fluttering shut and his grip on Leo slipping, the red eared slider’s legs sliding onto the floor, Mikey had a terrible, terrible feeling. “Raph? Raph!” Mikey cried, finally daring to touch Raph’s shoulder. It was hot to the touch, and smoke drifted off of the collar. Raph’s head bobbed slightly and then he bolted back upright, gasping for breath, instantly focusing in on Leo, arms shaking as he pulled him closer than before. There’s another beep. Mikey couldn’t get a good enough view of Leo to see how he was doing, but Raph almost fainting terrified him. They couldn’t wait, Donnie would know what to do; maybe a way to divert the shock instead, or… or something, Donnie had said Mikey’s brothers were going to die and they were not allowed to die– “Donnie–” Mikey started to ask, his voice shaking, but Donnie didn’t turn around. “Stop distracting me!” he snapped, not looking up from his screens. Mikey could see his reflection in them, and Mikey knew. He knew that Donnie was terrified, too. “I know, I know I know I know but I’m so close just let me think–” he abruptly stilled, his chin lifting slightly. Mikey turned back to Raph and Leo, knowing Dee had his hands full. But so did Raph. He had gone still, pulling away from Leo for a long, lingering moment as he stared at his face. “Leo?” he muttered to himself, confused. He looked up and met Mikey’s eyes before he gently shook Leo in his arms. “Leo–” their brother’s head rolled listlessly to the side, one arm falling to the ground. Mikey felt the floor drop out from under him. “No. No, no, no,” Raph whispered, each no growing loudly, more frantic, as the collar let out another tone–  this one slightly different, longer and a single note, but Mikey didn’t care what sound it made as much as what it might do next. “Donnie?” he asked, and his voice caught, Raph having to try again. “Donnie I think– Donnie I think Leo’s dead. Tell me how to help him,” he started to blubber. Mikey started to shake, his lungs suddenly deciding that the faster he breathed, the less he was able to actually take in oxygen. He tried to say something, anything, but his lungs spasmed, and Mikey staggered slightly, legs threatening to collapse. He managed to turn, getting a hazy look of Donnie’s back just as Donnie turned his head to look over his shoulder. His eyes widened, expression dropping, as Raph yelled at him. A moment later, Mikey finally managed to get something, anything, out past the grip on his throat. He fell to his knees by his brother and screamed.

Raph’s POV

“I won’t drop you.” He had promised. He had promised his little brother that, he had told him that and he had meant it, because that was his job. He was supposed to watch out for them, keep them safe, but Raph had failed. He had failed when Leo was first taken, he had failed when they didn’t find him sooner, he had failed when rescue attempts one and two ended in bitter failure. And, as he came to just as the pain receded again, he found himself failing Leo yet again, his brother almost slipping out of his arms as Raph snapped back to the awake world. Everything hurt. It hurt so much, like Raph had taken fifty kicks to each part of his body. But it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the time Donnie had yelled at him about the phone call, or every day that followed after that. And it couldn’t hurt Raph more than it hurt Leo, who was still in his arms, not even squirming as Raph pulled him closer. “Raph? Raph!” Mikey cried, and a hand brushed against his shoulder. Raph wanted to reassure Mikey, but his arms prickled and throbbed wherever he touched Leo, the pain distracting him with its intensity. There’s another beep, and Raph’s stomach sinks. “Donnie–” Mikey started to say, and Raph shifted Leo again, trying to get a better read on his face. He didn’t know how many more shocks he himself could take, so his younger brother, with the shock collar directly around his neck, was even more of a concern. Donnie shortly said something to Mikey, but Raph no longer was listening. Leo’s eyes were still open slightly, but they stayed that way, staring just a little over Raph’s shoulder up at the ceiling. What? No. He pulled away from Leo for a long, lingering moment as he kept staring at his face, waiting for yet another terrible punchline from his snarky younger brother. He hadn’t heard a good joke in a while. “Leo?” he muttered to himself, confused. He looked up and met Mikey’s eyes before he gently shook Leo in his arms, trying to shake Leo back awake, because if he was passed out– if he was asleep– it was better not to feel the pain that was about to follow but Leo needed to move and he needed to show Raph that he was okay because Raph was suddenly, horribly, terrifyingly worried. “Leo–” his little brother’s head rolled listlessly to the side, one arm falling to the ground. When had he died? How had Raph not noticed, he should have noticed. “No. No, no, no,” Raph whispered, each no growing louder, more frantic, as the collar let out another tone–  this one slightly different, longer and a single note, but there was no time to care about the device anymore when Leo was... “Donnie?” Raph asked, his arms shaking, voice catching, too quiet to get Dee’s attention so Raph had to try again. “Donnie I think– Donnie I think Leo’s dead. Tell me how to help him,” he started to blubber, panic crashing over him. He didn’t know what to do. Yet again, he didn’t know what to do, how to help Leo. One way or another, this was the last time Raph would make this mistake.

#glitch writes #lfls #rottmnt lfls #like father like son #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #angst #rottmnt fanfic #my writing #lfls spoilers #reblog the one w dove's art thank you AHA

[isabellavolere]

Transformers Prime—Part 5: Victories Short-Lived

Masterlist

<-Previous Part

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Vroom, vrooom! You groggily wake up, lifting an eye as you hear a car revving its engine. You roll onto your side and try to go back to sleep when you hear the car rev again, this time a little bit louder than before. 

What idiot’s revving his car engine on a Saturday morning? What a jerk. 

All of a sudden you bolt upright as you realize the car engine belongs to Cliffjumper. Getting out of bed, you jog to the front of your house and open the front door, leaning out of the door frame. To your astonishment, Cliffjumper is parked in the driveway, headlights flashing in greeting.

“Are you crazy?” You ask in a hushed tone. “What are you doing parked in the driveway? If my parents catch you they will go crazy!”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Cliffjumper sarcastically. “Don’t worry, your parents left about an hour ago.”

You frown and step outside, closing the door behind you. Walking over to Cliffjumper you say

“Well I’m glad your loud engine didn’t wake them up like it did for me. Do you know where they went?”

“No idea. Besides, I was getting bored sitting in your driveway so I decided to wake you up. We can head to the base and watch cartoons,” says Cliffjumper excitedly. “Wait, do you even like cartoons?” He asks.

You shrug one of your shoulders and reply, “I don’t mind them.”

“Great, let's get going. But maybe change out of your pajamas first.”

You look down at your black tank top and knee length plaid shorts and grin sheepishly. 

“Yeah maybe. Be back in a flash!” You say and race back inside. 

You put on a vintage Star Wars shirt and denim jean shorts, brush through your hair, put it in a ponytail, and then tie your f/c bandana around your forehead. 

After a quick once over in the mirror you slip on some shoes and walk back outside. As you walk back to Cliffjumper you can hear the hum of a motor and are surprised to see Arcee pull into your driveway with Jack straddled on top. He’s wearing a white motorcycle helmet with a tinted visor that he quickly takes off as he dismounts, tucking it away before walking over to you.

“Good morning Jack. What brings you two here?” You ask, curious as to how he and Arcee found your house.

“Morning y/n. Me and Arcee were just out for a little drive and uh, thought we’d see if you guys were still here,” he said, glancing back to Arcee.

“Out for a little drive huh?” Asks Cliffjumper.

“We were just heading back to base,” says Arcee.

“Wanna race?” You turn to Jack and say mischievously.

“Oh, bring it!” Says Jack, turning to grab his helmet.

You walk over to Cliffjumper and hop in the passenger seat. 

“A race, huh?” Cliffjumper asks as he backs out of the driveway.

“Oh come on, a 1969 Dodge Challenger like you can go from 0-60 in 5.2 seconds, you can totally smoke them!” You say enthusiastically.

“Well I know that,” Cliffjumper laughs as he lines up with your house’s rusty mailbox.  

Arcee and Jack pull up to the right of you and you roll down the window.

“Ready to lose, Jack?” You ask in a teasing voice.

“You wish,” comes Jack's reply, muffled slightly by the helmet. 

You smirk and roll up the window, getting ready for the race.

“On your marks, get set, GO!” Yells Arcee, and both her and Cliffjumper shoot off, wheels screeching. 

The force of the acceleration pushes you backward and you whoop loudly as cacti and other landscape rushes past you. Arcee was fast, you had to give her that, but as you watch, Cliffjumper slowly begins creeping up on her. You lean over and watch the line on the speedometer go up and up, marking 60 mph, 70, 80. You were going faster and faster and soon enough, you were in the lead. The speedometer now marks 92 mph and the desert is only a blur as you hurtle down the road. Looking in the rear view mirror, you grin as you see Arcee and Jack a few inches behind Cliffjumpers’ bumper.

“You know, for a two wheeler Arcees’ not doing too bad, huh?” Says Cliffjumper, and you can practically see the smirk on his face.

“Yeah, but if she really wasn’t doing too bad she wouldn’t be behind us,” you tease.

Cliffjumper lets out a boisterous laugh and says “That’s true. How fast are we going anyway?”

You look down at the speedometer and reply “Cruising at 107. Not bad for a muscle car!” 

Cliffjumper laughs again and says “No, not bad at all.”

A large mesa towers over the car and you recognize it as the one the Autobot base is hidden in. Cliffjumper slows down and drives through the tunnel. The thrill of the race catches up to you and you can’t help but beam as Cliffjumper parks and lets you out, transforming after you’re out. You walk over to Jack and was about to tease him about losing when Optimus walks over and says “Autobots, prepare to…” but doesn’t finish the sentence. 

“Roll out?” Guesses Arcee.

“Remain here. Ratchet, Cliffjumper, you’ll come with me. Arcee, we’ll be outside of communication range for some time so I’m putting you in charge,” says Optimus.

“Aww,” you whine quietly, frowning up at Cliffjumper. “Our victory is cut short and Optimus snatches you for a mission. Not fair.”

“I know, right? Now we can’t rub our success in their faces.”

You snicker as he grins and winks at you.

“Tell you what kid, when I get back we can do a victory lap around the base, sound good?”

“Deal. Make it a quick mission, ok Cliff?” You smile.

Cliffjumper smiles slightly but drops when Optimus calls for him.

“I’ll see what I can do, y/n.” 

He walks over to Optimus and looks back at you once more before transforming and driving through the groundbridge behind Optimus. A moment of silence fills the base as the last lights of the portal dim.

“Ok, so, what’s on the activities list?” Asks Jack, turning to Arcee.

“I’m going on patrol,” she says in a bored voice.

“But Optimus told us to stay,” Bulkhead says. 

“When you’re in charge you can call the shots,” replies Arcee. “Bee, with me! Bulkhead, you’re in charge.”

With that, Arcee and Bumblebee transform and race down the tunnel, leaving you, Jack, Miko, Raf, and Bulkhead.

“And then there were five,” you mutter under your breath.

“So, um, what’s on the activity list?” Bulkhead asks. 

“How about band practice?” Miko offers and you turn to her, watching as she begins hooking up a black electric guitar to a Fender amplifier. 

“But we’re not a band,” points out Raf.

“Why so antisocial? Come on Raf, do you play anything?” She asks enthusiastically.

“Um, keyboard?” He says, lifting up his computer.

“Laptops and samples, good! Jack?” She turns a hopeful face to Jack. 

Rubbing a hand on his neck, Jack says “I, uh, sometimes mess around on the harmonica.”

“Do I look like I do country?” Asks Miko in a condescending tone. Almost desperately, Miko looks to you. “Please tell me you play something. Guitar, drums, anything?!”

“Weelll, I-I play the flute. And the violin…aand the piano. A bit.” You give her a small smile, somewhere between a grin and a grimace. 

Miko signs dramatically and raises her arms. “Well maybe you and Jack can start a bluegrass band. For now, just cover yourselves in fake blood and jump around screaming.” 

You share a look with Jack and shrug. Just then Miko starts strumming her guitar and a loud song blares out of her amplifier. You cover your ears, mirroring the other kids, but it does no good. Over the music you notice green flashing lights coming from the computer monitors, signaling  an alarm going off. Bulkhead seems to notice the alarm too because he waves at Miko to stop. 

“Oh come on!” She whines. “You can’t handle raw power?”

“Proximity sensor. Quick, hide!” Exclaims Bulkhead.

You rush to the same binding spot under the railing as the day before, and just in time, because Agent Fowler wastes no time in walking briskly into the base. Just as he walks in, you notice Mikos’ amplifier is still hooked up to her guitar, which she is still holding. 

Crap! I sure hope Agent Fowler doesn’t notice the wire coming from behind Bulkhead. What’s he yelling at Bulkhead about? Something in Nebraska? Maybe he’s too busy with Bulkhead to notice…yeah probably not.

“So,” Agent Fowler concludes. “You tell Prime that-since when are you bots electric?”

Dang it. 

“Uhh…” Bulkhead looks from you and back to Agent Fowler.

“What do we do?” You whisper shout to Jack, who grimaces and slides past you.

“Hey. How are you doing?” He asks. 

You roll your eyes, but since you have no other idea, follow the other kids. To say Agent Fowler looked bothered by the fact that four teenagers just stepped in front of him was an understatement.

“Contact with civilians! Team Prime has really gone off the rules with this one. No, don't tell me, you're running a daycare!” 

Bulkhead looks flustered and if bots could blush, you were sure he would be bright red. But with quick thinking, Jack makes up an excuse.

“We’re interns,” he begins.

“Student interns!” Raf adds.

“Earning extra credit in auto…” Jack trails off, unsure of what to say.

“Mechanics.” 

“Robotics.” 

You look to Miko and then quickly back to the agent, trying to recover the mistake.

“It’s both, cause you know, they’re cars and robots so we came here to study them for extra credit…so um…”

The look Agent Fowler sends you tints your cheeks pink, but you firmly meet his stare.

“Ok, let’s move. I’m taking you all into federal custody for your own protection,” he says, walking down the stairs towards you. 

Bulkhead steps in front of you and the other kids, firmly saying “We are protecting them.”

“Is that so? Well, maybe you can explain that to my superiors at the Pentagon,” says Agent Fowler, angrily punching numbers on a telephone hanging by the stairs. 

“Don’t use that phone! It’s…out of order,” says Bulkhead quickly, crushing the phone with one of his large fingers. 

Agent Fowler looks up at Bulkhead, and you can feel the anger practically radiating off of him.

“This isn’t over, Bigfoot! Not by a long shot!”

Agent Fowler turns around and stomps up the stairs. He stalks into the elevator, turns around, and jabs the button. The elevator door closes with a dull thud, and after a moment of silence you let out a breath, blowing stray hairs out of your face.

“Well, I don’t think that could have gone any worse,” you say.

Jack lets out a nervous laugh and Miko turns to you saying, “Did you see the look on his face when Bulkhead crushed that phone? That was awesome!” 

“I have a feeling that’s not the last we’re hearing of Agent Fowler,” Raf says.

“Maybe not, but for now we don’t have to worry about him,” you say, climbing up the rusty yellow ladder that leads to the large computers. 

You sit down in one of the chairs, replaying the last few moments in your head.

Agent Fowler backed off pretty quickly to Bulkhead. For a guy who puts on this ‘tough guy’ act, he doesn’t seem to want to pick a fight with the Autobots. Interesting.

You log on to one of the human sized computers, hoping to see where Cliffjumper, Optimus, and Ratchet are. You turn around when you hear the other kids climb the stairs and head to the tv, Miko tuning it on and lazily flipping through stations until she finds an interesting one. You sign and shake your head as Miko and Jack begin to argue about the station, turning back to the computer. 

All is quiet for a few moments before an alarm blares through the base and the computer screen flashes brightly in your face. You cover your ears with your hand, but it does little to muffle the sound. 

“My ears!” Whines Raf, or at least that’s what you think he said.

“It’s an S.O.S. From Fowler,” comments Bulkhead, pulling up the alarm on one of the computer monitors. 

“Did you trace it?” Asks Raf.

“Hm, location scan incomplete. Oh well,” says Bulkhead, shrugging. 

“Oh well?” Asks Jack incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Fowler’s a jerk!” Retorts Bulkhead.

“Whether you like the guy or not, the Decepticons may have him!”

“Jack’s right,” you say, frowning. “And Agent Fowler knows the location of the Autobot base. If the Decepticons interrogate him, I bet they’ll make him talk.”

“Yeah, y/n has a point. I mean, didn’t we all see how fast Fowler backs down from a bot? The Decepticons will totally make him squeal!” Adds Miko.

“But we lost the transmission. Fowler could be anywhere,” says Bulkhead. 

“Maybe I can narrow it down.” Says Raf as he sits in a chair next to you.

He grabs a laptop from his backpack and types furiously while explaining, “About five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents. You know, like owners do with pets.”

“Raf’s right. That’s what they had to do to my dad when he joined the army,” you say, watching Raf’s laptop screen. Jack and Miko look from you to Raf with confused and slightly concerned expressions on their faces.

“What? I saw it on tv,” defends Raf. “Anyway, if I can hack into the Fed’s mainframe, maybe I can pinpoint Fowler's coordinates.”

“You know how to hack? But you’re like, two years old!” Exclaims Miko.

“Twelve,” corrects Raf. “And a quarter!”

“Hmm, if you work on that, I can try logging into the mainframe,” you say, sitting at one of the computers. “If I can find the transmission from Agent Fowler, I can access the last coordinates transmitted from his helicopter.”

“You too?” Asks Miko, throwing up her hands. 

Raf looks up at you and you meet his gaze, intrigue flicking through his eyes before you turn back to your work. 

A few minutes later you pump your fist in the air triumphantly as you call out “I got it! Latitude 39.5 degrees north, 116.9 degrees west.”

“Ok, wait here,” says Bulkhead, already typing the coordinates into the groundbridge. 

“Aww, don’t break up the band!” Wines Miko. 

“Uh, Jack, you’re in charge,” says Bulkhead, ignoring Miko. 

He rushes through the groundbridge, leaving us alone. 

“And then there were four,” you say dully.

“I guess we have the run of the place,” shrugs Jack.

“I guess so. Hey Miko, do you-Miko? Miko!” 

You scan the base but don’t see her. Looking again, your eyes lock with Jack and you can see worry flash across his face.

“What should we do?” He asks.

“Bulkhead may have not even realized she’d follow him!” Raf exclaims.

“Miko hasn’t seen the cons’ in action like we have. She has no idea,” says Jack.

Your head swims with visions of the cons doing all sorts of horrible things to Miko.

Oh, foolish girl! Why did you follow Bulkhead? He’s supposed to be your guardian but he can’t protect you from everything!

“Are the coordinates still locked into the groundbridge?” Asks Raf.

“Yep, still there,” you nod.

“Y/n, can you turn the ground bridge on from the computer?” Jack asks.

“Uh, yeah I think so,” you say, and start pulling up the ground bridge access.

“Good, fire it up. You’re in charge,” he says as he steps down the ladder.

Making up your mind, you take a breath and say “uh, now you’re in charge,” as you head towards the ladder.

“In charge of who?” You hear Raf say as you slide down to the ground floor.

“Jack, wait,” you say, running to Jack.

Jack stops and turns around, waiting for you to catch up with a silent question in his eyes. 

“What, you didn’t think I’d let you try and rescue Miko all alone did you? I’m coming with you,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you felt. 

He looks over at you and nods once, a fierce determination set in his eyes. You close your eyes and take a deep, steadying breath, readying yourself for the battle you felt was sure to come. You open them and look over to Jack, nodding your head once, to tell him you were ready. 

“Here goes nothing,” you say, stepping closer to the groundbridge.

“Jack, y/n, wait! I’m coming too,” says Raf, running next to you. 

You reach the groundbridge first with Jack and Raf following close behind you. You jump through the groundbridge, which feels like an assault on your senses. Bright purple and green lights swirl around you, which looks like the aurora borealis was turned into a portal. A loud sound somewhere between a whooshing and a buzzing can be heard, and when you jump out of the portal, what meets your eyes is worse than you could have imagined. You are in the middle of a wide rocky canyon, and what else is in the middle of the canyon but the freaking Decepticon warship! 

Oh. Not good.

With your gaze transfixed on the warship, flashbacks of the first time you saw the ship cross your mind. You don’t even register that a few Decepticons come out of the ship with their guns loaded and ready to fire until you hear Bulkhead and Miko scream your name, which snaps you out of your stupor. The Decepticons begin firing and you, Jack and Raf dodge the blasts. Raf starts walking backwards, but he loses his footing and falls over, curling into a ball to make himself as small as possible. Without thinking you launch yourself on top of Raf, shielding his body with yours. Hearing a honking noise, you look up to see Bulkhead in his alternate form pulling up next to you, doors opening so you, Raf, and Jack can jump in quickly. You dive through the passenger door and scoot over to the driver side of the car, Jack sitting next to you and Raf sitting in the backseat. 

After receiving our thanks, Bulkhead asks “What are you doing here?”

“We were worried about Miko!” Have you seen her?” Asks Jack.

“She’s in the backseat, Jack,” you say, looking through the rear view mirror and making eye contact with the girl. 

She gives you a guilty grin and you roll your eyes. After driving behind a big boulder Bulkhead stops and opens the doors.

“Everyone out! And this time, please wait here,” begs the green bot, driving away. 

He drives up a sort of ramp and starts climbing up the side of the canyon.

Ha like Miko’s going to do that. I bet she’s not even here.

You look around you and sure enough, Miko is nowhere to be seen. You sigh dramatically, like a tired parent, and scan the canyon for Miko. Not seeing her, you figure she’s probably still inside of Bulkhead. At least she has a better chance with Bulkhead then roaming around the canyon, being an easy target. 

“Wait, where’s Miko?” Asks Jack worriedly.

Took you long enough. Luckily I’m way ahead of you Jack.

“Probably up there with Bulkhead,” you say, scanning the canyon walls. “If I can only figure out a way to get up to the warship,” you mutter.

“What if a Decepticon took us up there?” Jack asks in a worried voice.

“Hmm, that might work if we can find one,” you say, still focused on the canyon walls.

“I think we just did,” says Raf.

You turn around and are face to face with two purple Decepticons.

Well, that’s not ideal.

Masterlist

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#Transformers prime #x reader #female reader #cliffjumper #optimus prime #arcee #bumblebee #ratchet #bulkhead #reader insert #tfp #transformers prime x reader insert

[purposefully-lost]

Bite Risk: A Conversation With the Jack Rabbit Killer, by Alexander Prescott

I hadn't seen Jonathan Stone face-to-face since before his arrest. When he'd first come into my life, he'd been a hulking figure out in the middle of a vast, lonely forest. Donned in his hand-carved rabbit mask and standing at nearly seven feet tall, he'd moved out there among the trees as something wild and deadly. It was no wonder that even before anyone knew the story was real, Jack Rabbit had captivated our minds, because everything about him in the flesh would have fit well into the most horrid of horror stories.

But for all that he was imposing when seen in his own territory, he was twice as such when viewed in prison. Jack's colossal height is only emphasized when seen next to his captors- a mix of discomforted officers and resolute nurses- and when I saw him walked into the room that day, I hadn't truly been prepared for the way he'd loom over the table that sat between us.

They bring him in on an upright gurney. His arms have been strapped down at his sides, his legs tied tightly in place so he that he cannot move. He is restricted in such a way that no matter what he does, he looks as if he is tensed; a caged animal ready to bolt the moment the door is opened. On his face, something akin to a muzzle has been strapped over his nose and lips, as if to prevent him from biting. His hair has long since been shaved away, and so his eyes, always the most striking thing about him, are entirely unobstructed. The photos and the news reels do not do Jack's eyes any justice. However piercing they may seem to you, you who have not seen him in person, however intense you believe his gaze to be, you do not know the half of it. Being under his scrutiny is like being seen, all the way through, right to the heart. At times, I think I would have preferred the knife.

He waits for me to speak first, but I know he is searching me as intently as I him.

Q: How are you, Jack?

I don't think anyone expects a man like him to have a sense of humor, but it's with humor that he responds. "A little tied up at the moment," he jokes, referring to all the trappings of his predicament. He continues, "I think they're afraid I'll grab you."

This, still said in humor. There may not be many things he and I could agree on, but there is a part of me that believes his state had been overkill on the part of his captors. They treat him, truly, as a wild animal. And though Jack is a man who has been traumatized and isolated to the point of reverting to feral instincts, he is not stupid. I have been trapped in a room with this man before. He knows, and I know he does, when doing anything of the sort would have been against his best interest. Believing in his stupidity, or thinking of him as only a captive animal and nothing more, is a mistake. They underestimate him. Regardless of what each of us thought of the situation, we quickly move on.

Q: You have been a recluse for fifteen years, with very little contact with anyone that you did not lash out at. You don't seem the type to agree to an interview. So why did you?

"Closure," is not his initial response, but it is the true one. He tries at first to deflect with a joke about having hoped it would be me, but as I said, he is smart, and he quickly moved on from that line of thought. Earnestly, he tells me, "People deserve it, I guess. I don't remember everything I've done, but what I do, I'll speak about." He hesitates as he says it, and for the first time of our meeting, he looks away from me. Facing down six consecutive life sentences with no chance for parole, he has no reason to lie. In fact, I'm not sure he ever has. The man standing in front of me carries no guilt, but he does understand what it was he'd done.

Before I can ask him anything further, he turns my own question against me. He asks why I agreed to interview him, and if I considered myself reckless or stupid. The truth is, I did not agree to this interview. I was the one to suggest it. I told him plainly the reason why: closure.

Q: I think for many people, your first murders- that of the Bakers- would be the most understandable. You knew them personally and evidence suggests an abusive upbringing under their care. But what led you to target someone else? How long after you ran did you kill again?

"I was seventeen," he says, "Maybe eighteen. I'd just finished the cabin.. Really finished it. It was a home more than a shelter." This, about the cabin I had been kept in during our initial encounter. An impressively built structure for someone all alone, especially someone who'd started out so young. Despite everything else about Jonathan Stone, there had been real care put into those walls.

He continues, seemingly with some difficulty: "It was the first time someone had wandered out far enough to see me. They tried to.. force me to leave with them and were talking about contacting the police. I panicked. It's easy to hurt someone when you think you're protecting something. I'd worked so hard to make a place for myself and I was just starting to feel.. free rather than running from something. I wasn't ready to give it up."

When I first encountered him, Jack had had clear difficulty in speaking. It'd seemed to hurt his throat, and his voice had sounded thick and rusty, as if he hadn't used it in years. In all likelihood, the only person he'd ever spoken to had been his dog. Prison seems to have softened his voice somewhat. Before this session, I'd sat in on a discussion between him and a psychologist, and it had stunned me to hear him speak as freely as he had. It still stuns me now.

"It came naturally after that," he says. "I'd let myself fall away and give into instinct. I spent so long letting people treat me badly, I supposed I thought a few missing people here and there were justified. I still think they're justified."

Q: What has been going through your mind, since the trial?

"Death," he answers, in a way far easier than one might expect. It's here that he smiles at me, as if it's funny, the thought of his own demise. "My own. I never thought I'd end up withering away in a jail cell. I should've hung myself in the back when I had a chance."

Q: Do you believe there was a point in which your life could have gone differently?

"Maybe. I never had a support system to lean on or anyone to tell me any differently. I can only imagine what intervention might've done for me. Maybe I'd be a stand-up citizen worth a damn rather than.." He does not finish this statement. Instead, he just looks at me with a bitter smile, locking his gaze to mine as if I already know the answer. I suppose I do. I can't say it's one I'm happy with. Whatever he is, it began in his youth, and somewhere twenty years in the past there exists a child who would grow up to be the man standing in front of me. That wild, dangerous animal. My last question is a difficult one, and very personal.

Q: Of all of your victims, there is only one you've left alive. Is there anything you have left to say to me?

"It couldn't have been anyone else."

Things move quickly after this statement. Before I can ask for an elaboration or discuss anything further, his entourage of nurses and prison guards begin to wheel him from the room. There is a moment in which he struggles, but then a syringe is inserted firmly into his neck, and he slumps in his gurney. The officer next to me exclaims "How creepy," as he's wheeled away, a sentiment I've heard repeated more than once between the staff of this place in regards to Jack. They all seem to be uneasy in his presence, and I have to wonder if they are like this around all inmates, or only one as strange or with such a large stature as him. I have to wonder, knowing his sense of humor, how Jack responds to such treatment.

I linger in the interview room for a long few moments. This was likely the last time I will ever face Jonathan Stone in person. And though I came here looking for closure, I've found myself with a thousand new questions. The staff say that he was well-behaved when he first came in, but that after his sentencing, he has become more volatile, as if his own fate hangs over him. Jonathan Stone, Jack Rabbit, once a predator that stalked through Appalachia like any mountain lion or black bear, now set to die between cold concrete walls and under unrelentingly bright lights whenever his time may come. I imagine this is a difficult reality to contend with. Personally, though he lives and breathes in captivity, it will be hard to look out into the woods and not feel his gaze from behind every shadow for years to come.

In what must have been only moments, but to me felt like hours, I was ushered out of the room. I said my goodbyes and my thanks to the staff, was herded towards the lobby, and finally, stepped out into the midday sun. I hesitated there. Thank god, I thought, for sunlight, and for the freedom to walk blindly into it.

#alex leaving out the 'it wasn't luck' bit because it was too personal and too important to him.................. #also alex as an unreliable narrator my BELOVED #this was. REALLY fun to write i love being in his fucked up head #alex prescott #prey animal #drabble #hunted // rabbit

[unhealthyfanobsession]

If you’re still taking prompts:

“Keeping a secret from your best friend is difficult... but when that secret is that you're madly in love with her, it's downright impossible. At least that's what Cassian thought, until he was a little tipsy and sharing a sleeping bag with said best friend. (College, modern AU)”

With smut please?🧎🏾‍♀️🙏🏽👀🥺

Oh hey bestie! So I think maybe you had like after a college party in mind for this but I went a… different way. Also it’s only smut-adjacent because I think good smut requires a Drabble of its own I think I’m sorry. Hope you enjoy!!!

Camping.

Nesta had two weeks between the end of her internship and the beginning of her last year of college, and somehow, she let herself get dragged along on her sister’s annual camping trip.

Their whole friend group was weird and twisted around like Ivy vines with who was closest to who, who was related to who, who was dating who, who had slept with who’s father (looking at you MOR!), and Nesta tended to avoid the big group things.

But this was only Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and the real reason she was there… Cassian. Fucking Cassian dragging her off into the woods.

Nesta loved her sisters. She did. She wouldn’t spend time with them and pretend she didn’t hate their boyfriends if she didn’t love them. (Pretending not to hate Rhys and Lucien, for Nesta, pretty much required the energy of a full time job.)

She loved her sisters. But she was there for Cassian. Because she liked Cassian. Genuinely and entirely liked him. Nesta Archeron liked another human being. They’d been best friends since eighth grade when he tried to ask her out on the swing set and she elbowed him in the jaw.

Saying yes to that middle school date would’ve been the worst mistake of her life. Because then she’d have had this short drama filled relationship with Cassian and she wouldn’t have gotten to keep him. And she really loved that she got to keep him. Even if sometimes she wished he’d been her first kiss instead of Tomas.

Anyway, when he said he was going on this camping trip Nesta realized she had to go too. Because there was no way she was spending her free time somewhere that he wasn’t. He was her person. The person she wanted to spend her free time with.

“Pathetic,” Cassian grinned, plucking the pack right off of her back as if it weighed no more than a purse. As if she hadn’t been struggling under its weight for the past 4 kilometres.

“I agreed to camping. I didn’t realize a 7 hour hike was involved to get to the damn place.”

“Two hours at most, sweetheart.” Nesta scowled, pretending, as she always did, to hate his little endearments. “And all of the best spots require a hike. Otherwise they’re overcrowded.”

“Maybe overcrowded is a good thing. Maybe overcrowded means loud and safe instead of offering ourselves up to be a bear buffet.”

“I’ll protect you from any bears, I promise, Nes.”

Nesta glared. “You’re going to fight off a bear if it tries to eat me?”

“Of course I am,” Cassian nodded. “These muscles aren’t just for show.”

Nesta laughed. “How sad I’m going to lose my best friend on this trip. Don’t worry I’ll come up with something nice for the tombstone. “Here lies Cassian. Tried to fight a bear so his muscles would have a purpose.”

“I take it back, you can get eaten by the bear.”

“I’m going to shove you in front of the bear.”

Their water break had landed then both a few hundred feet behind Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel, so Cassian kept hold of her backpack as they moved, teasing her that he was still faster with two packs than she was with none.

When they arrived at the little clearing Nesta had to admit it was beautiful. Serene. A big patch of grass surrounded by trees with a stunning view over the mountains from a clearing just a few feet away.

“Worth the hike?” Cassian asked as he set up their tent. That was the deal. If Nesta was going to camp then he had to do all of the work. Because she didn’t know how to do it. Also he had to share his tent with her because seriously? Why would she own a tent? She wasn’t a damn mountain man.

“It is really pretty.”

“I told you you’d like camping, Nesta!” Feyre called out from over fifty feet away where Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta all banded together to force her and Rhys to put their tent. Far away from the other two. Nesta was so not sleeping on the ground AND listening to her little sister have sex all night.

“Cassian?” Consciousness pulled lightly through Cassian’s sleepy mind. “Cass? CASS!” He shot bolt upright, body instinctively turning to Nesta, looking her over, checking her for injuries or any other thing that might have her yelling his name into the pitch black tent.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Cassian laughed. It was probably 3am and she’d just woken him up, and still he was laughing. Man he had it bad.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He made a show of flipping around to face her even though he couldn’t really see her.

“I’m freezing.”

As his eyes adjusted, Cassian looked her over with a frown. She was bundled up in her sleeping bag, wearing his sweater… which he hadn’t given her, but he had discarded in between them before he went to sleep so that was fair game he guessed. It was far from the first time in over a decade of friendship that she’d stolen his sweater, but man… it still did something to him.

“Your sleeping bag isn’t made for below freezing temperatures, is it?”

Nesta stared at him. Blinked. “No. Why would it have to be? It’s August!”

“It’s colder up in the mountains,” Cassian explained. “Especially over night.”

“Great. I’ve been brought into the mountains to freeze to death and now Eris is going to win the gold medal for our year.”

Cassian laughed, “Well I can’t allow that. The horror.” This was probably a bad idea. No it was definitely a bad idea, but the words couldn’t be stopped from leaving his mouth once they popped into his mind. “Come share mine.”

Cassian half unzipped his sleeping bag and made a show of shuffling himself over.

“You’re too big.” She said.

“Thanks I work out,” Nesta glared at his cocky smirk. “Come on Nes, it’s this or letting Eris win the gold medal.”

Nesta huffed, but unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled over to his, her legs were cool as they tangled with his in the tight sleeping bag. Cassian pulled her in, one arm wrapping instinctively around her shoulders to pull her against his chest, before he zipped the sleeping bag up again after her.

This had been such a bad idea. But what could he do? Let her freeze?

Cassian told Nesta everything, so it was already difficult enough to be keeping a secret from his best friend... but when that secret was that he had been madly in love with her since middle school, the situation became impossible. And pulling her perfect body tight up against his and wrapping her in his arms, hands moving up and down her shoulders quickly to try and warm her up, was not helping the situation.

“Thanks,” Nesta murmured sleepily. “I’m already a lot more comfortable.”

Me too, Cassian thought but would never say.

“Hey Cass?” Nesta’s voice was teasing. “What do we do if you wake up with morning wood?”

Cassian chuckled into her hair, a little bit drunk on the familiar scent of rosehips and iron will.

“Then I guess we’ll finally have sex.” He deadpanned.

Nesta’s jaw dropped. Ok. Bad joke. “I’m not having sex with you for the first time in a tent Cassian!”

Now Cassian’s jaw dropped. That was her issue with his suggestion? “I… Nesta I was joking. But… the tent is the problem? The only problem?”

“Grow a pair!” Nesta batted at him with her hand, an impressive feat considering she was all but pinned between him and the sleeping bag. “I thought this was you finally making a move.”

Cassian stared down at her. It was pitch black, but even with just the shadowy outlines of her features, he could see her exact expression in his mind.

“I wouldn’t use you freezing as a ploy to make a move, Nesta.”

“And why not?” She humphed, “it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“It’s… coercive.”

“Do I look coerced to you, Cassian?” Nesta ran her foot up his bare calf and Cassian shuddered.

“I can’t have sex with you if you’re looking for a friends with benefits, Nes.” Nesta paused her movements. “I… fuck, our friendship means so much to me and I’m so afraid to fuck it up. And if we start having sex I won’t be able to handle it being just sex and you’ll start to resent me so we just… shouldn’t go there.”

Nesta’s arms wrapped around him now, struggling to span the full width of his chest. “And if it wasn’t just sex?”

“Please don’t fuck with me about this,” he whispered. Low and Ernest in a way he almost never was.

“What?”

“Dont joke about this if you’re playing around or I don’t… you have to know, Nes. You have to know how completely in love with you I am.”

“Yeah,” Nesta tucked her head under his chin. “I know. I’ve just been waiting for you to make a move.”

It was dark. Cassian could barely see her. But there, with his arms around his best friend in the world, sharing a sleeping bag to keep her warm, Cassian nudged her out of his chest and found her lips in the pitch black.

Why had he kept this secret for so long? Everything in the world was better when he was kissing his best friend.

#nessian #drabbles open #nesta archeron #acosf #nessian fanfiction #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar #feysand

[moonbaby26]

Title: Rare Company

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation from previous chapter. Several days after your initial meeting, Loki returns allowing some unexpected time together. And spurring you to wonder what could become of this, as well as trying to address what your own feelings might be for this new god.

Warnings: None, just fluff this chapter.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys

My Masterlist

——————————

Things had fallen back into routine after a while. Even if you still caught yourself daydreaming from time to time. You had imagined working up the nerve to ask your father for permission to visit Asgard. No one from your family had in ages from all you could tell, and what an act of diplomacy that could be.

Instead of roaming far and wide as you normally would, you had more kept to these southern seas as well. That little voice inside you wondering if Loki would return. The forest nymphs had delivered word to your sea nymphs that he had departed back through what you now knew as the bifrost the very same day you had met him.

He’d only lingered a couple more hours they’d said, seemingly in thought within the forest before he’d called out for the bridge to reopen and had disappeared the same strange way he’d come.

You had taken the form of a dolphin today, idly swimming around the fishing boats you’d come upon in open water. They should know you symbolized luck. And if they seemed grateful, you’d gladly chase more fish into their nets in your boredom.

But it was then that another group of dolphins appeared, though you recognized them instantly for the nymphs that they were.

Excitedly they darted around you.

“He’s back, that prince of Asgard! And he calls for you, milady!”

The shock had been immense. You really hadn’t known if he would return. But you’d hoped, hadn’t you? And now he was actually asking for you by name.

Of course you must go to him. You were a goddess of your word after all.

———————————

And he was at the same beach you’d been on the first day he’d appeared. Through father’s magic, you could travel the hidden currents of the deep ocean, being wherever you needed to be within minutes rather than hours or the days that it would have taken mortals.

You swam slower though as you neared the shore, still underwater as you’d taken your spear from one of the nymphs once more. He was still a stranger to you after all. Though maybe that would change? It was hard to say why he really would have returned again.

There was a nervousness that was so foreign to you as you finally swam shallow enough to stand up and begin to walk from the waters. The gills on your neck that only opened when you were under for any real length of time, now dissolved back into smooth skin as the dry air reached you.

Your dress clung to your wet body as well, far more sheer in the sunlight, and for a moment you wondered if Asgardian culture was more modest in the view of their own bodies or not. You couldn’t remember reading about that.

Hopefully he would not think it obscene. But as you made eye contact with him, you really could read nothing in his gaze. Only his body language looked impatient as he sat in the weak shade of a tree long gnarled by the ocean’s winds.

You bowed lightly in greeting as you stopped before him, even though you still held your spear upright in one hand. “Prince Loki of Asgard, I am pleased to see you again.”

You did notice that fleeting look through his eyes at that, as if he was once again trying to decide your sincerity.

“You think me a fool, don’t you?” Was what he finally said though. Not quite as cutting in tone as the other day however, but still very guarded.

You straightened at the accusation, though curious to his point.

But he continued before you could respond. “You are no minor goddess, (Y/N) of the sea,” He repeated, seeming to mock your wording from your last meeting. “I read more on your kind once I returned to Asgard. Care to introduce yourself with less deception this time?”

You smiled before you could help yourself. So you were the deceptive one? When the very first time you’d ever laid eyes on him, it had only been a false image. What a strange choice of words.

But had he really done the same thing you had then? Gone home and studied you? Was he annoyed that there would be any subject he knew so little about? You wanted to know if your own studying had been enough though, as this time you answered him in the language of the Asgardians, or what you hoped was at least close enough to be intelligible.

“I did not lie to you. I am the daughter of the sea. Because my father is the sea...Poseidon, king of the sea, and god of the oceans, earthquakes, storms, and horses.” Which yes, made you a princess you supposed, niece of Zeus, and sibling and cousin to so many others in the pantheon of gods and goddesses that was the Olympus royal family.

His eyebrows raised a little as his own language came off your tongue. But you could see it would still take far more for him to really show himself impressed even as a slight smirk did cross his face for the very first time. “Your intonation still needs much work, goddess. We can keep to Greek for now.”

True, beginning to learn a new language just through the written word was far different than actually hearing it spoken. “I haven’t had much time to study since you first came.” You smiled back. “I did try.”

“Clearly.” He answered, though still seeming to be just the slightest amused you thought.

“So is that the only reason you have returned? To chide me for not announcing myself a king’s daughter?” You asked, but trying not to sound as curious as you truly were.

He did pause a moment, but you were realizing that seldom did he find himself without quick words. “Partly I suppose.” He responded. “But you also said that I was now a guest here. Unless that hospitality has been revoked, I am choosing to take more time from Asgard in a place where I will not be bothered.”

So he still was mostly wanting solitude after all then? Though slightly disappointing, you knew it was something you could well understand. You wondered if his family could be as chaotic as your own. “This is a good place for it then. To not be bothered I mean. And yes, I stand by my offer of your being a guest here.”

After waiting this many days you really would have preferred to be in his presence more than a few moments. But it would be rude to impose yourself as well. “I will leave you to yourself then.” You spoke, already resigning your own self to likely the rest of the day alone as a shark or a dolphin. Well, maybe something that could dive even deeper. You now felt like going lay in a trench somewhere actually.

“Wait.”

The call back surprised you, even as it had sounded more like a command, pausing your rising disappointment as you glanced back over your shoulder.

“I had actually intended just to read today. But as you evidently have been reading at times as well, unlike so many others I know-” There seemed to be quite a bit of resentment to whomever he was referring to there, “I could be inclined to return to Asgard briefly and fetch some books from our library for you as well if you would like to read with me.”

You stared at the abrupt invitation. Did he really mean for you to sit with him, reading together then? So he was not entirely averse to your presence any longer?

Your silent stare only had him keep talking as if he thought he might need to further persuade you though. “I am sure you would get a far more accurate representation of Asgardian culture and history from our own authors, rather than whatever it was you had clumsily dug up here.”

The air of superiority had returned to his tone as he’d mentioned their writers of course, but he was likely right. If you wanted to read about Asgard, what better source than from the Asgardians themselves?

“I would appreciate that very much,” You said truthfully, albeit still with some surprise.

“Then it is done.” He said decisively, then standing to walk back to the forest.

“Loki,” you called before you could stop yourself though. You also realized it was the first time you had said his name this informally. You paused, unsure if this was something he generally allowed or not.

But when he looked back at you, you saw no anger in his eyes. He looked a little caught off guard himself, but only for the briefest moment.

“I...” You tried to not lose your nerve. “May I follow you? Not to Asgard of course,” You clarified quickly. There were far too many protocols that could be broken there, “But close enough to see the bifrost open? I’ve never seen it.”

He hesitated to consider your request. You supposed any good steward of their kingdom would. But even if you were trying some attempt at subterfuge and intended to force your way to Asgard, what threat could a single Olympian really pose? Especially only a water goddess at that.

He must have agreed you were no real threat either as he finally nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

And once you had reached that clearing again, this time you were close enough to see the symbols his last entrances had cut into the ground. Such a unique way to travel you thought.

But you were smart enough to still keep your distance as you did back back away as you saw him look to the sky.

“Heimdall!” He called. “Open the bifrost, I need to return!” He said in his own language.

For a moment nothing happened, but then the birds began to fly as the trees shook in the growing wind. You could just see the sky, a swirl of clouds beginning before a light as bright as any of Zeus’ lightning bolts erupted down with that boom you had heard before. Loki disappeared into the light, the wind whipping all around you before the bifrost vanished back into those clouds just as suddenly and there was silence again.

“Amazing,” you breathed, just to yourself and any still lingering animals that may have heard you.

—————————-

It felt like far longer than it really was you were sure. Your anticipation just stretching out the minutes as you’d waited for his return.

But when he did come back, in all the same dramatics as his exit with the bifrost opening, then closing to leave him there again in the clearing, he now had a satchel of several books.

You assumed Asgard may be a good deal cooler in temperature than your sandy beaches for as much of him that was covered in clothing. So you tried to help find the best shade that you could, and with an unblocked pass for the cool ocean breeze as you sat together beneath more trees.

“I’ve put a spell on these to make them waterproof,” He commented, “Though do still take care, some of these are from Father’s personal collection.”

“That’s practical,” You admitted, not at all offended, but awed really that he would bring such rare items for your viewing.

It was a bit of a slow go for you though, everything being written in the Asgardian language. But you were happy to find that you could understand enough with some effort, and that the gist of the stories and the histories being told were still coming across to you.

You weren’t sure how many hours the two of you sat that way. Every now and again you could see one of the sea nymphs peeking out from where the waves were breaking, keeping a curious eye on the two of you.

Eventually it was him that finally closed the last book he had been working through though. “I suppose I should return.” He said.

You were gentle with the book you still had, closing it as well as you handed it back to him. You felt as if you should say something more, but a simple, “Thank you,” was all that really came to mind in this moment.

He quieted though, looking out to the sun, now low over the darkening ocean. “It is not as fully terrible here in Midgard as I first assumed.”

You chuckled, how often would he make a habit of these insults? “I suppose any place can have its good qualities.”

But you badly wanted to ask him what had brought him here in the first place then. If he was to come to the mortal realm, wouldn’t it have made more sense to stay to the north where he was already legend? Why come here to the lands of the Olympians?

“You do have a way of staring through a person when you’re curious about something. You realize this don’t you?” He asked you in return though, just observing your features then.

You blinked, genuinely wondering if he possessed telepathy and you hadn’t known it.

“You’re looking at me in the same way as when you wanted to see the bifrost. So what do you wish to know of Asgard that could not be found in those books?”

You hesitated. He was still a god after all, and you knew how fickle they could be. You didn’t wish to anger him with your nosiness, but it would also be rude to ignore such a direct question.

“Well...I’m wondering why you came to our land to begin with. No Asgardians have set foot here in many ages from what I can discern. Why would you be so different?”

“You think me different?” He responded immediately though. Concerning you actually, before he scoffed, “Then you are intelligent. I am nothing like those I came here to seek relief from. My fool brother and his equally boorish companions.”

“Thor?” You asked innocently enough.

But the look he gave you as that name came off your lips would have been far answer enough before it became the key that opened the gates.

“He has been completely insufferable since Father bequeathed him Mjolnir!” You could see Loki’s jaw tightening slightly, the frustrated expression growing and so similar to that angered one you remembered on his illusion’s face that first day in the clearing, when it’d been pacing and cursing.

“Is that what happened recently?” You asked reflexively, but still believing that you already had the answer.

“Oh, he’s been using the hammer for years of course. Yet it always belonged to Asgard, not him. A relic of our realm. But now it is truly his per Father’s public declaration. Thor’s hammer,” He mocked, “Worthy to the one who will one day succeed Odin to take the throne. Father has now cast Thor as his official heir in our people’s eyes with this blunder.”

You remained quiet to digest the information he was providing you. So Loki felt slighted, no disgusted actually to learn the throne was seemingly all but promised to his brother now. So had he really already had that high of expectations for it?

“I guess Asgard and Olympus aren’t so different after all,” You finally mused, though trying to keep your tone even rather than sounding patronizing. “I mean, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. Our three kings, they overthrew their father Cronus and locked him in Tartarus to claim rule. Admittedly Cronus had eaten Hades, Poseidon, and their other siblings previously though.”

Loki stared at you and you just smiled oddly then. “My family has not always been on the best terms with each other either.”

“Your grandfather ate your father?” Loki asked as if to reaffirm the insanity he’d just heard. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“No, father has the scars still,” You admitted. “Cronus devoured his children as he didn’t want anyone to succeed him. But my grandmother Rhea, she hid Zeus away when he was born. And Zeus forced Cronus to regurgitate the others later.”

“Ugh,” Loki said, making a face.

You laughed, glad you seemed to at least get his mind off of Thor for the moment. “That all happened ages before I was born though. Luckily it’s now more frowned upon to treat your children in such a manner. Those were the old ways.”

“And you do have many siblings don’t you?” He questioned. “I read the Olympians were quite, how should I say, prolific in their child bearing.”

“Truth I’m afraid. Which is why I like to keep to the seas rather than Father’s palace or Mount Olympus. At least you only have one Thor, rather than a dozen.”

“Gods,” Loki spoke, the evident horror in that thought too much to contemplate seriously.

But you were just smiling again, realizing how much the ice had finally been broken to even be having this type of conversation right now. You were honestly enjoying the back and forth. It would be a shame to not do this again sometime.

And you had to try and convey that, at least somewhat if you could. You didn’t know how many other chances you would have. “Before you go...I did mean it, Loki, when I said you were welcome as a guest here. You can always come back when you need a little hideaway from whatever transpires to irk you in Asgard.”

He stared at you again then. It troubled you though of how little you seemed to be able read him at times. As if he could just cast a curtain between you whenever he wished.

“Perhaps I just may.” Loki said at last though with little emotion, then finally standing now and collecting his satchel of books.

It was only then that you really realized how dark it had already gotten with the sun now setting. And you caught yourself admiring him a little in the red and purple hues now coming from the sky. He really was so different than the gods you’d known before. Should you say something more?

As you stood as well, picking your spear back up from the sands, you saw several nymphs quickly sink back down into the surf, pretending as if they were not also very interested in how else you may say goodbye to him.

“You must not often entertain guests,” Loki spoke though, evidently having noticed your audience as well even as he began to walk away from you.

“Not men,” You answered honestly, though pausing as you realized how that really sounded. You continued though, not sure if you were making things sound worse or better. “Mostly we stay at sea. And I have no interest in unwashed sailors.”

But he stopped at that before entering the forest. He posed such a simple question to you then, although one that could mean so much more. “Yet you have interest in me?”

You felt as if you’d been hit in the chest at his words. Said quietly even as you saw his blue eyes on you once more, analyzing...waiting.

But how could one word have so many meanings? Interest as in he was just a curiosity, a strange foreigner to study like some new sea creature you had found? Or interest like a friend, to read together and talk and vent on the very particular family aspects you shared just as you’d done today?

Or...and this was surely the most disconcerting of all, interest as in how he could feel if you were allowed to touch him? How he would taste if you could kiss him? Your kind took lovers frequently. That should be no secret to him or anyone else. But just because other gods and goddesses of Olympus bedded one another left and right, it didn’t mean you did.

But did he you wondered? Did he have his choice of consorts at his palace, a full court always vying for his attentions to try and pull themselves further up the social ladder via way of his bed? Surely he would, wouldn’t he?

Yet your hesitation in answering was enough to indict you of your own desires you feared. Surely if he meant little, that would have been an easy response. To think on it this long, just made your confession for you didn’t it?

You took a breath, trying to remind yourself that you should fear no man. On a whim you could transform into a great shark and consume any prey, you could move the waters themselves, wreck ships, destroy harbors should you truly wish to. These were the gifts given to you from your father.

You were a goddess after all, not just an enamored young woman. And all you could do was speak the truth. “I do have interest in you, Loki.” You finally answered. “But to what path that will take is highly dependent on your own desires I’m sure. I know nothing of Asgardian preferences when it comes to choosing who to court, if at all.”

He had only been looking at you before, but now turned to fully face you. Unlike yourself, it seemed he had no problem in finding words though. “Your beauty is not something rare in Asgard, that is true.” He said, yet continuing before you could feel that as too harsh a barb, “But your mind, your ability, and even your desire to learn of what is outside your own world, that may be something wholly more compelling.”

Yet this didn’t sound like something that should be considered rare to you, or enough to set you apart at all you thought. And he seemed to read this disbelief clearly on your face as he then admonished you for it.

“You think I exaggerate? That even one of those vapid headed children could sit still for more than an hour without having to go break something or fight someone to prove their worth? Or that any other would sit here with me as you have done today and it not be just farce to try and get closer to my brother or to get in Odin’s favor?”

So you had been right on one thing at least. The Asgardian court did have its share of social climbers then. Maybe in this you could finally see some weight to his words. Because what did you care of such things? Your father was already a king. You did not need to seduce a prince to find anything in your life that you could not have by birthright already.

But if this was his way of admitting he at least approved of your company, it still didn’t clarify as to what all he really wanted from you.

“Well, I still leave the decision as yours. You know how to find me should you be willing to see me again. If you bring books, I will read with you. If you only want an ear to listen, I will do so. And if you desire for more...we can address that as we come to it.” You said, in what you hoped was a mature sounding way to deal with these burgeoning feelings.

“Very well.” He answered too simply though. And you were sure you saw some enjoyment in his eyes as your expression showed you were left a bit unsatisfied by that. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

And it was night by then, the fresh stars now fully surpassing the light from the fading sun. You stayed on the beach this time though, watching him disappear into the wooded hillside.

In not too much time, you then heard the boom that signaled the bifrost’s open and close and you knew that he was gone.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki imagine

[kanerallels]

May I request a Jyn and Cassian ficlet with the prompts 'princess carry' and 'pain'? *Grinning like a child asking Santa for a puppy for Christmas*

*grins back in evil author*

Pairing: Jyn Erso x Cassian Andor

Word Count: 2,525

Tags/Warnings: T rated (for too much angst for one precious boy. Kidding. It's for blood and angst)

Cassian had been working undercover missions for years now. He found them relatively easy-- slipping into another person’s skin, wearing their identity, acting like someone else. Some days, it was easier than being who he really was.

Things were different now, though. He’d usually been alone, before Jedha and the Death Star. Before he found his crew. Before Jyn.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he glanced at his companion. Jyn strolled at his side, occasionally moving away to examine a stall or two, and was dressed in simple but warm clothing. The two of them were masquerading as a couple shopping on Hays Minor as they made their way to where their contact was waiting. Although it wasn’t as if it was all part of the mission.

Cassian didn’t know for sure how Jyn felt about him. He knew they were close. He knew that he told her things that he was barely able to admit to himself, and that he was the only one she would ever break down in front of (with the possible exception of Chirrut. But everyone could be honest with Chirrut). But they’d never really talked about anything. Barely even done anything, other than one kiss a few months before. But it had been in the name of not blowing their cover, which barely counted.

The fact was, they were both so busy. Running, hiding, fighting the Empire, collecting intelligence against them-- all of it consumed their days. It was hard to find a restful moment, and those were usually spent on sleep.

Maybe we should talk, Cassian thought as Jyn paused at a stall, pretending to admire the wares. Eventually. If we ever get the time.

But now is definitely not the time. Pushing aside the thoughts, he moved to Jyn’s side and offered her his arm. “Ready for something warm to drink?” he asked.

Flashing a wide smile that Cassian knew was fake, Jyn looped her arm through his. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said.

They made their way down the street together. As soon as they were out of earshot of the stall, Cassian said in a low voice, “Fulcrum’s agent is just down that street. She should have the intel we’re looking for.”

Jyn nodded, her expression returning to its usual focus. “Let’s get this done. I really need some rest.”

“Didn’t sleep last night again?” Cassian asked, pausing by a stall of hand-woven textiles to let an Imperial patrol go by.

Picking up a scarf, Jyn pretended to admire it as she said, “As if you did.”

She had a point there.

“Nightmares?” Jyn guessed, and a small sigh escaped Cassian’s lips.

“Always. Scarif this time.”

“Mine were on Lah’mu.”

The planet she and her family had lived on for years, before Krennic had found them. Which meant it had been a bad one. Catching sight of a stall selling hot drinks, Cassian moved over to it and pulled out a few credits, handing them to the Nikto behind it. He received two disposable cups of some kind of caf in return, and presented one to Jyn. “Best cure for it I know,” he told her.

Jyn gave him a smile, one of her real ones that he saw so rarely-- and treasured when he did. “Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. Tucking her arm around his again, she asked, “Where to next?”

“This way,” Cassian told her, moving towards an alleyway. With any luck, it would come out just in front of their contact’s house.

And it did. They stepped out of the alley and into a neighborhood of shabby houses huddled next to each other like they, too, were trying to keep warm. At the third one in the row, a squad of stormtroopers were standing, the door had been knocked off of its hinges, and Cassian froze as he saw them dragging out a Twi’lek woman.

“Tell me that’s not our contact,” Jyn said, but her voice made it clear she knew what the truth was.

Four more stormtroopers came out of the house, each dragging a victim. The first was a Twi’lek man, who looked furious and scared like his wife. But the third was a little girl, and Cassian saw the female Twi’lek lurch towards her as she was shoved to the ground and a blaster was trained on her head. Oh, no.

That was all he had time to think before Jyn was pulling away from him, her cup of caf hitting the ground and splashing everywhere.

“Jyn, wait--” Cassian cut himself off with a low curse. Pulling his blaster with one hand, he pulled the emergency beacon out of his pocket with the other and thumbed it on. They were about to need all the help they could get.

Already several steps ahead of him, Jyn didn’t hesitate. Whipping out her blaster, she shot the two troopers holding the little girl. Thankfully, they were caught off guard, and didn’t expect her to shoot two more, both of the ones holding back the Twi’lek girl’s mother. And then they reacted, lifting their blasters and pointing at Jyn.But then Cassian was there, blaster rifle blazing as he took out four of the troopers, grabbed Jyn by the arm and tugged her out of harm’s way, behind one of the other houses. Pulling away from him, Jyn hissed, “We have to get them out of there.”

“I know. One thing at a time,” Cassian said, jerking back as a blaster bolt zipped past his face. “I called in back up--”

“We don’t have time to wait for them,” Jyn said.

“I figured you’d say that,” Cassian muttered. “Fine. I’ll cover you, you go for the girl. Ready?”

Jyn pulled out her baton, opening it with a flick of her wrist as she said, “Let’s go.”

Cassian moved out from behind the house in one smooth step, lifting his blaster and firing rapidly. In the same moment, Jyn dove out of cover and charged towards the Twi’lek girl. As she ran, Cassian heard a familiar humming-- the sound of their ship’s engine. Relief swept through him as the ship zipped into view and started to move downwards, the rear hatch opening. Two figures stood there-- one wearing blue and red robes and holding a lightbow, the other wearing red armor and holding a huge repeating blaster.

But even as they moved closer, one of the stormtroopers lifted their blaster, pointing it at the little girl. Before Cassian could move, he fired-- and a blur swept past Cassian, knocking the little girl out of the way.

For a moment, Cassian had no idea what had happened. All he could see was Jyn, standing over the little girl, a hand pressed against her abdomen, looking shocked. And then blood started seeping between her fingers, and Jyn crumpled to the ground next to the girl, and it hit him. She’d taken the shot meant for the Twi’lek girl. And then Cassian was running towards her, barely even noticing the blaster fire flying past him as Baze and Chirrut took out the troopers facing them.

He crashed to his knees next to Jyn, heart pounding. Please, no. Cassian found his hands were shaking as he wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her upright and into his arms.

Jyn’s torso was soaked in blood-- far too much blood. Her eyes were closed, and her face incredibly pale. “Come on,” Cassian muttered, yanking off his jacket and pressing it over the blaster wound. “Jyn, wake up. Wake up!”

To his relief, she stirred slightly. “Cassian?” she mumbled, and Cassian had never heard such a beautiful sound in his life.

“I’m here. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Cassian promised. “Hang on, Jyn.”

“The… the little girl.”

Looking up, Cassian saw Baze ushering the Twi’lek family onto the ship, with K2 and Chirrut watching his back. “She’s okay,” he promised. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? This is gonna hurt.”

Sliding one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her shoulders, Cassian lifted her up with a grunt. A small cry slipped from between Jyn’s lips, and her fingers knotted themselves in his shirt. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Cassian murmured, settling her against his chest so her head rested on his shoulder, trying to keep his voice steady. “Stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. Just a little longer.”

The only reply was a small moan as Cassian started towards the ship. Chirrut met him halfway, a frown knitting his forehead. “What happened to her?” he demanded.

“One of the troopers shot her in the gut,” Cassian said, and how his voice didn’t break he had no idea. “Tell Baze to get his medkit.”

“He’s already there,” Chirrut told him as they boarded. The hatch hissed shut behind them, and Cassian felt the ship taking off as Chirrut led him to one of the rooms in the back of the ship, where Baze was setting up his medical supplies.

“Put her down here,” he directed without looking up, his expression grim. “Chirrut, pass me the needle and thread. Andor, get out.”

Cassian looked up from settling Jyn on the bunk. “I can’t leave her--”

“Out. You’ll only be in the way.”

“She’ll be fine,” Chirrut promised as he propelled him out of the room. “Baze and I will take good care of her. Make sure our guests are alright.”

Before Cassian could protest, the door hissed shut behind him, leaving him standing in the hallway, blood covering his hands and the front of his shirt. Jyn’s blood.

Stumbling back, Cassian’s back slammed against the wall, and he sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands. All he could see, all he could think of, over and over again, was Jyn crumpling to the ground, her pale face and stillness as she lay there.

She could have died. She could have died right there, and Cassian wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about it. Worse, she could have died before they’d talked, before he told her how he felt. It had always been true, but now it felt… real. Raw with the possibility.

My fault. I should have stopped the trooper, should have stopped Jyn, shouldn’t have taken this kriffing mission, shouldn’t have taken on a crew in the first place. Thoughts tumbled over themselves in his head, and Cassian took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. The smell of blood filled his nose, and he thought he might be sick.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Chirrut’s voice penetrated his haze. “Captain. She will be fine.”“How would you know?” Cassian knew he was being harsh, but the panic, the shame bubbling up inside him, was too much to handle.

“She did not die on Scarif. And you will not lose her now,” Chirrut told him with utter certainty. “The Force wills it so.”

“If I lose her--” Cassian choked on his own words, on the smell of blood filling his nose and mouth. “I can’t. I haven’t-- I shouldn’t have--”

“Sit up, and breathe, Captain,” Chirrut ordered him, his voice abnormally stern. Reluctantly, Cassian did so, facing the blind monk.

“It’s not your fault,” Chirrut said, and Cassian’s chest tightened. “It isn’t. She doesn’t need you to blame yourself. Focus on your mission. One thing at a time.”

Nodding, Cassian inhaled deeply. “Okay. I’m going to go talk to our contact. Let me know the minute anything happens, you got it?”

Chirrut nodded. “I will. Oh-- don’t forget to wash your face.”

Cassian lifted a hand to his face, realizing that he’d smeared the blood on his hands across his forehead and cheeks. “Right,” he muttered, heading for the refresher.

The next few hours seemed to drag by in a stilted blur. Cassian talked to their contact, collected the data Fulcrum needed, and started working on setting up a new place for the small family to stay. He fielded questions about Jyn, mostly by sending whoever was asking-- usually Bodhi or the Twi’lek family, who were incredibly grateful-- to Chirrut. Part of him couldn’t look at their contacts without remembering how still Jyn had been, the far too dark bloodstain on her coat.

He had no idea how he made it through that time. But finally, finally, when he was in the galley getting his fifth cup of caf that night, Chirrut reappeared. “She’s awake,” he told Cassian.

Dropping his mug, Cassian bolted out of the galley and towards the room where Jyn had been. As he arrived, the door hissed open, and Baze stepped out. Giving Cassian a nod, he said, “She’s doing fine. Just needs some rest, and according to Chirrut, some of that horrible tea.”

“Thank you,” Cassian said, not bothering to hide the desperate, grateful edge in his voice, and Baze nodded.

“Anything for her.”

Without another word, the older man headed towards the galley, and Cassian ducked into the room.

Jyn was propped up on about ten different pillows-- Cassian had no idea where they’d come from. Probably either Chirrut or Bodhi. She looked at him as he came in. “We got them out, right?” she asked.

For a minute, Cassian had no idea what she was talking about. He was so glad to see her alive and well and still breathing. There were so many things he hadn’t said that he should have, and he’d almost lost the chance. “What?”

“The family,” Jyn prompted him. “We got them out?”

“Oh-- yeah. They’re all safe,” Cassian said, moving to her side.

Exhaling in relief, Jyn said, “Good. I didn’t want to get shot for nothing.”

“Hey. Don’t joke about that,” Cassian told her. “I thought-- for a minute there--” he faltered, the memory flickering past his eyes again.

Jyn’s hand catching hold of his knocked him out of the memory, and he looked at her with surprise. “I’m safe,” she said. “You’re safe. We’re both okay.”

Nodding, Cassian said, “I know. Just… don’t do that to me again. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Jyn said, her gaze holding his for a long moment before she let out a cavernous yawn. “Baze gave me some kind of sedative, I think,” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping.

“Then you’d better get some sleep,” Cassian told her, starting to move towards the door reluctantly. But Jyn tightened her grasp on his hand.

“Don’t leave?” she whispered, her voice suddenly surprisingly vulnerable. “I… I’m worried about the nightmares.”

There was a good chance part of her honesty was because of the sedatives in her system. But if he didn’t have to, there was no way Cassian would leave her side. “I’ll watch over you,” he promised, settling next to her bed. “You’ll be safe with me.”

A smile crossed Jyn’s face as her eyes drifted shut. “I know,” she murmured.

Cassian watched her for a moment, then on instinct, lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss against the knuckles. She was home and safe. That was what mattered for now.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow was a different story entirely.

#jyn erso #cassian andor #rebelcaptain #rogue one #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #bodhi rook #k 2so #111 followers celebration #rogue one fan fic #posted on ao3 #it was dope. the end

[chudleycanonficfest]

young dumb thrills

Day 26, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: young dumb thrills Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Gryffindor pals Prompt: Studying together Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Ron likes to swear, a lot. Also, the lads enjoy not speaking very nicely about the women in their year.

“Merlin, this potions essay is a pile of wank. I'm so fucking bored.”

Seamus snaps his book shut, his Irish lilt filling the dorm room and disturbing the peace. Until the rude intrusion, Ron had been attempting to write a Transfiguration essay on the benefits of Non-verbal spells, although he was struggling without Hermione’s usual help.

Four heads, belonging to the various bodies strewn around the place, lift from their books and parchment. The sixth-year Gryffindors throw frowns and obscenities at their friend.

“Well, it was your idea for us to do something together,” Dean comments, letting his head loll to the side to rest on his arms, his eyes closing.

“Yeah, but when I suggested it, I had a night of debauchery and booze on my mind. Not being shut up here on a Friday night.”

Ron laughs and abandons his parchment on the bedroom floor. He rolls off his tummy then wriggles into a sitting position, his back flush against his trunk. It allows him a better view of his dorm mates.

Seamus is sat up in his bed, resting against the headboard, his now shut Potions book by his feet. Dean sits in one of the window seats whilst Neville is perched next to his bedside table, crooning at his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Harry is in one of the cosy armchairs next to the fire, switching his obsessive gaze between the Marauder’s Map and the Half-Blood Prince’s Potions book.

“Debauchery?” Ron scoffs. “What kind of stuff did you think we’d be getting up to stuck in Gryffindor tower? You tried sneaking in the Firewhisky, but you were thick enough to let Filch catch you. McGonagall has got us on lockdown because of you, and we can’t even sneak out the window for a fly ‘cos it’s pissing down outside.”

Frowning, Seamus retorts, “At least I tried. Anyways, you and Potter don’t seem to have any difficulties getting yourselves into trouble, despite the rules and detentions and any other fucking thing the staff throw at you.”

Harry, who has been a silent observer up until now, finally pipes up, “You know, I’d gladly trade places with you, Seamus, if it means getting a quiet year without Voldemort trying to kill me.”

The other four boys shudder at Harry’s use of You-Know-Who’s real name. Once he has recovered, Seamus waves a dismissive hand before flopping down onto his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah. We all know that Voldie prefers to wait until the end of the year before trying to kill you. You could at least enjoy yourself up until then.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “How did it come to this, lads? We're all virile, good looking fellas. Well, apart from Nev. Yet, here we are on a Friday night, with only each other for company.”

“Oi!” Neville frowns, swivelling to face his friends with his hands on his hips. “At least I managed to get a date for the Yule Ball. Dean didn’t go with anyone.”

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend now.”

Dean’s cheeks darken as Ron’s eyes narrow. The redhead’s stomach churns. Sure, he’s adjusted to catching Dean snogging his sister in the common room now, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. He knows the type of stuff Dean gets up to, the sort of things he says behind closed doors. He’d rather Ginny didn’t get involved with a guy like Dean, but Ron knows it’s out of his control.

“Out of all of us,” Dean continues, “It’s only Weasley and me who have birds.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ron joins in, mostly to distract himself from his overprotective urges. Ginny is more than capable of looking after herself, and she’s told him enough fucking times, too. “And I could be downstairs with Lav right now, but you were so adamant that we were going to have a good night. Anyway, you can take the piss out of Neville all you want, but I bet you haven’t even snogged a girl, Seamus.”

The Irish Gryffindor’s eyes brighten with glee. “Yeah, I have. Your girl.”

Ron isn’t surprised at the emptiness he feels at the jibe. His feelings for Lavender fizzled out ages ago, and he’s been trying to finish things for weeks. The only problem is he can’t seem to say or do the right thing to scare her away. He should probably come out and say it, try this honesty thing Hermione is always harping about, but Ron likes his balls attached to his body. Plus, it’s kind of nice having a girlfriend and feeling like someone wants him.

Still, he has to keep up appearances. He reaches behind his trunk and fishes out one of his trainers from under his bed before hurling it at Seamus. The guy moves fast, rolling to the side to avoid being hit in the head as he bursts out laughing.

“And a good kisser she is too,” he adds.

“Who do you reckon is the best snogger out of the whole of Gryffindor?” Dean muses.

Ron mutters, “Aren’t you still dating my sister, Dean?” 

He knows his anger is irrational, Dean has done nothing wrong, but the images of the guy snogging Ginny then moving on to the next girl to compare them fills his brain, making him feel sick.

Seamus interrupts, still laughing. “For the guys? Then it’s me for sure. But I don’t know who’s the best out of the girls. I’ve snogged quite a lot of them. Some of them are amazing, and others are shit.”

“Fuck off have you,” Dean laughs too. “You’ve snogged Lavender, and that’s it.”

“Nah, I’m being honest with you. Weasley turned me down. It’s only her and Granger I haven’t snogged, truth be told.”

Ron sits bolt upright, all his fury at Dean forgotten as his heart pounds an irregular beat against his ribcage. However, he tries to arrange his face into a calm look. A few times, his secret crush on Hermione has almost been exposed, mostly via mutterings in his sleep. But so far, he’s managed to keep a firm lid on it, or so he believes.

“I don’t think Hermione has snogged anyone,” says Neville.

Dean shakes his head. “I’d put five knuts on her having snogged someone. She went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, after all.”

“Doesn’t mean she kissed him.” Seamus shrugs.

Harry pipes up again. “She did.” He blushes as all eyes settle on him. “Only a small one, though.”

The rest of the room erupts in fits of laughter, but Ron can’t hear it over the roar of his heart in his ears. He digs his fingernails into his leg, ignoring the flare of pain as they break the skin. So, Harry knows that Hermione snogged Vicky, too? How many people did Hermione tell? How the fuck could his best friend keep something like this from him? Why hasn’t anybody told him?

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron can see that Harry is staring at him, but he refuses to meet the git’s gaze. His blood boils around his veins.

“She must be a good kisser then if she managed to keep Krum interested. Not exactly a looker, is she?” says Seamus, in between giggles.

Ron whips his head around to glare at Harry. Despite instigating this latest uproar, the specky git does nothing to stick up for their best friend. Their dorm mates are tearing apart Hermione’s honour right now, but Harry already has his nose buried back in that fucking map, tracing Draco’s path through the school. Harry is bloody obsessed with the Slytherin prick. He probably fucking fancies him.

“You can barely even see she has boobs when she’s in her jumper,” Dean agrees.

“Yeah, and don’t get me started on her hair.”

Neville frowns. “Now, come on, guys. I think you’re being a bit mean. Hermione’s alright.”

“Oohhh, she’s alright, is she?” Seamus rounds on Neville now.

Dean joins in, wiping his eyes. “Aww, that’s nice. At least someone likes her.”

No longer in control of his reactions, Ron jumps to his feet, trembling hands clenched at his sides.

“Enough!” he roars, loud enough so that everyone has their attention pinned on him. “Leave her alone! What the fuck has she ever done to you?” He gestures around the dormitory, daring any of them to speak up. “Don’t get her involved in your bullshit talk.”

“Oh, so it’s alright for us to discuss snogging your girlfriend, but not Hermione Granger?” Seamus slides off his bed, squaring up to Ron. “You need to work out where your loyalties lie. If Lavender found out, she wouldn’t be pleased.”

Ron eyes his friend, trying to determine if he should punch him. After a moment’s deliberation, he decides it’s not worth it. Ron is a prefect and is supposed to be setting a good example. Plus, there’d probably be a fight, and he isn’t sure he has the energy for that tonight. Seamus has a good right hook, after all.

“Fuck off.” Ron pushes past Seamus and strides towards the door, yanking it open. He leaves the dormitory without looking back, pulling the door closed behind him so hard, he’s sure everyone in Hogsmeade can hear the resounding thunk. The dormitory bursts into another round of hysterical laughter, fuelling Ron’s rage.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he reaches the common room with a loud huff, only to meet a startled Hermione at the foot of the staircase. Ron’s face floods with heat as she eyes him up and down, a disparaging look on her face.

“Ron, wh—”

He doesn’t give her the chance to finish her question.

“Leave me alone.”

Stomping towards the portrait hole, Ron barks at the Fat Lady to open without saying please, before heading out. He picks a random direction, then walks.

Fuck the lot of them.

Fuck his friends for being dicks about Hermione and girls in general. No wonder Harry wanted to keep out of it all. And fuck that specky git for not jumping to Hermione’s defence. Fuck Hermione for choosing now to break her months of silence, only to piss him off even more. But most of all, fuck his fucking feelings for making him react so defensively about the fucking witch in the first place. 

He’s never going to live this down, for fuck’s sake.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #tw: swearing #tw: misogyny

[noforkingclue]

Hi your writing is the best!!! I have a Malcolm bright request where he is dating a high school teacher and she asks him if he could go to her class to show off his profiling skills and he really impresses them by knowing things about them that he shouldn’t and all the cases he’s done and like throughout the whole school day everyone is just talking about how cool he is and stuff. Also could you do it where he meets all of his girlfriends fellow teachers and stuff that would be awesome!!

Is it anon??? Thank you so much for saying that! Its means so much to hear that :D

Title: In the Classroom

Prodigal Son tag list: @takethee

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

“Alright,” you clapped your hands and smiled at your class, “I’ve got a treat for you guys today.”

You class groaned and you couldn’t help but rolled your eyes.

“What ‘treat’ do you have for us,” asked Sean, “You heard what Mrs Williams did for end of term right?”

You winced. Mrs Williams was best described as old fashioned and held certain views of what her students should be doing after graduation. You took your classes off and polished them as you looked at your class.

“I heard,” you said, “But because the end of your academic time here is coming to an end I thought that you guys could have some career advice.”

Your class groaned against and you sat on top of your desk as you waited for them to finish complaining.

“We already had the talk about why we should become teachers,” said Olivia, “Or scientists, or artists. We’ve had this talk before.”

“I think you’ll find this one slightly different.”

You hopped off your desk and walked towards the door and smiled at your class. They looked at you slightly suspiciously and you said,

“I want to introduce you to Malcolm Bright a profiler for the NYPD.”

As you opened the door you saw Malcolm standing there looking awkward. It was strange how he could face down horrific killers on an almost weekly basis but coming face to face with a group of teenagers terrified him. As you dragged him into the class your students looked at him curiously. Eventually Sean said,

“Is he your boyfriend?”

This caused the class to erupt with laughter and you to turn bright red. Malcolm’s eyes flicked between you and the class as he said,

“Like you and,” he pointed at Olivia, “Umm.”

“Olivia,” you whispered

“Olivia.” He said

This caused the class to fall silent immediately. Olivia looked at Sean in confusion while Sean’s eyes widened and he started spluttering.

“What?” he said, “No! Of course not!”

“We’re…we’re friends,” said Olivia her voice getting slightly higher, “It’s the twenty first century. People of opposite genders can be friends without dating.”

“Ah,” Malcolm gave the class a slightly sheepish smile, “I think I might’ve revealed something I shouldn’t have.”

“Anyway,” you quickly stepped in to save Malcolm, “As I said earlier-“

“No,” Olivia stood up and pointed a finger at Malcolm, “What did you say?”

“I really don’t think-“ Malcolm started

“Tell me.”

“Olivia,” you warned, “Don’t speak to Malcolm like this. He didn’t have to do this you know and I’m sure that he’d rather be solving a murder case then be speaking to all of you.”

“A murder case?” this got Jack who was slumping in his seat to sit up, “You solve murders?”

“I help,” said Malcolm, “Offer advice, profile killers. It’s not that interesting.”

“So profile me,” said Olivia, “Please.” She added after you gave her a stern look

Malcolm looked at you and you shrugged. You were expecting him just to talk about his work, maybe something about the FBI if he wanted. You weren’t expecting your class to be that interested or to want him to profile them.

“Well,” Malcolm said, “It’s obvious that you like,” he pointed at Sean, “Him.”

“Sean.” You whispered

“Thanks.” Malcolm said back

“No I don’t!” said Olivia quickly

“How can you tell?” asked Jackson as the room filled with excited whispered and Sean sunk deeper into his seat

“Well,” Malcolm said slowly as he gave you an amused smiled, “You, Olivia, had a chocolate wrapper by your desk.”

“So,” said Olivia, “Miss l/n allows us to eat in class.”

“And Sean,” Malcolm darted forward and grabbed Sean’s bag, “Has the same bar in his bag.”

He reached in and grabbed several bars out of the bag. Malcolm raised an eyebrow as Sean covered his face with his hand.

“And how do you know that he doesn’t just like the same chocolate I do?” asked Olivia, her red gradually getting redder.

“Y/n mentioned that he’s a vegan,” said Malcolm, “Sorry, cheated there!”

“This is priceless,” laughed Jack, “Anyone else got a crush one someone. Come on man, you can tell us.”

“Well, I think your crush on y/n is very obvious. Although I can confirm it is unrequited.”

Jack, who was leaning back on his chair, almost fell over. The entire class burst out laughing and you clapped your hands to get their attention. Luckily for you the bell started ringing and the class looked at you pleadingly.

“Can he stay?”

“Please Miss.”

“He can tell us more about his job!”

“Afraid not,” you said, “You know the rules guys. If you have any more questions I’ll be happy to ask Malcolm later but right now you guys need to go to your next class.”

 *

 “So this is the famous Malcolm we’ve been hearing so much about.”

You and Malcolm, who were currently sitting on a wall outside the school, looked up at the person. Richard Smith, a colleague of yours, sat down next to you as he lit a cigarette. Malcolm looked slightly worried and you didn’t need to be an expert profiler to know that he was worried someone had found out who he really was.

“Famous,” you said, “Malc isn’t-“

“He’s all everyone is talking about,” said Richard as he waved the cigarette at you, “I just came out to see what the fuss was about. Do you know how irritating it is to have your class interrupted by teenagers saying how ‘cool’ and ‘hot’ he is?”

“Well he is.” You said as you rested your head against Malcolm’s shoulder. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled when you felt him squeeze it back.

“Well my curiosity has been satisfied,” said Richard, “I’ll be seeing you later y/n.”

“Huh?”

“Teachers meeting,” he said, “Don’t forget.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t.”

As Richard walked away you glared at his back. When he was out of earshot you looked at Malcolm in embarrassment.

“Sorry about him,” you said, “He’s always been a bit… well, you’ve just seen.”

Malcolm was sitting bolt upright and looking straight ahead.

“Sorry,” he said once he realised that you had spoken, “Got to go.”

“Huh?”

Malcolm jumped to his feet and pressed a brief kiss against your lips.

“Development in the case.” He said

“How-“

“Cufflinks!” he yelled as he ran away

You sighed happily and took a sip of you rapidly cooling coffee. You weren’t sure how your class would react to Malcolm and you were more than happy that they like him and were interested in his work. The fact that they thought he was cool was just an added bonus!

#fanfiction #prodigal son #reader insert #request #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #malcolm x reader #malcolm bright x reader

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, long time followers will probably remember having read this, but I can’t find the original post and I’m trying to like.....force-reboot/jumpstart me working on my ‘Kings of the Sky’ AU again because I haven’t touched it in awhile and I have like literally eight different installments in various stages of completion and that’s ridiculous even for me. So here’s a repost of the first part of “Teachable Moments” the canon-divergence point of that AU series, where Jason calls Dick for advice after the Garzonas case and everything changes from there.

******

The way Jason Todd warily eyed the device in his hand, one might think it was an instrument of great and terrible destructive power, rather than just…his own personal cell-phone.

To be fair, he was Robin, and pretty used to the idea that even the most unlikely of things could be used for evil in Gotham. It could’ve been stolen and replaced at some point by a henchperson of Mr. Freeze, and using it could unleash some kind of cryogenic freeze ray that would turn him into a Robinsicle. Mad Hatter could be up to shit again, and dialing the phone at this very minute might mean syncing it up with a remote radio signal that would override his natural brainwaves and turn him into Tetch’s mindless minion of like…doom and stuff. Or…or…

Or sometimes, even in Gotham a phone is just a phone, and Freud is still a dumbass. And neither of the above possibilities had anything to do with why Jason was being a giant freaking pansy about entering the last digit of the phone number he would never ever admit to having had memorized for months now.

Nightwing had said to call if he ever needed to talk. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t actually want Jason to call, right? Like, its not as if Jason had remotely been expecting him to do that, so its not the sort of thing someone did just because it was ‘expected’ or shit. He was pretty sure. Rich people manners were weird though. Had to factor that in.

But Nightwing had also even made a point to say not talking to people about stuff was Bruce’s problem and that Jason shouldn’t let it be his problem too, and even though months ago Jason had been a starry-eyed dumbass who was totally drunk on the Bruce is the Bestest Kool-Aid or whatever, ‘Wing had definitely known what he was talking about there. So maybe he’d get it, and having this conversation with him wouldn’t be. Like. The actual worst idea in the history of ever.

Deductive logic said that Jason was getting worked up over nothing and there was no rational reason for him to be this nervous about dialing a fucking phone number. And he’d gotten pretty good at the whole deduction shit, given all the work he and Bruce had put into training his mind to view the world through entirely new paradigms, so Jason was pretty sure his math on that checked out. But on the other hand, Bruce was a hypocritical asshat that Jason was currently not speaking to, so what the fuck did he know about anything?

Aaaaand he was back to square one. Well damn. This was excellent. Very productive. Good hustle out there, Jay.

Sighing gustily, Jason flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten used to how luxurious and cushion-y his ridiculously expensive mattress was. He’d gotten soft, he told himself. Then he scoffed at the idea that the past year and a half of rigorous Robin training and patrols had made him less tough than the pipsqueak he’d been back when living on the street, getting his ass kicked by bigger and badder on the regular. That hadn’t been hardness, that had been bravado.

But it had gotten him this far in life, so maybe there was something to be said for it after all?

Ugh. Decisions were hard. He objected on principle. He also really wanted to understand why he was this nervous…if he could literally fill the guy’s shoes and kick supervillain ass as Robin, what freaking sense did it make that he couldn’t even call him up on the phone?

Maybe you just know better than to ask him questions you don’t really want to hear his answer to, a smug voice said in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like Willis Todd, which was all kinds of weird and fucked up, cuz Jason was damn sure his abusive a-hole of a deadbeat dad had never said anything that insightful in his life.

Which meant it was his own screwed up subconscious - presenting in the voice of his not so dearly departed douchebag dad, no less - that had Jason reacting out of spite, entering the last number and hitting Talk, all while totally on autopilot. Because apparently we’re all making healthy life choices in this Chili’s tonight, Jason snickered somewhat hysterically while his phone rang once, twice, three times.

Ugh. Was he always this fucked up in the head and he just never noticed, or was it a side effect of running around rooftops in a cape. Inquiring minds wanted to know.

“Hello?” Someone said then, answering on the fourth ring. Jason sat bolt upright, his nervous humor vanishing as quickly and unexpectedly as it’d hijacked him in the first place. For all that he’d only actually interacted with the older man a few times, his voice was instantly recognizable. As was his slight confusion.

Right. Because why would Nightwing have the untraceable number of the latest burner phone Bruce had given Jason, when the ever paranoid Bat had him swapping out phones every freaking week? Duh, Jay.

“Uh, its me,” Jason said hastily, as if he could somehow catch up to and overtake the epically long ten second silence he let lapse before his mouth started making words again. “Jason?”

“Jaybird! Hey! What’s going on?” The older vigilante’s tone instantly morphed into one of surprised delight, so apparent even across the phone that Jason actually pulled it away from his ear and stared at it, as if that could explain Nightwing’s inexplicable giddiness. He’d literally only met the dude three times. Give or take a concussion he was forgetting about maybe? Weird.

Then again, the older man was a circus performer from birth. Might just be good at faking being super excited to hear from people? Whatever. Still weird.

“Uh, you said to call if I was ever having, I dunno, issues with Bruce I guess? So I kinda had a question? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.”

Just one question? Willis’ voice asked snidely, echoing in time with the rapid tripartite beat of Jason’s heart. Since apparently everything Jason said was trying to come out with a question mark attached to the end of it at the moment. Ugh, fuck you, subconscious, Jason thought forcefully, even as he ransacked the recesses of his mind for that bravado he was thinking about earlier. It had to be in here somewhere…

“No worries dude, I’ve got time. Hit me!” Nightwing said cheerfully. His lighthearted cadences were so at odds with the sweat suddenly breaking out on Jason’s forehead, the younger teen couldn’t help but wince in anticipation of its inevitable change once he got his actual question out. This was a bad idea, he decided, way too fucking late for it to make a difference. He had a hunch Nightwing wouldn’t be content to ‘just forget it’ or whatever even if Jason chickened out now.

So he took a deep breath, shrugged and did what Jason Todd did best. Said fuck it, put pedal to the metal, and drove at full speed for the metaphorical police barricade that was his way of picturing all the things telling him He Should Definitely Just Not.

“Do you think I’m someone who could kill somebody in like, cold blood?”

Aaaaand there went the lightheartedness. Well, he’d definitely stone cold killed that, Jason thought grimly into the silence that followed.

“Huh,” Nightwing said at last. “You’re gonna have to give me a second to switch gears here, Jay. I was kinda expecting something along the lines of ‘how do I avoid Bruce giving me the safe sex talk.’”

Jason flushed and nodded jerkily, not that the older man could see it. Still, it’d been enough of a workout just getting to this point. He didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next if he kept trying to force it. Thankfully Nightwing didn’t make him wait too long before continuing.

“I think anyone’s capable of killing somebody in the right circumstances,” Jason’s predecessor began carefully. Except that was not remotely what he wanted to hear. Or helpful.

“I’m not looking for platitudes,” Jason grit out, not angry at the other vigilante so much as the whole fucked up mess and his inability to think about anything else at this point. “It’s just a simple fucking question. You’ve met me, do you think like, I’d be capable of just killing somebody or not.”

“I’m not offering platitudes,” Nightwing continued calmly, as if he wasn’t phased by the younger boy’s interruption or sudden aggression at all. “And its not a simple question at all. Speaking from experience, most people wouldn’t think of an eight year old as a cold-blooded killer, but that’s what I could have been if Bruce hadn’t stopped me from killing my parents’ murderer when I first tracked him down. And yet that’s still totally different from when I held a gun on Two-Face barely a couple years later, about to shoot him because somebody else told me to, and because I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. Wouldn’t you agree those are two different situations and two different ‘kinds’ of cold-blooded killer? Context is kinda a big deal here.”

Huh. First off…what the fuck? Jason stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to hurry up the processing functions of his brain because, again, what the fuck? He was like ninety nine percent positive none of that had been in the Dick Grayson Is The Greatest and Here Are All The Reasons Why brochure he’d had read to him every time someone new found out he was Wayne’s newest stray, and like. Uh. Yeah, that part would have definitely stood out. Because once more, with feeling:

“What the fuck?”

Oops. That hadn’t been supposed to be out loud. Bad mouth. Bad.

Nightwing just did a weird kinda half laugh half sigh combo. Rueful, Jason would describe it, if he were describing it to someone else, which it kind of felt like he was, relaying the conversation to himself now that it’d taken a hard right turn into the surreal.

“Blindsided you with that, huh? Sorry, should’ve figured neither of those are the kinda stories Bruce would want to share with you. Then again, I don’t really have any idea what Bruce has told you about me.”

“Not much,” Jason admitted. Which was a major source of irritation, if he was being honest. The much sung praises of Dick Grayson came from literally everyone he met except for Bruce. Who usually just got a pinched expression whenever Jason brought him up, and a rapid subject change that was not nearly as subtle as Bruce seemed to think it was.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Nightwing sighed. “I hope you haven’t put too much stock in anything else you’ve heard about me then. I’ll admit to a bad habit of enjoying my mystique, so secondhand hearsay tends to lose my best nuances.”

Despite himself, Jason’s lips curved up and he let out a rueful huff of his own. “I mean, this definitely isn’t where I saw this conversation going.”

The older man chuckled. “Thought I was going to just assume the worst and chuck the book at you?”

“Well. Yeah.” Jason shrugged, even though he knew it wouldn’t come across. “Bruce did.”

Nightwing heaved an exasperated breath. “Yeah, that’s kinda the thing about B. Sometimes, he’s great. Other times, he’s an ass. Its kinda an either or thing. He’s never really mastered the art of finding a midpoint between two extremes. Mostly because he’s never seen the point of aiming for middle ground.”

“Well its not like he’s ever really had to,” Jason griped. It just slipped out before he could stop it, leaving him feeling guilty for bad-mouthing B when he wasn’t around to defend himself. Especially since he knew Nightwing wasn’t the guy’s biggest fan these days. But he couldn’t deny it also felt good, in a way.

To his surprise, Nightwing just laughed. And not even in a malicious, spiteful kind of way, but almost relieved.

“God, thank you. You’d think that ‘hey, so my billionaire guardian kinda has entitlement issues’ would be a water is wet kind of revelation, but try saying something like that to pretty much anyone else…”

“And they look at you like you’re an ungrateful asshole?” Jason finished for him. Not that he’d ever actually tried saying that to anyone before, though he’d definitely thought it a time or two. But he could all too easily imagine the reactions he’d get, which was pretty much why he’d never gone so far as to speak the words.

“Yup,” Nightwing drawled, dragging out the p and popping it with emphasis. “And its not about being grateful or not, its just…there are some parts of everyone that just aren’t up for grabs, for other people to weigh in on or take charge of, you know? And a lot of people just don’t get that…because nobody’s ever tried it with them, or had to deal with expectations that…overstep, let’s call it?”

“Is that why you left?”

Jason winced the second it left his mouth. Too far. Definitely way too far, but he’d just gotten unexpectedly comfortable with the back and forth, and now he’d done the overstepping thing himself and was left with just dead air.

But ten seconds of heavy silence stretched into twenty, and went no further, as Nightwing sighed into his side of the phone again.

“The spiteful part of me wants to say it was more of a push than me just up and leaving,” he laughed again, but this time with unmistakable bitterness. “But even while that’s true, its not really the right answer to your question, because no matter how much of a clusterfuck that was at the time, its not…I mean, I knew at the time how to fix it. Where and how I needed to cave in order to make up with him and let things get back not quite to normal, but at least close enough.”

The pause wasn’t as heavy or tense this time, as Jason could almost sense the older man gathering his thoughts, trying to put them into words. He bit his lip rather than risk any more unexpected utterances escaping. This might not have been where he’d thought his phone call would lead, but now that he was here, hearing the answers to questions he’d wanted to ask for over a year and finding them almost comfortably familiar, he wasn’t going to risk distracting Nightwing or shutting him up for well. Anything.

“But it would have meant me caving. Settling in ways that I just…couldn’t. So in a way, yeah, I did leave, it was still my choice. And all of that was definitely a big part of it. I love Bruce, I do. I just couldn’t live with him anymore. Not without feeling like I had to give up my own autonomy and just be what he wanted. Or what he’d expected me to grow up to be, back when he first took me in. And as grateful as I am to him for that, I can’t honestly say I would have stuck around back then if I knew that was the price tag attached. I’m not…I don’t do well with people trying to force me to stick to one place, one thing. I was born on the road, you know? When I was a kid, I expected to spend the rest of my life living like that. Home was people. Not places. And so Gotham…its never fit me quite right, the way it does him, or even Barbara. Its not like I was miserable there, its just.”

“It wouldn’t have been your first choice,” Jason finished again, quietly. There was silence again for awhile.

“No. No, it wouldn’t have been. Not then.”

[mandoalorian]

Hey i heard that you are in our blonde man mood, so what about Maxwell and reader having a car accident. Angst hurts but you wrote that amazing.

Those Three Words [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: This was tough. I knew it was going to be tough the moment I received the request but oof— I don’t know if it hit differently because Maxwell is my comfort character or… I just. Thank you for the prompt though, and the lovely compliment. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: car crash, injury, blood mention, hospitals, coma mention, mention of stalking, angst.

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: 13+

MASTERLIST

READ PART TWO HERE

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal (let me know if you want to be added!)

You knew it would never be easy. Dating Maxwell Lord was never going to be a walk in the park. He had his moments, dazzling you with his smile and making your heart melt just from the simplest of touches. You forever cherished the moments on a morning where he'd hold you tight in his arms, your body pressed against his chest. He'd plant lazy kisses along your jaw and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The strain on the relationship came from his fame. He had warned you before you had both decided to become official. He'd warn you that the paparazzi would go wild once they found out you two were dating. He knew he had obsessive fans who would try doing anything in their means to split you both up. It was hard, but you and Maxwell were more than confident that your love for one another would transcend any difficulty.

That morning was your worst fight yet. "We are going to be late for the meeting," Maxwell growled. "Will you just get your shit together and get in the fucking car?" You had never seen him so angry before. You'd seen him shout at his employees, treat them like dirt, but this was different. His voice was low and gruff and dripped with hostility. It scared you, just a bit. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and took a deep breath.

"Don't talk to me like that," you snarled back and his head snapped in your direction when he heard your tone of voice. "You need to do something Max. This is getting too much." you were practically begging.

"I can't- I- what can I do? Tell me, what can I do?" he asked, throwing his arms up in the air, completely exasperated. It was only the morning but his dark blonde locks were already falling out of place and he had loosened his tie. The work day hadn't even begun.

"I don't know!" you cried. "But you have to do something."  you gulped. "You have to. Max please-" you sobbed, falling into his chest. You wanted him to hold you, and shush you, and promise you that he would handle it. That everything would be okay.

He rarely said I love you. You didn't mind so much, because he had his own way of showing it. They were just words and— actions spoke louder than words. But just this once you wished he would say it. You wished he would say those three damned words. He felt your tears dampen his shirt and he gently pushed you off him. He took the magazine out of your hand and sighed before throwing it in the trash.

He wanted to burn the magazine. The dumb tabloid journalists who had taken photos of you when you hadn't even realised. Stalked you. It disgusted him, it angered him.

You shakily folded your arms over your chest and looked at him with glazed eyes. He looked pained too, you could just about tell. The slight uncomfort in his posture. Although Maxwell Lord rarely spoke about his feelings and he did a hell of a good job at hiding them. You had known him long enough to just about identify when he wasn't doing okay. You swallowed the hard, anxious lump in your throat.

"Come on." he said quietly, but he didn't even move, and neither did you.

"Max," you whispered sadly, feeling another tear fall down your cheek.

"Don't," he croaked, pursing his lips together. He turned around and opened the front door, waiting for you to walk out of the house and get into the car that was waiting for you so he could lock up. "Jeeves is waiting. Go." 

You sniffed, taking a deep breath and quickly checking your reflection on the way out you did your best to fix your appearance. No doubt the paparazzi would be trying to snap photos of you and your boyfriend. You and Maxwell both slid into the back of the car. Neither of you spoke a word during the first half of the journey.

"You're acting like this is my fault." Maxwell said stiffly, not even bothering to turn to you.

"Is it not?" you asked but regretted the words as soon as they departed your lips. It was unfair to blame him. He had warned you. He had.

Maxwell looked down with guilt and shame bubbling within him. "If you're not happy-"

"Stop it." you snapped.

"Because you don't seem happy." Maxwell continued.

"Stop!" you cried out, startling even the driver.

"Max, you can afford security. Or lawyers. You can afford to sue the papers or even pay paparazzi off. Fuck, I don't know how this shit works. I don't know but those people are crazy. They terrify me." you admitted. "I'm begging Max."

"I should have this business deal closed by the end of the week. Then I can-"

"Oh my God, fuck the business deal! Max, this is our relationship, this-" you stopped, your eyes fixating on the rear view mirror. "Jeeves… how long has that car been behind us?" you asked hesitantly, your fingers curling into an anxious fist.

"I'm not sure ma'am, would you like me to take a diversion?" Jeeves, the driver, questioned politely.

"No," Maxwell replied before you even had time to open your mouth. You scowled. "I'm already late for work. Don't need to be any later."

"Max," your voice was timid. Shy. Afraid. "I really think that car has been following us."

"You're paranoid." Maxwell rolled his eyes.

"No, Max I-"

"You're paranoid because of everything that's happened this morning. Because of the magazine-"

It was when Jeeves turned at the next junction, the car behind you crashed into yours. You heard the windows shatter and Maxwell scream your name, but then. Blackness. Darkness. Nothing.

***

Fuck, Maxwell knew he had fucked up. You didn't even want to leave the house this morning— he knew that. He knew you'd rather just lay with him, in bed, subdued in the morning sunlight. He knew it and yet he still selfishly chose to ignore it. He had to go to work; he had to close the business deal. Once again he had made the mistake of prioritising his damn job over you. Over your wishes. Over your relationship.

You grazed his thumb over the cut in his eyebrow as his feet tapped impatiently. The hard blue chair he was sat in grew more uncomfortable by the minute as he waited for the doctors to finish your check up. Jeeves was okay, the airbag hidden in the steering wheel saved his life. He'd gone home for the rest of the day. Maxwell suffered a few cuts and bruises from the broken glass and his face slamming into the seat in front him. He thought he had broken his nose but the x-rays showed that he was fine. A few stitches and he'd be healed within weeks.

But you… 

Maxwell groaned, rubbing his head and slowly opening his eyes. His own seat belt had snapped and he cursed at the way his head was pounding. He could already hear sirens. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious for, but it mustn't have been too long. He shuffled upright into his seat, peaking over only to find that Jeeves was gone. He wasn't in the car. Then, he turned to face you.

You were curled up in your seat, your eyes shut. For a split second, Maxwell felt nothing. He looked at you and admired your beauty. Your softness and your angel-like features. You were as still as ever. Your hair was tangled in your seatbelt, your cheek pressed against the leather of the seat. Maxwell leaned over and cupped the side of your face, gently tilting it to one side. It wasn't until his action revealed a pool of blood dripping from a deep cut in your neck, he began to panic.

Panic was an understatement. His heart dropped. It broke within an instant. He looked closer, examining the cut and trying to make out how serious it was but there was too much blood. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't do anything. He was helpless. The sirens began to get louder but it was like everything was happening in slow motion.

"Baby," he whimpered, tapping you lightly. "Baby." he repeated, this time his voice louder and more stern. He dropped his hands to your shoulders, picking up your lifeless body and cradling you in his arms. Your arm flopped across his legs and your eyes remained closed, despite his pressure to awaken you. "Hey," he whimpered, tears spilling from his eyes. "Hey stay with me. Stay with me."

He cried your name. He sobbed hysterically. He placed his hand under your shirt and over your chest, desperate to feel your heartbeat. Your skin was still warm and a flood of relief washed over him, but you still weren't responding. Maxwell pressed his lips against your forehead, his salty tears dripping onto your face. "Please." he croaked. "Don't leave me. You can't. You can't-"

The doctor interrupted Maxwell from his thoughts. "Mr Lord," he said. Maxwell felt sick. He was preparing himself for the worst. What if this was it. What if you were gone. He'd lost the love of his life, just like that. It would be all his fault. He could never forgive himself. "She's stable, but unconscious. We think she might be in a coma which is concerning but we've booked her in for an MRI scan this afternoon. We'll have to take it from there."

"Can I go see her?" Maxwell asked. The doctor barely had to nod before Maxwell bolted past him and into your room.

You were laying in bed, tied to an abundance of machines by wires and tubes. Maxwell's heart sank. He slowly approached you, and sat on the edge of your bed. Hesitantly, he held your hand. He wasn't sure if he deserved to even touch you. He couldn't help but blame himself. If he had just listened to you...

He hissed when he felt how cold you were. Your hands were like blocks of ice. He gently smoothed your hair out of your face and cupped his hands on your cheeks, desperate to bring you some kind of warmth.

The worst part about it, he had been fighting with you all morning. He didn't even get the chance to tell you how much he loved you. He loved you so much.

"Darling," he sobbed, shuffling out of his suit jacket and wrapping it over your body. "I don't know if you can hear me. I heard- I heard on the television that sometimes, a person in a coma can hear you if you talk clear enough, I- I hope you can hear me." he choked out.

He prayed for you to make some kind of movement. Show him some kind of sign. But nothing.

"Listen darling, you're strong. Strongest person I know. I need you to wake up for me because I love you so much and I need to prove to you that I can fix this. I can handle it. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry I let this happen." Maxwell conceded, trying to compose himself. "I can't live without you. I need you. I love you."

It was the three words you had longed to hear this morning. Those three words.

I love you.

You stirred, only slightly, but it was enough for Maxwell to notice. "Nurse!" he screamed. "I need a nurse!" your eyes were still closed but he felt you give him a small, reassuring squeeze of his hand. It was weak, it was tired, but it was you. Tears began to spill from Maxwell's eyes. "Yes, yes baby," he cried. "I know you're there. I know you can feel me. Listen, I love you okay? I love you. You're going to get through this." he encouraged, pressing a kiss into your lips.

It was a doctor who pulled Maxwell away from you. Nurses scrambled around you, checking your vitals and the machines as Maxwell stood there and watched. "Be gentle with her." he whimpered, but earned no response.

He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't lose you. He loved you.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader

[theloneliestshipper]

What about a Soulmate or red string of fate AU for Leia and Boba?

I actually had multiple requests for this one. I came up with a premise years ago for this and yet writing it out only made me realize how hard it would be to get these two stubborn, independent people to buy into it. I dragged them as far as I could, I swear. 

AO3 Link

“It’s Mandalorian.” Her father’s voice was hushed. He sounded worried. “I recognize the lettering.”

“Could we have it translated?”

Leia rubbed her leg just above her knee as she listened to her parents whispering outside her door. The darker patch of skin had always been there. Her mother said she always had. It was only after her tenth birthday that the color began to deepen and the foreign letters began to take shape.

“Yes, but should we?” Her father continued. “This whole business of soulmates, it’s a lot of pressure. Maybe it’s best if she doesn’t know.”

Her mother sounded uncertain. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know, Bail. What if this is one thing too many?”

---

“You have a soulmark?” Sabine Wren’s eyes went wide.

“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“My parents have them...so, no. My dad’s says, “I’m looking” and my mom’s says, “look at this beautiful sight!” My dad was painting a picture of a lake when they met, and he wanted her to look at the view and she wanted to look at him.” Sabine shrugged. “And those were the first words they said to one another. My mom says she was just grateful that hers was in Mando’a.”

Leia fidgeted, keeping an eye out for anyone passing in the hall of the rebel base. “Mine is in Mando’a too.”

“It is? That means it’s your soulmate’s first language!”

“I looked it up, but the translation wasn’t exact. It’s just one word. Slana’pir.”

“Huh.” Sabine considered that for a few seconds. “That can mean ‘get lost’ or ‘go away’ depending on the context. It’s kind of a funny thing for someone to say as their first words to you. The first letter, does it angle at the bottom? This way?” She illustrated with her hand.

Leia had to think about it. “No. The other way.”

“That’s interesting. It means they’re probably Concordian, from Concordia or Concord Dawn.” She grinned. “A hick Mandalorian, you know? In some places they use slana’pir literally, from a Concordian it’s more likely to be a threat.”

“Great,” Leia replied dryly. “I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for a Mandalorian who instantly threatens me. Are your parents...it’s real for them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re really happy together. My dad always says he doesn’t mind dying at the same time as my mom, because he can’t imagine living without her.”

“Wait. You die if your soulmate does?”

“That’s part of the deal. Once you meet and exchange words, you literally can’t live without one another.”

“But what if it’s someone you pass on the street and never speak to?”

“Then I guess you do what you want like everyone else.”

---

Leia couldn’t understand the grunts of the Gamorrean guards who dragged her through the door. They tossed her in the direction of the bed and left, locking the door behind them. The room was simple, the only furniture was a bed.

Jabba had made the terms of her captivity clear with the scraps of metal and cloth she was forced to wear. She was a trophy for the Hutt to display. So why lock her in here?

She paced for a while. When she got tired of pacing she sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door. That quickly became boring and so she laid down, curled up on her side. At some point she fell asleep.

When she woke up there were voices outside the door. Bib Fortuna, the Twi’lek majordomo, and a second voice.

Boba Fett.

Leia bolted upright. Of course. Jabba was passing her on as a bonus to his pet hunter. Her hands curled into fists as the door opened and the Mandalorian bounty hunter strode in.

“Get out.”

She resisted the urge to cover her soulmark with her hand. “Congratulations,” she snarled instead. “You can read.”

He didn’t respond. He stood frozen in front of the door until it finally occurred to Leia that something had happened. “The fuck,” he whispered, the words barely audible through his helmet. Suddenly he was moving towards her, and before she could scramble away he was on his knees at her feet, his hand on her leg. His gloved fingers scrubbed across her soulmark as if he was trying to rub it off.

“Ow!” She pulled her leg up under her, shoving him away. “Get off me!”

He straightened, started to walk away and then turned back. And then away again, as if he had lost all sense of direction. “It can’t be,” he said to no one.

“Are you on spice?”

He laughed, a harsh, unexpected sound that caused a burst of static in his helmet. “I wish this were a spice dream, but neither of us is going to get that lucky.” He lifted off his helmet, setting it on a table before he removed his jetpack. He was in his thirties, with dark curly hair and tan skin. A handsome man, in spite of his grim expression. He looked as if he wanted to be doing anything other than what he was doing.

He stripped off his bracers and then worked open the flak vest his chest plates attached to. When he started opening the neck of his flight suit Leia realized that he was undressing.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “Lay a hand on me and one of us is going to die.”

“I’m not going to touch you.” He said it scornfully, as if the very idea was offensive. “I have to show you something.”

“Why?”

His anger faded a little. “I think you have a right to know.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his flight suit and let the top half hang over his belt. He wore a white sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which he pulled over his head in one smooth motion. His back was all smooth skin and muscle, except for a few scattered scars and the line of aurebesh letters that ran vertically down along his spine.

Congratulations. You can read.

“Oh my gods.” Leia could scarcely breathe. “You...you didn’t read it. It was just...the first words you said.”

“Seems impossible that we haven’t spoken before. But even on Bespin we never talked. Not directly.”

“It’s you,” Leia said, still trying to process it. “You’re the hick Mandalorian. From...Concorda...or something.”

He blinked at her. “Concord Dawn. And I’m not. But my dad was.” He waited a moment, as if he was trying to decide something. “When did they show up for you? The actual words, I mean.”

“I was ten, I think.”

“Me too.” A smile appeared, fleeting but sincere. “My dad said they were funny. Like a joke.” He shook his head. “It’s a fucking joke, all right.”

“Tell me about it.” Leia rubbed her temple. “My soulmate is a bounty hunter.”

“And mine is in love with someone else.” Fett winced as if something had just occurred to him. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if I don’t you’ll get yourself killed trying to rescue Solo. You know what happens now, right? Now that we’ve met? If you die, I die.”

“You could help me. Help me get Han out and-”

“And what? You’ll marry him, move to the outer rim and live a long, peaceful life?” His tone was rich with skepticism.

“Maybe I will,” she lied, trying not to think about the rebel forces gathering on Yavin IV.

He looked at her for a moment in silence and then dropped his gaze. “I’ll leave. Whatever plans you have, I’m not part of them. We’ll both just try to...stay alive.” His shoulders rose and fell in one sharp breath. “Since we probably won’t see each other again, is there anything you want to know?”

Leia plucked at the blanket on the bed. “I guess you’ve heard some of the same things I have.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“I didn’t feel anything when you…” she gestured at her leg.

“Might have been blocked by the gloves.”

“Yeah. That makes sense, I guess.” It might be her only chance to test it. “If you want to try it again…”

He worked his glove off his right hand and approached her cautiously. His hand spread over her thigh, covering his words completely. Leia felt nothing. She gingerly placed her hand on his naked back, over her own words.

And then she felt everything.

It was...a connection. She could think of no other word to describe it. This person belonged to her. His life, his body, his mind and his soul. He fit her like home. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that reflected the same intense longing. “Oh no,” she breathed, overwhelmed and shaking.

“Yeah,” Fett gasped as he leaned in and kissed her and it was perfect the way no kiss between two strangers should be. Leia’s hand went to his chest and then up around his neck as the kiss deepened and then she was wrapped around him and they were both nearly horizontal on the bed.

And then suddenly he was pushing away, detangling himself from the embrace. He turned his back to her and clutched at his head as if he had a stabbing headache. “No,” he growled. “No fucking way.”

Leia couldn’t take her eyes off the words on his back. Her words. She wanted to touch him again. To hold him and comfort him. But clearly that wasn’t what he wanted. She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat. “So I guess that’s real.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still facing away. “No matter what some stupid magic tattoo says, that was out of line.”

“It wasn’t…” She didn’t know how to finish that. Was it better or worse if it truly wasn’t what he wanted? For that matter, how could she be sure that it was what she wanted? “No apology necessary,” she said finally.

“That’s gracious of you.” He reached for his undershirt and pulled it back on. “I think I have all the information I need.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed. “So what now?”

“Now I ask you for a favor.” He turned to face her and he put his arms through the sleeves of his flightsuit. “Be careful. Play along with Jabba and don’t do anything that might get you tossed in the rancor pit.”

She inhaled slowly, weighing her options. “I’ll try if you do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Don’t leave.”

His hands stilled for a second, and then he looked away. “It’s going to be hell,” he said, almost casually. “Not knowing where you are or what you’re doing. Fine. I won’t leave. I’ll help you if I can, but don’t ask me to lift a finger for Solo.”

“Fine.”

---

Things had taken a turn. Leia could feel it in her bones as Jabba’s minions raced for the deck of the sail barge. Fett clearly knew it too.

Artoo bumped against her leg with a quiet beep, and Leia took advantage of the Hutt’s distraction. She crouched down beside the small droid and held the length of chain between her hands. One zap and it broke.

But when she straightened, the bounty hunter was gone.

She heard Jabba’s cry of outrage as she bolted for the deck, but she ignored it. All of his guards were busy fighting. She caught a quick glimpse of her friends on the skiff and then the bounty hunter at the rail. The engines on his jetpack were lit.

Leia seized a pike that had fallen to the deck in the mad rush and swung it as hard as she could. Her aim was too good. Not only did she smash it into his jetpack but the force of the blow sent him over the railing.

Into the sarlacc pit.

She raced to the railing. He’d managed to slow his fall by grasping at the side of the barge, but without a good handhold in reach he was slipping down the side. She reached down with the pike and he grabbed it. A blaster shot ricocheted off the barge inches from his head. Artoo appeared on the deck and whistled sharply. Leia looked over at the droid. “What do you mean ‘it’s going to blow?’”

She jumped barely a second before the explosion. She collided with Fett on the way down and they hit the sand, rolling towards the mouth of the pit until suddenly they jerked to a stop. Fett had one arm wrapped around her and when she looked up she saw his other arm stretched over his head, bent at an angle that screamed ‘broken’ but anchored by his fibercord grappling hook to the skiff above them.

“Leia!” She heard Han shout, but she was too busy trying to hold onto Fett and keep herself from sliding further into the pit.

“Blaster,” Fett rasped. “Sarlacc…”

A tentacle slapped at her ankle and she pulled her leg up as high as she could. She managed to pull the bounty hunter’s blaster pistol from it’s holster and fired at the beast, causing the ground to shudder beneath them.

Chewie appeared over the railing of the skiff and then suddenly the skiff lurched and began to move. Fett let out a muffled cry of pain as it dragged them to safety.

---

“Can you see this?” Leia waved a hand in front of his face and Han squinted.

“I can see the motion.”

“That’s a good sign. Try to get some sleep, okay?” She bent down to kiss his forehead before leaving the Millennium Falcon's crew quarters. Fett was sitting up on the cot, his back against the wall. His arm had been set and placed in a sling and at the insistence of everyone else, his other hand was cuffed to the cot. His helmet sat beside him, and his eyes were half-shut. Lando had given him a pretty big dose of painkillers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse.” His mouth curved into a bitter smile. “You fucked up.”

Leia folded her arms over her chest. “I still saved your life, Fett.”

He shook his head as if the motion took effort. “The sarlacc keeps its victims alive. You could have lived your whole life while I was being digested.”

“I don’t think I could have.” Leia sat down beside him on the cot. “I don’t want you to suffer. That’s not the magic tattoo, that’s who I am.” She brushed a dark curl off his forehead and laid her palm on his cheek. The sense of connection and wholeness she felt at Jabba’s was just as strong now. He leaned into the touch and Leia leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, which led to a longer kiss. And then an even longer one.

“What are we doing?” Fett demanded as soon as they broke apart.

“Nothing. You’re drugged to the gills and Chewie would love to have an excuse to throw you out the airlock.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall beside him. “I don’t like being told what to do. Even by fate.”

“My dad used to say ‘fate is whatever you make of your life.’”

He’d spoken of his father before, and always in the past tense. “When did he die?”

“Years ago. When I was still a child.”

“What about your mother?”

“Never had one.”

“I’m sorry. I can tell by the way you talk about your dad that you were close.” Leia turned her head towards him. “I’m an orphan too, you know. Maybe if we’d met at a different time or in a different place…”

Fett nodded and gave her a quick, tired smile. “If fate is real, maybe it’ll bring us back together when we have an actual shot at it.”

She laughed softly. “I like that idea, actually. Put it to the test.”

He lifted his hand as far as the cuff would allow. “I’d shake on it, but…”

“Nice try.” Leia sat up and gave him one last kiss. “For fate.”

#boba fett/princess leia #random au #my fic #rebelbounty #prompt fic #soulmate au #boba/leia #Anonymous

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 6 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

*****

Azriel was still asleep when she opened her eyes, his hair falling over his eyes as his head dropped onto the back of the chair, had he slept there all night? She couldn't think how he actually managed to fall asleep in a chair of all places. He opened his eyes as she sat up,

"Morning, sleepyhead," she laughed, and he yawned,

"Morni-" and yawned again, setting Gwyn laughing again,

"C'mere, you're hair's all messy." She leaned towards him, quickly tiding it up, brushing it backwards through her fingers, not quite registering how still he had gone until she had finished and sat back, "There we go, that's better,"

"Thank you," he said, his voice much lower than usual, still with notes of sleep in it, she had never noticed it before, and she had to force herself to get up normally, and wash her face, without thinking about that voice. She stared into the mirror for a few moments, mentally preparing herself to face him again, "Gwyn, I'm gonna go and get dressed, I'll see you at breakfast."

"Okay," she shouted back, shit. How was the sound of his voice slowly shredding her self-control? It was just the change in his voice, nothing else, it couldn't be anything else she told herself. She was foolish to even consider it.

Apparently, Cassian and Nesta hadn't emerged yet, so it was just Gwyn and Azriel at the dining table that morning, forcing Gwyn to try to control her thoughts, to push any thoughts of him aside and focus on her food. She hated the silence, it felt wrong, unnatural, and she sighed, anything to break the stillness around them. Even that small sound seemed to wake Azriel,

"Gwyn," she looked up, startled, and smiled, "I just wanted to talk to you about what's going on in Illyria." Oh, she'd forgotten to ask Nesta,

"Okay,"

"I don't know how much Nesta's already told you,"

"I haven't had a chance to ask her yet, so very little."

"Okay, well, the bottom line is that there are those among the Illyrians who hate the changes Rhys has been implementing. Banning wing-clipping, and enforcing it, forcing them to train females, and putting systems in place for those who want help, so they can contact us easily, without their families knowing." Gwyn nodded, good, she'd heard about wing-clipping, seen what had happened to Emerie, it was about time it was finally gotten rid of, completely.

"Okay, so, some of them don't like it, then,"

"No, there are some who have been attempting to ignore the laws, and have failed," he added, seeing her worry, "And then there are those who are restless, hating that they fall under Rhys' jurisdiction. They want an independent Illyria, and freedom to treat their  females how they wish." Gwyn gasped,

"They wouldn't survive on their own, right? They don't have a unified leader, anyone who wanted would be able to invade easily, and their army is paid by Rhysand, they couldn't afford it otherwise."

"Exactly, that's why the wannabe rebels are a minority, but they are there. I promised you no secrets, it's no good trying to protect you from this. There's nothing that could happen in Velaris though, any potential fighting will be in Illyria."

"You're going to fight?" He'd only come back from another war a year ago, and she couldn't face the thought of him, of any of them, on a battlefield.

"Maybe. Hopefully it won't come to that. Hopefully, the loyal Illyrians will be able to stop a full rebellion before it starts. Most of them do support Rhys' new laws, but the minority are very vocal."

"You need to know who is stirring up violence then. And where, and how many, and how strong they are."

"Y-yeah, exactly, have you been reading about this?"

"No, why?"

"Never mind, it's just, you seem to know exactly what to look for, and at dinner last night, you were paying attention to everyone."

"I was just trying to work out what to talk about, I doubt I'd remember it."

"Oh, really, who was complaining, quietly I might add, about the wine running out?"

"Mor."

"Yeah, and what did Rhys say?"

"That it served her right for drinking all his best wine." Azriel raised an eyebrow,

"And Feyre?"

"Laughed at both of them, and called Rhysand a pretentious prick."

"So you don't remember anything?" Gwyn laughed,

"I don't know."

"You instincts are spot-on. It takes months of training for some of my spies to learn to listen to a room like that," he mused,

"Then train me."

"What?"

"Train me. To be a spy, maybe I can help with Illyria."

"Absolutely not, you've not even trained to fight for that long, I'm not letting you anywhere near rebellious Illyrians."

"That's stupid, Az. Train me to help, or at least to listen, I visit Emerie at Windhaven quite often, so I can at least help you get a picture of what it's like there, if nowhere else. Please, I want to be helpful, I'm done being useless."

"You've never been useless, Gwyn, and I will train you, but only so that you have an extra skill set to defend yourself, not so you can go and spy in Illyria." Gwyn huffed,

"Az. You're being stupid, stop trying to keep me safe, train me, and then let me use those skills."

*****

Gwyn was glaring at him, annoyance glimmering in her eyes, he was being stupid, but some part of him couldn't bear the thought of her in danger. She kept her gaze on him as she finished eating, giving him a chance to think,

"I won't say yes," Gwyn shot him another exasperated look, "But," he continued, "You can be a last resort, only if my usual spies can't get in, or can't find anything, then you can go." She narrowed her eyes, considering, and nodded,

"Perhaps Em has heard something, we should ask her today." Azriel nodded, and quickly tidied up their plates,

"You wanna help set up for training?" He grinned, "Should be fun today," Gwyn sat bolt upright,

"Oh no, no, I know that look, you're going to be mean, is there an obstacle course of something?"

"You'll have to come if you want to find out," he slipped out of the room, chuckling as she swore and scrambled out of her chair to follow him. Gwyn's eyes widened at the sight of the course he and Cassian had secretly set up last night before dinner,

"What is it?" She breathed, pretending to be nervous of it, but Azriel noticed how she was shifting her weight from foot to foot, how her voice raised in pitch slightly, she wasn't scared. She was excited,

"It's sort of an obstacle course, but this one simulates enemies, so Cass and I can both watch you fight, without one of us having to be the opponent. And, as a bonus, the second half is brilliant for silent movement training, which is what we'll work up to if you want lessons from me." Gwyn nodded gleefully, and Azriel chuckled at her excitement, "There's only a few things I need to get set up now, the moving parts and stuff. If you like, you can get the weapons racks out and ready while I do that."

As expected, Gwyn was right at the front of the queue to tackle the course, with Nesta and Emerie right behind her, she was bouncing on her toes, waiting, waiting,

"Go!" Cassian's shout spurred her into action, and she leaped over the wall obscuring the course from her view, immediately ducking the padded bar swinging towards her head. She kept light on her feet as she ducked and weaved between moving obstacles, one wrong step and she'd be sent flying. Gwyn kept her focus on one obstacle at a time, facing one, and moving to the next, she rolled sideways, and leaped onto a wall to avoid the final bar, and it slammed into the wood next to her. She gasped, and glared at Azriel, but he chuckled, it wouldn't have really hurt her if she hadn't moved, just left a bruise perhaps, but the near-miss spurred her on, and she sprinted for the next obstacle, but her undivided focus left her exposed for the first 'enemy' to knock her feet out from underneath her. Gwyn gasped and rolled, and Nesta craned her neck to try to see at the sound, glaring at Cassian, and mouthed something at him,

"She says that if Gwyn's hurt, she'll kill us both," Cassian whispered, and Azriel snorted,

"She can try," Gwyn had rolled forwards, her hands automatically raising into her guard, and she easily blocked the next blow from the padded gloves,

"Wait! Az, how do I win?" She shouted when she ducked past and landed a blow, but barely ducked the backhanded counter-strike,

"You run, Gwyn. Run!" He shouted, "You have to beat the obstacles whilst avoiding your enemies, try not to activate the rest of them," Gwyn shot him a look before taking off, and made it past the next obstacle, before another 'enemy' activated, and she was trapped between the two of them. Azriel deactivated them with a quick command to his shadows before they could hurt her, but she was still stuck,

"Azriel!" She shouted, "Make them move, you idiot!" He didn't respond, and just chuckled at her annoyance, "Azriel!" She snapped again, and he reset the course, offering her a hand over the fence to the training ring, and chuckled when she slapped it aside, climbing over herself,

"Not bad for a first try. But, you've got to be aware of your surroundings a bit more, focus on the obstacle, but be aware of the rest of them, both of those enemies were avoidable, in fact, all of them are. When I tested this yesterday, I didn't set any off, Cass set off a few, but you should be able to avoid all of them. You're smaller than us, more agile, use that to your advantage." Gwyn nodded, and grinned when he marked her place, "Beat that next time."

Nesta came within spitting distance of Gwyn's record, a sprained ankle as she underestimated the distance of a jump sending her sprawling to the floor. She was still leaning against Cassian as he fussed whilst Emerie ran the course, only losing when a wing clipped an obstacle, knocking her off balance. She swore, but scrambled over the fence to join her sisters to watch the other females.

"Make sure you cool off, ladies," Azriel called, "Gwyn, you're with me," he stepped aside to a quiet corner of the ring. "First off, I want you to learn to move silently, it should be easy here, there's no stones to move, or creaky floorboards. Go and stand by the wall, and try to reach me without my hearing you."

"Your shadows-"

"They won't betray you, I honestly think they'd rather betray me than you," Gwyn snorted, "Make sure you place your feet carefully, and move slower than you think you need to." Gwyn nodded and Azriel turned his back, waiting for her footsteps to halt as she reached the wall. Ten meters. That was all she needed to cross. She took a deep breath, and fell silent, but after what must have been only a few steps, she rushed, placing a foot too quickly, and Azriel whirled, "Start again, you rushed, move slowly," Gwyn alerted him quickly three more times, groaning in exasperation each time he sent her back to the start, but gradually she started getting closer, only her excitement getting the better of her. She was one step away from him when she scuffed the ground,

"No!" she hissed when Azriel turned to face her, "I can do it, I can."

"I know you can, don't celebrate too early, that's the only issue." Gwyn sighed, and started again, this time remaining silent until she poked him in the shoulder and let out a whoop of delight, grinning at him, and he laughed. She was shining, and his heart leapt with her, his shadows too, her joy becoming his own, and she practically bounced up to him and beamed up at him. There was just something about her, her mere presence lifted his worries, and let his shadows roam, not constrained, but freed. She didn't chase them off as Elain had, or even Mor, she made them sing. He blinked, and realized he'd been staring, so coughed, and forced himself to look away, "Grab a sword, practice your basic movements silently."

Gwyn picked everything up remarkably quickly, it had only taken her half an hour to reach him, and now she was already adapting that technique to the swordplay, even moving the sword silently through the air. Azriel had begun coaching her through it, but now he too fell silent, just watching her, only occasionally offering pointers, and stopped her when he noticed her swings slowing down, her breathing speeding up,

"Go jog a lap, then stretch off, that's enough for today." Azriel stayed to watch, making sure she cooled off completely before leaving her to bathe and change, he should have reports to read from all his spies by now anyway, and Rhys would want an overview this evening.

*****

Gwyn toweled her hair off, and for the first time since she could remember, she had no work to do, Merrill hadn't sent her any messages, any demands more like, and she didn't feel like just sitting and reading on her own. She grabbed her book off her nightstand, and went to find Nesta, but made a face when she heard suspect noises from her friend's room, turning on her heel and heading back the way she had come. She still didn't want to be alone, so she knocked on Azriel's door, and pushed it open at the grunt from inside,

"Can I sit with you, Nesta is, uh, y'know, and I don't want to be on my own. I won't disturb you," she added, noticing the paperwork on his desk, and he smiled,

"Of course, it's just reports to go through,"

"Anything interesting?"

"No. Not yet, but I've only read through a couple, hopefully someone will have something." Gwyn nodded, and settled into an armchair to read. They fell into a comfortable silence, each reading their own material, at ease in each other's company.

As time wore on, Azriel's brows scrunched together, and he narrowed his eyes, even his shadows seemed agitated as they flitted between the two of them. Gwyn set her book aside, and crossed to his side, gently resting a hand on his shoulder,

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing important," he offered her a small smile, "Don't worry," Gwyn squeezed his shoulder softly,

"Az, what is it? Even if I can't help, let me take some of the burden. I won't pretend to know what your job's like, but please, let me help however I can."

"You are helping, by being here, by being safe, you're helping. I have so many people to worry about," he raised the papers, "I can't easily protect them, but you, and the rest of you here, I can keep you safe here. That burden lessens when you're all here." Gwyn softly cleared a spot on the desk, tiding the unusually messy papers, and sat in front of him,

"Did something go wrong?"

"No, I'm just worried it might, honestly, Gwyn, I'm fine." Gwyn narrowed her eyes disbelievingly but before she had a chance to respond, Azriel pushed his chair backwards, and made for the door, "I need to clear my head a bit, I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, okay," of course he didn't want her help, she was probably just a nuisance, she couldn't possibly understand the stresses he faced on a daily basis. If he needed help he'd ask Cassian, she should leave him alone. But, even as she allowed him time, something made her feet move, made her climb the stairs to the roof.

The stars were beautiful, shining together, and she relaxed at the familiar sight, counting the stars as she had since she was a little girl. She stopped moving at the sight of another figure sitting on the edge of the roof, hunched over, his knees drawn up to his chest, with his great,beautiful wings drooping behind him. Gwyn made her presence known as she crossed the roof and sat beside him,

"Az," she whispered, and put an arm around his shoulders, "Please. Talk to me." he shook his head, staring into the distance still, even as a wing shifted closer to her, "What's wrong?" He just turned to face her, his beautiful face filled with despair, his eyes, usually so full of life were dimmed, empty. Gwyn moved before she knew what she was doing, cupping his face in her hand, and he leaned into the touch, "What happened?" She breathed,

"Nothing. That's the problem. Nothing. I can't even do my job." He broke off and turned away, but Gwyn turned him back,

"Talk to me."

"Rhys has a meeting with all the Camp Lords tomorrow, it could be the make or break moment for the rebellion. I was supposed to get information, who tries to fight his new laws, who wants to fight back, you know. I have nothing. He's going in blind. It's my fault, I failed him. Again." Tears pricked Gwyn's eyes at the despair in his voice, the self-loathing.

"You didn't fail anyone. You did everything you could."

"I could have gone in myself."

"To Illyria? They'd have clammed up completely at the slightest whiff that you were there. You have to trust your spies, and sometimes they won't find anything, and it isn't your fault."

"I couldn't even get them in to some camps."

"Again, they couldn't get in, not you. They work for you, but something that goes wrong on their end does not mean that you let anyone down. Sometimes things go wrong, and no-one is to blame."

"I can't keep letting him down."

"You don't keep letting him down. You could never let him down."

"I did. I wasn't with him when he went to that meeting. I could have stopped it." Gwyn knew the meeting he was talking about, "There was no-one to sniff his drink, if I had been there, she would never have been able to sink her claws into him." Gwyn just nestled into his side, letting him talk, "Fifty years, Gwyn. I failed to find a way to save him for fifty years! And then when he got back, I got injured at Hybern, I forced Feyre to go back to Spring. I am the reason that he almost lost his mate as soon as he found her. I should have known that the queens were after Feyre's sisters in the first place, but I failed them, too." Gwyn rubbed his shoulder, holding his gaze as he spoke, "I was too slow in the battle, he died because I couldn't help."

"No." Gwyn breathed, “He died to heal the Cauldron, you couldn't have done anything.”

"Yes, I could. I was with Helion, his specialty is spellwork. If I'd gotten him there faster, they could have worked together."

"You got him there fast enough to revive him."

"But without Feyre, we never would have had the chance. I can't risk something happening again, for all I know, they might all attack him at the meeting. He'd be fine, but still, I should know if there's a plan like that." Azriel finally stopped for a breath, his gaze returning a little, actually looking at her, not just seeing.

"Az, you have done everything and more that anyone could possibly expect. Plan for what might happen, with what you have, but we can't use what we don't have, so don't beat yourself up about it. Please." It broke her, seeing him like this, miserable, thinking he didn't deserve everything he had built for himself. She couldn't bear the thought of him suffering, alone, thinking that he'd failed those he loved most. Before she could reconsider, she was singing, singing the only song she knew would help him, his mother's lullaby,

Arrorró mi niño

Arrorró mi sol

Duérmase pedazo

De mi corazón

Cierre los ojitos

Ya se va a dormir

Que el pícaro sueño

No quiere venir.

Azriel's gaze remained on her as she sang, his breathing becoming more regular, until his shadows began to dance. She was still leaning against his side when the song finished, and she started again, tears pricking her eyes when he joined in, no hint of the misery left in his voice, just hope.

"Let's get to bed, it's late," she whispered, and Azriel didn't complain as she led him back to his room, but when she turned to leave, she couldn't. He needed her now. She perched on the bed beside him, setting a pillow against the wall, and sang again, stroking his hair as he drifted off to sleep, his head in her lap.

*****

Azriel actually felt rested for the first time in far too long, his mind clear, focused, and he carefully lifted Gwyn into his arms. She snuggled into him as he carried her back to her own room, leaving her sleeping, safe in her own bed. He left her a note,

Gone with Rhys to the meeting, I'll be back this evening. Thank you.

He stole one last look at Gwyn's sleeping form before slipping away.

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #Azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn #gwyn acosf #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

[bakamoonshine]

Gazing At My Star

Summary: Loops learns how to drive from Cap, then drives hours just to find the perfect spot to take him.

Word Count: 1455

Warnings: Mentions of food, fluff

“Baby, this is so scary, I feel like I’m going to cra-” Remus’ words were cut off as he steered the car he was currently driving into the curb, making the car come to an abrupt halt. Sirius chuckled, knowing that what he was worried about had just happened.

“Well, you’ve done it now, Loops, no need to be afraid of it anymore!” He slapped his hand onto Remus’ shoulder, continuing to laugh at the unamused look on his face. “It’s just learning to drive, Fruit Loop, it’s not scary. If a I can do it, then so can you. I don’t understand why you even want to learn to drive in the first place – I already drive us everywhere anyway.” Remus looked at him, sucking on his bottom lip while thinking about his response.

“Sometimes I want to take you places. What if I wanted to surprise you? I can’t just tell you where we’re going and make you drive.” Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand and pulled it up to his lips, kissing the tips of each finger as he smiled.

“Well then Re, you better keep trying. You’ve got a long way to go.” Sirius laughed again as he throws Remus’ hand back into his lap, eagerly grabbing the gear shift and revving the engine.

“Watch and learn baby.” Remus winks at Sirius, backing the car up and immediately hitting another curb.

***

“Baby, where are you? We’re going for a drive,” Remus yells up the stairs of the apartment. Sirius comes bounding down the stairs, two at a time, and Remus’ eyes widen, realizing he is about to be crushed by his big hockey player boyfriend. Sirius flattens Remus against the wall across from the stairs, trapping him between the wall and his body.

“And where are we going today, Fruit Loop?” he asks in a somewhat formal tone.

“Well, Cap, I am taking you on the adventure of a lifetime. But you’re going to have to wait and see what it is. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” Remus grinned at Sirius, knowing how impatient he probably felt now. He guided Sirius towards the car, having finally learned how to properly drive, and opened the door for Sirius, winking while he did. Remus got into the driver’s seat and started the car, handing Sirius the aux cord. “You know the rules baby. Shotgun DJs.” Sirius smiled back at Remus, scrolling through his music, and picking out one of Remus’ favourite songs. He groaned in appreciation – he had always loved Sirius’ taste in music as it aligned so well with his, but also somehow managed to broaden his tastes.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Sirius mind started to wander impatiently back to the destination. In all honesty, he had no clue where Remus was taking him. “Re, could I just have a little hint as to where we’re going?” As soon as he said hint, Remus was immediately shaking his head.

“All you need to know is that I’ve got food in the back in case you get hungry. This very well may be our longest trip yet.” Remus widened his eyes in mock seriousness, knowing they had taken a longer trip last week to New York to play the Islanders. Sirius bit his lip to stifle a laugh and reached into the back of the car to grab a bag of crisps to snack on. Both bobbed their heads along to the music playing in the background. Sirius eyed the things that Remus had packed into the back of the car – food, a blanket, pillows…

“Mon loup, are you taking me on a romantic picnic?”

“Baby, you are literally eating all of the food I packed right now. Why would I let you do that if I were taking you on a picnic?

“What can I say…I’m a growing hockey player.” Sirius quipped defensively. He huffed a laugh out as he reached for another bag of crisps. “This isn’t on the diet plan, Loops,” Sirius said cheekily, looking at his lover out the side of his eyes. Remus reached over and rubbed a hand over Sirius’ thigh gently.

“Good thing I’m not in charge of that anymore.” He opened his mouth and made a noise, wanting Sirius to give him a crisp. He teased Remus for a few minutes, until he got tired of waiting for Sirius and slumped back in the driver’s seat. He stayed like that for a few minutes, then sat bolt upright when he realized they were almost at their destination.

“We’re almost there, baby. Can you put this over your eyes for me though? I want it to be a complete surprise.” Remus hands Sirius a bandana and he can’t help but agree to his request, knowing how excited he was. Sirius puts the bandana over his eyes, darkening the world around him, and sits quietly as he waits for the engine to cut off, signaling they had arrived at the destination. Eventually, everything went quiet, and Sirius heard Remus’ door open. He then heard the trunk of the car pop open and figured that Remus was getting everything set up to perfect the surprise. At last, Sirius heard his door open and felt Remus’ warm hands on his body, pulling him gently up into his arms and out of the car. Instead of having Sirius wobble towards the destination, Remus picked him up in a piggyback ride. Sirius felt butterflies flutter in his stomach as soon as he felt the warmth of his boyfriend along his entire front. Sirius could have sat like this for hours, enjoying the feeling of being carried by his strong boy. Remus stopped abruptly, pulling Sirius from his daydream.

“Okay Siri you can take off your blindfold.” Sirius slipped the fabric from his face and stifled a gasp, his face instantly flushing in delight. They were in the middle of nowhere, standing by a blanket surrounded by pillows, the only thing in sight the dark night sky above them. They were far away from any town, giving them a perfect view at the inky black expanse above, dotted with tiny, perfect stars. Remus smiled widely and looked over at Sirius, his smile instantly wiping off his face when he saw tears streaming down his face.

“Baby, baby, what’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can drive us home if you don’t like it!” Sirius felt Remus’ hands skate across his face multiple times, wiping away tears and giving away how flustered he suddenly felt. He cradled Sirius’ face in his hands and gently guided him down to sit on the blanket. He adjusted his body so that Sirius could lay down against him, head on his chest. Remus stroked a hand through his hair, wiping away his tears until he calmed down enough to speak.

When Sirius found his voice, he barely managed to croak out, “I love it.” He felt Remus’ body relax underneath him, his hands gently running through Sirius’ hair, pulling apart the tangles and tugging on it slightly, pulling a satisfied groan from his mouth. Laying with his head on Remus’ chest, his hands carding through his hair, Sirius felt at peace until he suddenly thought, “Re, what made you think of this?” He turned his head up to look up at Remus, watching as a band of pink stretched across his lover’s face like his own personal sunrise, the remnants of the night sky staying in the form of a constellation of freckles.

Remus exhaled loudly, dragging a hand through his own hair, and said, “It doesn’t really seem fair. I get to look at my star every day, so I figured I should take you to see some too.” Sirius’ heart skipped a beat in his chest, his cheeks heating up to mirror his love’s. He didn’t say anything in response, just wrapped his hands around the back of Remus’ neck and pulled him until their lips smashed together. Everything was perfect – the smell of the outdoor air, the soft pillows masking the hard ground, the moonlight shining down on them as they pulled each other ever closer, intertwining every part of their bodies until one couldn’t tell where Sirius ended, and Remus started.

“I’m so in love with you it’s not even funny” Sirius mumbled against Re’s lips.

“Baby, I don’t go around calling just anyone mon etoile,” Remus whispered back, making Sirius’ cheeks flush red. “If you couldn’t tell I’m yours, you’re absolutely blind” Remus paused for a moment to steal a kiss before he continued on in a hushed voice, laughing slightly but meaning every single word. “I am absolutely, unequivocally, desperately yours, Sirius Black. Now and always.”

#coops #coops fluff #lumosinlove #sweater weather #sweater weather lumosinlove #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #sirius black x remus lupin

[dragonsareourfuture]

Mello/GN!Reader — I Forgive You (Part One)

⚠️ Warnings: mentions and descriptions of bullying/abuse. Please do not continue if you are sensitive about that kind of thing or do not enjoy reading about it.

I had this idea but did not have a character to put it to yet. I chose Mello because I thought it worked best with his aggression and inferiority complex. This isn’t meant to label him and his character as a bully, I love the man and would never say that, it’s just what worked well for the story. With that out of the way, hope you enjoy the first part, second part can be found here!

When you first arrived at the spiked gates that guarded the church-like building, you had figured it was a chance at a fresh start — an opportunity to build on what you had learned and grow from that in a more stable environment than the dirty streets of town had been. You remember standing eagerly at the entrance of the orphanage, watching the children around your age kick around a soccer ball, seeming so carefree. It made you yearn for the days when you would feel that way. When you could leave your past — pickpocketing strangers in order to eat and being roughed up by thugs and privileged brats with parents who barely regarded their actions — behind you.

What the orphanage brought you, however, was the opposite. Just your luck, the very first day of your stay you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You had been skipping back to your assigned room after getting a snack from the kitchen. Your mind was blossoming, filled with daydreams of the future to come when you probably should have been more aware of your surroundings. You just couldn’t help let your mind wander when you didn’t have to worry about your survival every spare second of the day.

You were broken out of your daydreams as the sensation of something hard colliding with your shoulder caused your small body to stumble. You toppled to the ground, howling with pain as your arm got caught underneath you and bent in the worst way possible.

With your mind clouded with searing pain as you clutched your arm close to your chest, feeling dizzy already, you searched for the source of your fall. A blurred vision of yellow and black sunk into view. It appeared to be the shape of a person looming above you, saying something that took a few repeats of the same sentence for you to hear without the ringing in your ears. The pain shot up your arm and, though you wanted to make sure the person you had bumped into was alright, you were focused on the fact that your arm, limp at your side as you sat up, was most likely broken.

As the pain got more bearable, the person standing in front of you became clearer. He was dressed in baggy black garments, standing at a height that couldn’t have been much taller than you were, but in this position it was hard not to be intimidated as he leered down at you. His jaw length blonde hair framed his face, casting a terrifying shadow. A scowl contorted his features in a way that told you he was having absolutely no shit today and that you would be better off running.

When you didn’t move, the kid crouched down and moved his hand towards you. For a second, you assumed he was helping you up. But when his fist shot towards your body with speed that made you wince, a brutal blow to the side of the head told you otherwise.

“What’s the matter with you?” His voice echoed, already dizzy from the burning pain in your arm and now disoriented thanks to the new bruise you were sure was forming on your scalp. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

As he was standing now, he delivered an aching kick to your stomach, causing your weak and broken body to flop to the floor pathetically. You choked on air, having the wind knocked out of you and your snack from earlier was threatening to show itself again. Your stomach churned painfully as you screwed your eyes shut. It was always best to just wait it out.

Images from the streets swirled around the depths of your mind, the thieves and gangs and bratty children who got sick pleasure out of beating you into unconsciousness resurfacing. This kid was no different. It was all the same and, the more you thought about it, you could never escape the same old shit.

You must have slipped into unconsciousness because after what felt like a blink later you awoke in a bed, your arm bandaged up and an ice pack resting on your head. Upon hearing you stir, what must have been the nurse hurried to your side and berated you with questions — were you feeling alright? Was the ice pack too cold? Did you know where you were?

All you could answer with was, “What happened?” Your voice groggy and rough as you attempted to sit upright.

The nurse pushed you back down, scolding you and telling you to rest. “You should thank that boy,” she said, adjusting your broken arm and the covers around your waist, “He brought you all the way here. Said you fell down he stairs.”

Although your brain was a bit foggy on the details, you were quite sure that was not what had occurred. You began to protest, but the nurse hushed you with her finger over your lips and instructed you to sleep a while. As she pulled the curtains around your bed closed, separating you from the other sick kids, you sighed in defeat. This was how it was going to be?

Once you had recovered enough from your injuries, you were released from the nurse. You scratched at the cast around your arm nervously as you walked down the hall to your room — your intended destination the previous day — however, much more cautious this time. The gray light that shone through the windows made the hall look much more eerie, raising your alertness to the height that it should have been the day you received your injuries.

However paranoid you were feeling, your nerves met their peek when the shadow of someone standing next to the window caught your gaze. Your head whipped around to face the person the shadow belonged to, coming face to face with your assailant from yesterday. He leaned against the glass, one hand buried in his pocket while the other held a bar of chocolate to his lips. You stared him dead in the eye, waiting for another attack that never came. Neither of your glares relented — yours filled with fear and his so aggressive that you felt your bandaged arm throb with discomfort — as you stalked past the blond.

“Nasty fall you took there,” He said, snapping off a chunk of the chocolate with his teeth.

You flinched at the sound, hurrying away after that.

To think that this treatment would cease after that encounter with the boy would be a foolish sentiment. Not only did it continue, but it got worse with each passing day. As you got older and more observant, you noted different behaviors of the blonde who’s name you learned to be Mello. Of course, that was only a code name, but it was his preferred alias so the kids at the orphanage referred to him as such.

Mello was number two in the training program held at Wammy’s Orphanage to become the next great detective, the one who would solve the world’s most dangerous yet interesting cases until their time was up and a new heir would be chosen. Whenever this other kid, Near, who was considered the first in line to become the next great detective, beat Mello in anything (whether it was in class or something as simple as who’s bed was made neater) the blonde would turn right around and take his anger out on you.

You tried to reason with him through the pain, spitting out blood and words of comfort towards the boy, but this only made him hit you harder, screaming about not wanting or needing your pity.

Once you got too old for childish beatings, rumors began to spread around the orphanage, some as tame as saying that you slept with a stuffed animal, while others were particularly nasty. This was worse than the beatings in your mind. You would rather experience physical pain for a short amount of time than have no one that wanted to talk to you for the rest of your life. Well, one person did stick around for you when you needed it most.

Mail Jeevas, or as you called him around the orphanage, Matt, was always by your side no matter what he heard about you from other kids. He seemed to think that the rumors were childish and cruel, going as far as to talk to Mello about retracting them but, as everyone knows, once you say something there is no taking it back.

It meant the world to you that Matt had even tried considering he was friends with Mello (how anyone could be friends with him, you had no idea) and standing up to the particularly violent kid was, in your book, a profound act of bravery. He never failed to stick by you even after Mello had ran away from the orphanage. You were so attached to your wonderful friend that you asked to go with him when he announced that he would be leaving as well.

“Please! I can’t stay here with you gone! I’m gonna go crazy here alone!” You begged, watching as Matt packed his clothes and belongings in a plain black duffel bag.

“(Name), I know you’re scared, but out there, in the real world, there are things that you’re not trained for.”

You lunged are the brunet, grabbing his arm desperately as if that would change his mind. “I don’t care. Anywhere’s better than here. Just...please.”

“This way is more efficient. You stay here-“

“This way is going to get us killed. You can’t handle yourself alone out there, no offense, and I will go insane if I stay here! No one is on my side here besides you.”

Matt glanced at the floor and then back at you. You pushed your bottom lip out and batted your eyelids pleadingly. He let out a breathy laugh and sighed, “Well, are you gonna start packing?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, Matt! I won’t let you down! We’ll be a team!” You exclaimed, jumping around before bolting off to your room to pack.

<•>

You had elected to stand on the sidelines. Sure, it would have been an amazing feeling to be able to throw that fact that you saved Mello’s life back in his face if he did survive the burns, but you couldn’t even bear the thought of touching him after so long of being free from his torture. 

So, you watched from the sidelines as Matt fearlessly dove into the flames to scoop up the blonde’s near lifeless body, charred and smelling of burning flesh, from the wreckage of the building that once stood as a warehouse, a base for Mello and his mafia associates. The heat from the fire distorted the image as Matt carried the boy closer to where you stood. You gazed down at Mello’s unconscious, helpless form, reveling in the triumph of seeing the previously indestructible (at least in your young eyes) boy so powerless.

Matt broke you out of your trance with frantic words. “We need to get him medical attention.”

“Do we really?”

Matt narrowed his eyes at you and you raised up both of your hands in defeat, “Fine. We can’t bring him to a hospital, so I’ll run out and get some supplies.” you instructed, beginning to walk through the rubble with Matt to the cheap car he drove, the heavily used Camaro being the only thing he could afford considering you both lived on your own with no job. “You take him back to the apartment and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Matt nodded in agreement and loaded Mello carefully into the back seat of the old car, being cautious of the bloodied burns that covered most of his left side. He dropped you off at the supermarket close by and took Mello the rest of the way home, fixing him on the bed and waiting until you finally burst through the door with a shopping bag full of medical supplies. You had to remind yourself to keep your face steady as you neared the bed with your childhood “friend” lying on it. Even when Matt had found him and housed him in the apartment, he had no problems with you renting another room in the complex. But now, what with all the medical attention Mello most likely needed, you had no choice but to stay by his side.

You cringed as you wrapped Mello’s body in clean, white bandages, every touch to his otherwise smooth, pale skin sending you back to your days at Wammy’s. You covered his arm with cloth, vivid images of  when you broke your own arm because of him flooding into your mind. But still, you wondered if this was payback, maybe karma. Mello having to endure the flames licking his skin as a punishment for all of the times he’s hurt you. You wondered if he ever thought about you in what he must have figured were his last moments.

You were torn from your thoughts when a gentle groan emitted from Mello’s lips. He raised his good arm to his head and ran his hand over his aching features. “What...hnng?” The blond managed, opening the eye that wasn’t enveloped in flames and now soft bandages to scan the room, jolting as he saw the figures of you and Matt sitting by the bed.

“Hey, Mihael...” Matt greeted softly in an attempt to ease the boy gently into consciousness.

“Who...eh...Matt? And...” Mello trailed off, propping himself up onto his elbows to get a better glimpse at you.

You avoided his gaze, bowing your head so that your chin rested on your shoulder, speaking so quietly that if it weren’t completely silent in the room, no one would have heard you, “So, you don’t recognize me when I’m not covered in bruises, then?”

Mello’s eye widened for a second before fluttering shut. “(Name)...it’s you?” If you didn’t know better you would say that he was exasperated when your name rolled off his tongue.

“Yeah.” You rose to your feet with a burst of confidence as though suddenly realizing that he was confined to a bed with severe burns all over his body and you were free to do whatever you pleased. “It’s me. Disappointed?”

“(Name)—“ Matt started, interrupted as you continued.

“Were you expecting the same weak little child that you could beat on all the time? Oh, but you poor thing, you can barely move, can’t you? I guess karma really does catch up to a person—“

“(NAME).”

You froze, unaware that you were now towering over Mello, fists clenched in fury and face a burning scarlet. Your breathing was heavy and ragged. Your eyes darted to Matt, then back to Mello. If you weren’t mistaken, there was a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes. Rather than filling you with pride, this fact terrified you beyond belief. You had no intention whatsoever of becoming like Mello, and as soon as you realized you were so close to acting upon your rage, you stepped back and retreated to the couch on the far side of the room.

Although you kept your face buried in the couch cushions, you could tell that someone was getting up judging by the shifting of fabric. To your disappointment, the slow and careful movements exemplified someone with an injury determined to not harm themselves any further.

The couch dipped as the blond sat next to you, grunting and rubbing his arm under the thick layer of bandages. “I...I’m...” he began, unable to get the words out before swallowing hard and trying again, “I’m sorry.”

You let out a dry laugh, lifting your head but not to look at Mello. “Oh, really? Because it seemed to take a lot just to get that word out.”

“Listen, you-!”

You jumped when his voice rose suddenly, pressing yourself against the armrest of the sofa, further away from the blond. Matt was listening in as well and at the harsh tone in Mello’s voice he stood from his chair, more than ready to intervene. But Mello had caught himself, releasing a deep breath from his nose.

“I really am sorry. I know you won’t forgive me this quickly but—“

“Tch, yeah, no shit.”

“Y’know, you’re making this really difficult.”

“I’m making this difficult? No, Mello. You made this difficult when you picked on me and tortured me. And for what!?”

“I shouldn’t have taken out my anger at Near on you, but I—“

“You can’t take back the past.” You finished. Mello nodded and stared down at his lap. Matt was still in ready position. “I just...I just need time. Can you give that to me? Some time...”

And that’s what you took, lots and lots of time to think things over. On the one hand, you hated the idea of forgiving him. He made your life, which was supposed to be better off at Wammy’s, a living hell. You had to work for years on rebuilding your shattered self esteem and had to learn how not to recoil when anyone so much as came near you. But, on the other hand, he could have changed. As you have built up your confidence and skill, he may have learnt kindness and guilt. It was possible, but even so, did it change anything?

Over the course of the next few weeks it was Mello’s mission to give you everything he took away from your childhood. The things you dreamed of while you lived out your days fighting for your life. First and foremost, you’d always wanted a parental figure — someone to hold you when times got tough and to give you advice about stupid little trivial problems like boys or what clothes to buy. How he knew this about you was not in the most honorable way, having stolen your journal as a child and made you watch as he smeared mud all over the pages but not before reading every single entry. But, he figured it was the only information he had and he was determined to use it for your benefit this time.

#tw bullying #death note one shot #mello death note #mail jeevas #mihael keehl #matt death note #x reader #x reader oneshot #death note fanfiction #part one #death note #mello x reader #enemies to friends #sort of friends? #tragic friends #Mello is trying to get better #Matt is lovely as always #digital illustration