#hoping to finish this tomorrow before we move too far past the gun being released for it to be relevant anymore 🙃

[screebyy]

when i say the ager’s scepter lore has consumed me

#wip #weeping #hoping to finish this tomorrow before we move too far past the gun being released for it to be relevant anymore 🙃

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 6

A/N: The sexual tension rises! This chapter is a lot of housekeeping and waiting for things to happen, much like how the characters are waiting for shit to hit the fan. Fun fact, for fight scenes in this story, I reenacted them with my mom to make sure they were realistic. Also, the thought of Barba flustered and face first in a wall is highly funny to me.

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Tags: briefest of child abuse mention (not explicit), normal SVU stuff, Devon gets a little intense during an interrogation scene, but not too bad

Words: 5k+

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Monday, April 6th. 1:05pm

  “Whatcha working on?” Devon asked as she shoved the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth. It had been two weeks since the last attack on Barba, and today was the day that they were finally going to go get Devon’s stitches taken out. Thank god, these things itch so bad, she thought, fighting the urge to scratch at her shoulder. She was currently in one of Barba’s chairs, legs draped over one of the arms, back against the other.

Barba glanced up, smirking at her easy-going posture. “Just finishing up this closing statement for tomorrow, then we can leave.” His eyes drifted back to the legal pad in front of him, pen tapping on the desk lightly as he thought.

“Barbs, you’ve been working on that statement for the past hour. If it’s not done yet, then what makes you think it’s gonna be done any time soon?”

He huffed out a laugh. “For someone with unlimited patience in terms of staking out a perp, you have zero patience for paperwork. Now hush and let me finish this.”

Devon rolled her eyes and continued counting the wooden boards in the ceiling. Barba gave her another glance, before shaking his head and continuing on his statement. After spending the better part of three months with the agent, Devon had certainly proved herself to him in terms of her being able to protect him. He felt at ease around her, not nervous or anxious at all, even with a deadly gang still out there. And even though she seemed relaxed, especially now, lounging in the chair, he knew that she was still on high alert, listening for footsteps outside his office. He still had no idea how she heard people approach from so far away, but she always knew when someone was about to enter well in advance. And no matter how she was sitting in a chair, or on his couch, she was always up and by his side before anyone came in, ready to defend. It was weird the first couple weeks, and the people who visited—usually other attorneys or colleagues—always gave her, and Barba, a weird look, and a wide berth.

The first day someone had come in, Devon had her hand on her glock, resting it easily, but not drawing it. The poor paralegal who was just delivering a message almost passed out at the sight of it.

“We need a code word…for when someone comes in that you don’t know,” Devon had mentioned after the white-faced messenger left.

Barba raised his eyebrows. “You know, I’m not going to know everyone who comes into my office. I didn’t even know that guy. Maybe you should just not grab you gun?”

Devon shot him a glare at that. “And leave you unprotected? No thanks. Like Han Solo, I plan on shooting first.”

 “I—did you really just make a Star Wars reference? Really?” Devon smirked at him. “No, you don’t need to shoot anyone in here.”

And that was that. They never made a code word, but Devon did stop reaching for her gun when people came into his office. Though, she did still stand by his desk and glared at everyone who entered, daring them to try anything.

“You know, you haven’t written anything in ten minutes,” Devon said, snapping Barba back to the present. He looked at his legal pad, at the words, the scribbles, the scratched-out phrases. Suddenly, inspiration hit; he knew exactly how to finish his closing statement. He furiously started writing, cursing his hand for not being able to keep up with his thoughts. After a few moments of scribbling down some last-minute thoughts, Barba put down his pen.

 “Done. Let’s get you to the hospital,” he announced; he could read over it again later that night, at home. He stood, gathering his things. Devon got out of the chair, stretching with her full body—right arm being able to lift high above her head. She scrunched up her face as she stretched, making a weird, groaning noise, then releasing the tension in her limbs.

“Feeling better?” Barba asked, amused.

 “Much,” Devon replied, smiling. Sleeping on a too-small couch for the past ten weeks hasn’t been the best for her back, but like hell would she admit that to him, especially after their last fight about it. He still tried to force her to sleep in his bed—with him taking the couch, of course—at least once a week, to which she denied him every time. She definitely appreciated the thought, but she was there to protect him, to make him comfortable, not the other way around.

Mercy Hospital

Monday, April 6th. 2:37pm

It was something else to have left the office while the sun was still high in the air; Barba had taken a half day just to make this hospital trip with Devon. It shocked her just how much it meant to her that he took time off to go with her, even though she had offered to have Detective Amaro or Fin cover at his office while she got the stitches out.

 “I need the time off, if I’m being honest,” Barba had said. “I’ve been working too much recently.”

Devon rubbed her arm nervously. “Are you sure? I still feel bad that you’re using vacation time for this.”

Barba waved her off. “Don’t feel bad; I got over a month in vacation days saved. Besides, we’ve been having too much takeout. Why don’t we do some grocery shopping after the hospital? I’ll make one of my mom’s special recipes.”

 “Wait; you cook? And we’ve been eating shitty takeout for months?”

Barba laughed. “Yes, I cook. I just haven’t been allowed to go to the grocery store,” he gave Devon a playful glare. “Besides, I haven’t had the time.” It was true; it was rare that they made it back to his loft before 9pm.

She thought about it, weighed the options of going to the store, about how likely it was that he’d be attacked there. “Fine, but let’s stock up so we don’t have to go back for a while. Plus, I’m going to introduce you to this magical thing called Instacart….”

When the nurse came to get Devon, Barba looked like he was going to stay out in the lobby. Devon only needed to give him a stern look to have him following them back to the room.

 “Family only,” the nurse was starting to say.

 “He’s my, uh, boyfriend,” Devon blurted out. Besides the red creeping up her neck, she kept a straight face. Barba, however, raised an eyebrow, face flushed.  He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again.

The nurse gave them both a look. “Alright…,” she replied, motioning for Devon to sit on the raised medical table. Barba sat in the chair in the corner, trying to melt into the wall. After the nurse checked Devon’s blood pressure, throat, and ears, she informed them that the doctor would be there in a moment, and to take off her shirt and change into the hospital gown.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Barba asked as soon as the door was closed, not quite making eye contact. “Amaro and Rollins are going to have a field day if they hear about this.”

 “Look, it was easier than explaining the whole ADA-being-threatened-by-a-gang-thing, okay?” Devon said, taking her shirt off. Barba groaned and turned to face the wall.

 “I feel like I’m in a bad romcom,” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled by the wall.

Devon’s face grew warmer, but she smiled at the sight of Rafael Barba, master attorney, face first in the corner of the room. He was too damn cute when he was flustered. Devon smacked the thought away. “At least you didn’t blow your cover.”

 “After this, we never speak of this again.”

Once in the gown, Devon sat back on the table. Barba eventually turned back around to face the room, face not quite as bright, and they waited for the doctor in awkward silence.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Monday April 6th. 4:30pm

 The grocery store was largely uneventful. Devon was on high alert the whole time, as per usual, while Barba seemed undisturbed, walking up and down the aisles, grabbing supplies.

“How have you not had a heart attack with how tense you are?” he jokingly asked.

Devon rolled her eyes. “It’s a skill, I guess.” Though, she seemed to relax after that, if only just a little bit.

Once back in Barba’s loft, he changed out of his court suit and into slacks and a simple t-shirt, and started getting to work prepping dinner. Devon grinned; she secretly loved when he wore casual clothes. Even on his days off, when they stayed in the apartment watching TV or catching up on work, he normally wore a polo shirt, or a less fancy dress shirt.

“I hope you don’t mind eating a little late tonight,” he called from the kitchen as he cubed the steak.

“Like we don’t every night?” Devon called back, grinning.

Barba huffed at that. “Fair enough.” After a few moments of them both working in silence, Devon picked up her laptop and moved into the kitchen. It was a decent sized kitchen, big enough that he could work on the counter, chopping and marinating ingredients while she hopped up on the opposite counter, typing away on her laptop, a small island in between them. Every now and again, she’d glance up at Barba working, appreciating how deftly his hands moved from meat to garlic to limes. He had rice already steaming and black beans cooking at a low temperature.

“Did your mother teach you to cook a lot of meals?” Devon finally asked, reports long forgotten.

“A few. My abuelita taught me more, but my father didn’t like the idea of a man stuck inside cooking all day,” Barba replied bitterly.

Devon was going to drop it, to leave the conversation there. She wasn’t quite sure why she opened her mouth, but she found herself saying, “neither parent taught me to cook. But, if dinner wasn’t done before father got home, then there would be hell to pay. Sometimes, mother would be too drunk; she’d be passed out before he got home, so I taught myself to cook basic meals…just something quick and easy, before father got home.”

The silence that followed this statement was deafening. Devon’s face flushed as she realized what she had told him, what she had let loose; she didn’t let people know about that time in her life. She was still reeling from the fact that she even spoke when Barba answered in the softest voice.

“Seems like we both had shitty fathers.”

Such a simple statement, yet Devon felt closer to the counselor. They did let the conversation die there, though, neither one wanting to delve deeper into their traumatic pasts; that would be a conversation for another day. Devon swore she could still feel Barba’s touch, the ghost of his fingertip as he trailed it along the scar on her back all those weeks ago, and she shuddered. Maybe they would continue the conversation.

“So, what’s the name of this dish?” Devon asked, pushing all of that out of her mind. She lightly jumped down from the counter, moving to stand next to Barba. She watched as he moved the marinated meat into the pan with a loud sizzle.

“Bistec de palomilla. It’s simple, but delicious. It won’t be nearly as good as mí Mamí makes, but hopefully it’ll still be good.”

Devon smiled; it was endearing that he called his mom “Mamí.” She had the sudden urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to lean her head against his. Fighting this urge, she went back to her forgotten laptop, pretending to type on it. “I’m sure it’ll be great. It already smells amazing.”

“Garlic cooking always smells amazing,” he commented matter-of-factly. She nodded, then snatched her laptop and moved back to the living room. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her. I’ve never had someone cook dinner for me before. That must be it, she thought. It had to be. Why else was she feeling so touched, so excited by a simple dinner?

Dinner, as predicted, was amazing. Devon had to restrain herself from shoveling the food into her mouth faster than she could taste it.

“If this isn’t as good as your mom’s, then I’m going to have to try her version,” Devon said in between bites.

Barba gave her an amused smile. “Usually, we marinate the meat much longer, but I didn’t have the time. One day, I’ll have to make you ropa vieja…maybe on a weekend when I have time to slow roast the meat.”

“I will eat anything you make,” she promised, causing him to chuckle warmly. They talked about food for a little, including Barba raving about his abuelita’s tamales, before they fell silent once more.

Barba cleared his throat awkwardly. “Did you, uh, want to talk about your parents? Because I’m all ears if you did.”

Devon choked on a piece of rice, sputtering. “N-not really,” she coughed out. Once she composed herself, she asked, “why, did you want to talk about your father? Cause I promise I won’t judge you.”

He should’ve known she’d turn it back on him; she always did when he asked about her parents. He should’ve just taken the little bit of information he got earlier, been happy with that. She’d talk about it when she wanted to…if she wanted to.

“Look, I’m not going to push it. I just want you to know that I’m here if you wanted to talk,” he replied gently. Barba’s phone chimed, mercifully saving Devon from responding. A moment later, her phone went off, too.

“Seems Liv wants us to stop by tomorrow,” Devon reported, reading over the text.

“Seems like it,” he agreed. The tension didn’t go away, so Devon stood, grabbing her plate and taking his empty one, heading to the kitchen. She made it to the sink, turning on the water, and started washing the dishes.

“You don’t have—” Barba started, following her to the kitchen, before Devon cut him off.

“You cooked. I’ll clean,” she said simply. He just stood in the doorway, watching her until her hands began to shake in a panic that she hadn’t felt in decades. It’s just Barbs, not father, she thought, but it didn’t stop her heart from beating faster. Finally, he left the kitchen, heading back to the living room and pulling some files out of his case. Once the dishes were done, Devon joined him, taking her usual spot in the armchair, laptop out, and typing away.

SVU Department

Tuesday, April 7th. 10:08am

This had been the most relaxed Devon had felt since taking on the job of protecting Barba. Which wasn’t saying much; she’d seen people sneak guns into the precinct before, perps and suspects alike lashing out and hurting those around them. But it was nice having a room full of detectives around. So, when Olivia asked to speak to Devon in her office, alone, Devon had no qualms with leaving the ADA with the squad; they were going over some case, anyways.

“So, how’s the 24/7 going?” Olivia asked as Devon closed the door behind her.

Devon took the seat across from the Sergeant. “Ah, it’s been going well. No attacks since the Olivera brothers, though that’s just making me more anxious than anything.”

Liv nodded in agreement. “You’re worried that they’re planning something?”

“Why else take this long? Have you heard anything?”

Olivia let out a breath, leaning back in her chair. “No, I haven’t. I don’t know how such a low-ranking bunch of kids are keeping their mouths shut. No one’s talking.”

Devon thought for a moment. “Want to let me have a go at one of them? Whoever you think might be a weak link. I’ll just need someone to watch Barba for a bit while I interrogate them.”

Olivia gave Devon a long look, trying to judge what her real intentions were. “I trust that you know we do not harm the people we’re interrogating?”

Devon gave her a grin. “I know that, and you know that, but they don’t need to know that, right?” That seemed like the correct answer, because Olivia nodded, standing. Devon stood up with her, followed her out of her office. Liv glanced over at the squad; they were in the bullpen, discussing the rape case that Barba was initially called in for today. Seemingly satisfied that they would be there for a while longer, Liv led Devon to interrogation 1, both of them missing the fact that Barba turned at the last moment to see them entering the room, his brow furrowing.

“I didn’t know you had one here now,” Devon said, silently wishing she had her knife; the EMT never got back to her on it, and the small dagger she was using as a replacement was quicker, yes, but paltry in comparison.

“Tony Garcia--we only have him until tomorrow morning. Then he goes to Rikers. If you’re going to get anything, it’s going to be now.” Olivia leveled a heady stare at the agent. “Look, I’m going to let you take point on this. But don’t go too overboard, okay?”

Devon nodded, mentally aligning herself with the mean, scary, intimidating Federal agent that she had to be. She’s only done this a handful of times, and every time, it left a bad taste in her mouth; she saw the look that the observers gave her afterwards, the fear that they tried to mask. But they needed answers, and they needed them now.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Liv said. Devon took a deep breath, rolled her neck, then burst through the door, slamming it against the wall. It hit so hard that it ricocheted off the wall, closing harshly behind her. The man in the chair had been slouching before she came in, but now he was sitting ramrod straight, eyes huge.

“Why, hello there, Garciiiiii-ya!” Devon said in the most obnoxious, over-the-top voice she could muster. “I’ve heard that you’ve been a bit of a bad little boy, huh? Not telling the good detectives here anything.”

“What the hell is this?” Garcia asked, looking at the one-way mirror in horror. Good, so the façade was unsettling him. But would that be enough to make him talk? Devon wanted to push him harder.

“No one’s there ta help ya, buddy boy. It’s just you,”—Devon took her knife out and pointed to him—“and me.” She slammed the knife down hard enough that it stuck up straight out of the table, blade sinking into the soft metal a couple of centimeters, the handle far enough out of reach that Garcia, with his hands cuffed to the table, couldn’t grab it. Devon moved to stand right next to the man, uncomfortably close, putting her head right next to his ear, so close that he could feel her breath on him. “Now, are you gonna answer my questions, or am I gonna start taking bits of you?”

Garcia lurched away as if she struck him, trying to put as much space between them as possible.

In the observation room, Olivia watched, listening intently. It was working. As much as Olivia hated watching Devon play this role, it was actually working. Garcia was going to break, he had to—

“What the hell is going on in there?” A voice asked. Liv turned to see Barba sticking his head in. Once he saw the scene unfolding, he came to stand next to the Sergeant, intrigue and a creeping horror rooting him to the spot, like watching a car crash.

“Y-you can’t do that!” Garcia yelled, once again looking towards the mirror. “Please! Someone! Get her away from me!”

Devon chuckled darkly, pulling her knife out of the table and sitting on top of cool metal, using the tip of the dagger to pick under her nails. “I already told you, no one’s there, Tone. It’s just us. So, here’s how this is gonna go; either you start telling me about the Ace’s hit on ADA Rafael Barba, or I’m going to take your pinky. Then your ring finger. And so on and so forth, you get the picture. Now, which hand is your dominant hand?” When Garcia didn’t answer, she reached for his left hand—the hand closest to her.

“Wait! I’ll tell you everything I know! But I’m only a scout; I don’t know much,” Garcia pleaded.

“You have to the count of three,” Devon replied. She stood, gripping his wrist in an iron grip. She was pushing his hand against the table, attempting to get his fingers to lay flat. Garcia was struggling against her, but with his cuffed hands and seated position, he quickly lost. With his fingers splayed on the table, Devon held the dagger poised above his pinky. “One…two—”

“We’ve been waiting!” Garcia yelled, causing Devon to pause. She didn’t release him, continuing to hold the razor-sharp edge an inch from the man’s digit.

“For?”

“Marco to get back into town. He’s the best of the Aces,” he gasped out. Devon thought for a moment, contemplating if she should try and get more out of him now, if he’d shut his mouth later. She had no idea who this Marco was—never saw anything on him in the database.

“When does he get back?”

“I don’t know! I told you, I’m just a scout, I swear!”

“Wrong answer, Tone,” Devon said, repositioning the dagger above him. Instead of more information, though, Garcia just started yelling, begging and pleading for Devon to have mercy on him, that he knew nothing. Just then, the door burst open, Olivia coming in.

“That’s enough, Motely,” she ordered.

Devon let out a disappointed sigh. “You’re no fun, Sarge.” As she was leaving, she turned and winked at Garcia. “Just remember, I work with the FBI. I can find you anywhere.” She gave a little wave and a bright smile, and she thought Garcia was going to faint. Once in the observation room, Devon let her shoulders drop, resheathing her dagger and trying to shake off that persona.

“That was…highly disturbing,” Barba muttered, making Devon jump; she didn’t even notice he was there. Devon was suddenly embarrassed. How much did he see? By the look in his eyes, he had seen enough.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” she replied defensively. “Besides, at least I got a name out of it.”

“Which is better than nothing, but barely,” Olivia announced, coming out of the interrogation room. “Good job in there, Devon. You made the man piss himself.”

She hated the accusatory tone that Liv used; was she really that intimidating? She couldn’t bring herself to look at the counselor, but she felt his gaze on her, examining her. She didn’t think she was that bad. But then, replaying the scene in her mind, maybe she was that bad. Ugh, she needed a shower.

Barba couldn’t look away from the agent, someone who he had thought he had all figured out. You don’t know her as well as you think you do, he thought disparagingly. “Do we know who this Marco is?” He asked, finally pulling his eyes to look at Liv.

“No, but we can find out,” Olivia replied. “I’ll have Rollins look into it, shoot you an update when we have one.”

Barba nodded, then looked at his watch. “Fine. We need to be heading to the courthouse; I have a trial in twenty minutes.” Still avoiding eye contact, Devon led Barba outside to wave down a cab.

They spent the first few minutes in an uncomfortable silence. Devon looked out the window, willing the taxi to go faster, so that Barba would be sucked into court, and she could just sit in the gallery with her shame.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Barba finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, like he didn’t want the driver to hear him. Like he, too, was embarrassed and ashamed of Devon’s display.

She sighed through her nose, closing her eyes. “Just something I picked up while working.” Hoping he’d drop it, she continued staring out the window. She felt him shift on the seat next to her, but he didn’t ask any more questions.

Courthouse

Tuesday, April 7th. 12:15pm

They made it to the courtroom with five minutes to spare. Barba took his normal spot by the prosecutor’s table, Devon sitting right behind him in the gallery. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t pay attention to the trial at all, completely zoning out until the Judge banged her gavel, calling it quits for the day. Devon looked at her phone, shocked to find that it was nearing 5pm. How’d she miss over 4 hours of the day? Focus…she thought to herself, mentally shaking the fog out of her mind. She stood as Barba packed his things, putting the papers neatly away into his attaché.

“Your office next?” she asked; a normal question after a trial. She usually had his schedule memorized, but it changed often, and the visit to SVU had thrown a wrench into the day.

He snapped his case closed, taking the handle and looking up. “Yes. I only have a couple things to work on, then we should be done for the day.”

“Good. That gives me some time to look into Marco,” Devon replied. It’s not that she didn’t trust Rollins and the NYPD’s resources, but she knew that her resources were better. Barba nodded, the same look from the observation room flashing through his eyes for just the briefest moment as he looked at her, then it was gone. Devon swallowed past the lump in her throat, turning to lead him out of the courtroom. After working together so long, she knew the building as well as he did, maybe even better. She had a way of noticing hallways and doors that most people didn’t. She kept at a brisk pace, one that Barba almost had to jog to keep up with.

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Tuesday, April 7th. 5:15pm

Devon was typing furiously on her laptop, scanning the FBI’s database for any Marco in New York City affiliated with a gang. At first, she simply looked within the Aces, but that search turned out to be futile. It didn’t help that Olivia had texted her as much; Rollins had hit a dead end, and they had no other possible leads on the name. Tony Garcia had refused to answer questions, or to talk at all, anymore. It seemed like he was scared into some sort of stupor, his eyes unfocused and his mouth not forming any words. So, that left Devon to find out what she could on the one lead they did have. And she would find something. She had to. For Barba’s sake.

Ping! A page uploaded. This looks promising…Devon thought, clicking through some files. She found a name, one that had appeared a couple of times in a few homicide cases; Marco Sorrel.

She waited for his page to load, then called, “hey Barbs, come look at this.” She was seated on the couch, Barba at his desk, as per usual. He looked up at her voice, then stood and came over. This was the first time she had spoken since getting back to his office, and he was somewhat relieved to hear her voice. He sat on the couch next to her, huddling close to look at the screen.

There was a picture of the man on the left side of the screen, his profile on the right. The picture showed a Hispanic man in his early 30s with short, black hair. He looked like any face in the crowd, no particular identifying marks outside of mean-looking eyes, and one other thing; he had a tattoo on the right side of his neck: two poker cards, an Ace of Spades and an Ace of Hearts.

“Those tattoos seem a little cliché for someone in a gang called the Aces,” Barba pointed out.

“I’d hate to agree with you, but I do. Tattoos mean nothing, really; just a way to tell him apart from the crowd. Look at this though.” Devon pointed to the other side of the screen, the one with his criminal profile written out.

“Says here that he’s been connected to at least six counts of aggravated assault, and three homicides,” Devon continued. “He’s never been caught; every time he gets cornered by cops, it seems, he shoots his way out of it. Hmmm…no family, no aliases, the guy seems to be unattached.” They sat in silence, letting the weight of Devon’s words sink in.

“That…doesn’t bode well for me,” Barba finally said. He meant it as a joke, but his voice fell flat. “I’m almost glad that whatever persona you had in the interrogation room is at least some part of you.” He wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them. He saw the look on her face, how her eyes seemed to dull slightly.

“You’re right; it’s good that I can scare someone so bad, they urinate. I’ll be sure to remember that when Marco comes after you.”

“Dev, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant…”

“What did you mean, then? What could you possibly have meant?” Devon asked, voice deadly quiet. She stood, closing her laptop and walking to the other side of the office. Barba cursed himself; he saw how she had collapsed in on herself after the interrogation. How could he have made such a stupid comment?

Barba pulled himself to his feet, took a step towards her, then stopped, running through his words. “I’m sorry that I said that; it was a stupid mistake. Devon, you don’t need a persona to take on Marco. Did you forget how you’ve already saved my life? Twice? Hell, you got stabbed protecting me! I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, what you’ve sacrificed for me. And even before today, some thug like Marco Sorrel wouldn’t scare me, because I know I have you watching my back.”

They stood in silence for a moment, Devon drinking in his words. This was the first time he ever thanked her for her service, ever acknowledged the fact that his life was in danger. She felt familiar butterflies in her stomach, and tears briefly tinged in her eyes. She blinked them away rapidly, not even completely sure why they were there.

Just when Barba was sure Devon wouldn’t respond, she spoke, softly at first. “Look, Barbs…I know this hasn’t been easy on you, as much as you like to act like nothing’s changed. You always seem so calm, collected, and hell, maybe you are. I’ve only known you for a couple months, and only while you’ve had a target on you. And I know that I’m not the easier person to be around,” she shrugged, smiling slightly. “But in this time together, you went from a victim in my mind to a friend. I do actually care about you, about your wellbeing. Unfortunately for you, I’m a ride-or-die friend as it is. So, while I appreciate your words, trust me when I say I’m not ‘sacrificing’ anything by being here for you. I’d be here anyways.”

He had never felt safer in his life, standing in his dimly lit office, staring at this stranger—no, this friend—who had come into his life like a whirlwind. So, this is what it’s like to have someone you can trust with your life, Barba thought. He was suddenly very jealous of Olivia; she had a whole team of people like this? Maybe there was something to this whole “friends” thing that Barba had been missing out on, something he didn’t realize he wanted, needed.

“Thank you,” Barba said sincerely. There was nothing else he could think to say; nothing that could convey his thoughts any better. He gave her a smile, one she returned before taking the few steps to him and enveloping him in a hug. It caught him off-guard—Barba wasn’t much of a hugger—but he returned it, rubbing a small circle into her muscular back. He tucked his face into her hair, breathed in her scent; she felt so strong, so reassuring in his arms. He could have spent a lifetime standing there, holding onto her forever. But just as quickly as it started, Devon was moving away, arms releasing him as she pulled back.

“Sorry, I should have asked before hugging you like that,” she said, cheeks flushed.

“No, no, it’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.” Their eyes made contact, locking them into place. Devon wasn’t sure what she saw there, but she couldn’t force herself to look away. She could still faintly smell his cologne on her, feel where his hand had rubbed her, where his head had rested against hers. Feeling her face heat, she ducked her head, breaking the eye contact.

“Almost done?” She asked, gesturing towards the paperwork still scattered on his desk.

Barba swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Ah, almost. One more opening statement to prep for….”

And just like that, the moment was gone, and they were both back to their spots, Barba at his desk, Devon on the couch, both working away into the night.

#rafael barba x oc #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #everyone deserves love #edl #edl ch 6 #everyone deserves love chapter 6 #I had a lot of fun writing the interrogation scene

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 12

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,817

Warnings: slurs, violence

I see the bad moon a-rising

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin'

I see bad times today

(x)

Flip had known David Duke was going to come to town, it’s not like this was a new surprise. He was given weeks to prepare, spent time with the organization getting everything in place. He should feel ready. But he didn’t.

Then the real Ron Stallworth was put on escort duty for Duke and he really didn’t feel ready for all this. What was the chief thinking? Not only was he putting a black officer in charge of the most prominent white supremacist in America, Ron was also the man that had been speaking on the phone with him for months.

The stress was starting to get to him. He was constantly working scenarios out in his head, every little situation that could go possibly wrong, and what he could do to fix it if it happened. In theory it was once day, just a few hours spent at a steakhouse. They would get through it one way or another. But he couldn’t help but feel this whole operation was about to be a disaster.

“Flip?” Elle’s voice called to him.

He blinked his eyes a few times and he came back to reality. He was sitting in Elle’s living room with her on the sofa, the two of them sharing Chinese food he’d brought over. It was the night before the big day.

“You spaced out there for a minute, everything okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about work,” He rubbed his face with his hand, trying to wake himself back up.

“You’ve been really stressed out lately, is that because of work too?”

“Yeah, it’s—” He stopped himself.

“Confidential, I know,” She finished his words. “But I’m still worried. How much longer do you think this case is?”

“Could be years, could be tomorrow. I really can’t say,” He sighed.

Part of him wanted this to be over. He was mentally exhausted from dealing with the klan day in and day out. But he know this was important, that they needed to be taken down. He just hoped it could be done smoothly. He suddenly felt her fingers intertwine with his.

“You’re going to get through this,” She assured him. “You’re gonna do what you need to do, and I’ll be by your side through it no matter how long it takes,”

He looked at her, taking in the resolution on her face. She believed in him, in his ability to see this through. This woman knew who he was undercover with, had even accidentally met some of the targets, and was still supportive of him. He had other girlfriends in the past tell him they supported him, but this time he felt like he could really believe it. He gave her hand a light squeeze and nodded at her.

“I’m going to get through this,”

_______

"You know something about that, don't you Flip?"

Blood rushed in his ears, for a second the world seemed to stop. Felix just called him by his name, his real name. He knew, how did he know? Is he about to be exposed to the entire organization without any backup? Ron wasn't in the room, he must have left for somewhere. Fuck this was about to be a worst case scenario.

He didn't remember the guy being introduced to him. Was it another undercover case? Army? Did he arrest him? Fuck, why can't he remember? His mouth was on autopilot, denying and covering the best he could.

Suddenly a waiter approached the table, stopping them all.

"Felix Kendrickson, you have a call,"

He stood up from the table, leaning over to Flip before he left.

"We'll talk about this later, Flip," He spat out before leaving.

The majority of the table hadn't noticed the interaction, but those who did took turns glancing in his direction. He pretended not to notice, not saying anything as he silently plotted his next step. Maybe he could leave now? Excuse himself before he's exposed? He took a sip of wine to calm his nerves. He wasn't going to abandon the case, he could talk his way out of this.

Felix came back into the room but didn't even acknowledge Flip. He gave a curt nod and Ivanhoe and the mystery man got up and followed him out without another word.

Something has to be going on. With all their talk to explosions and revolution, whatever they were up to it couldn't be good. He had to follow them.

"Why was he calling you flip?" Duke's voice came from his right side. That's right, he still had to keep his cover.

"We were in prison together, it was an old joke. I think he just violated his parole though," Prison, he put the guy in prison. He remembered now.

He got up and calmly walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed he took off into a sprint, trying to see where the men had gone off to. He was near the entrance when he heard a car engine start. He looked out a window to see Felix driving a car out of the lot and down the road. He followed the car at a distance, trying to keep from being seen.

He lost their car at a red light, the vehicle disappearing around a corner as a line of cars passes in front of him, preventing him from moving forward. Behind him were more cars so backing up isn't an option either. He brings a fist down on his steering wheel, grunting in frustration.

There was no police scanner in his car, just his gun under his seat and his badge hidden in his glove box. He couldn't listen to what was going on, or if Ron had made any calls in to the network. He was going to have to wing it.

As soon as the light turned green, he gunned it. A straggler from the recent red light almost T-boned him as he sped through the intersection, causing them both to swerve. He recovered as best he could and kept going despite the horns blaring behind him.

He weaved through the streets of Colorado Springs, looking for any sign of the car. There's a few false alarms, but once he sees the passengers his heart falls. They're nowhere to be found.

He thinks that he should maybe start to head back when he hears a thundering BOOM a few streets to the west. Immediately he steps on the gas and his tiles squeal as he peels toward the noise. That had to be them, the crazy motherfuckers. What the fuck did they do?

He follows the smoke billowing up into the sky. As he turns the last corner he sees the police are already on the scene. Someone is on their stomach on the ground with a gun pointed at them. Did they catch the perp already? If it's Felix and company shouldn't there be more on the ground. Then he saw the man's face. Ron.

"Hey, HEY," He screamed as he rushed out of his car. The officers turned to look at him. He'd grabbed his badge and gun from the car as he rushed toward them.

"Who the fuck are you?" One asked.

"I'm an undercover cop you idiot," He spat back, throwing his badge at him.

He made them get off Ron and free him from his cuffs. He looks around and evaluated the scene in front of him. It took him a moment but he saw that the fireball in front of him was coming from a red VW Bug, and an overturned vehicle next to it. The car Felix was driving. He heard a wail and saw Connie on the ground crying. He put two and two together and bit back a grimace before turning to the officers.

"We have one black officer on the whole force and you can't bother to know him? Shape the fuck up and arrest that woman!” He yelled.

The officers scrambled to arrest the right person and Ron sprung up and ran toward the house that was closest to the flames. He watched him help up two women, one re recognized as Ron's girlfriend from the Black Student Union, and bring them father away.

"Is everyone okay?" He asked, seeing that the girls looked a little dazed. No doubt they had been knocked over by the blast of that were that close.

“We're fine, I'm gonna take them to the hospital just in case," Ron told him, ushering the girls to his car.

"I'll stay behind to make sure fire and anyone else that comes sets this up properly. They'll probably take Connie to an emergency unit too so be careful," He leaned by the open window of Ron's car as he spoke.

"We will be, you stay safe too," He said as he turned on the engine.

"And if you see Elle, tell her I'm okay," He knew the words were simple, but she'd appreciate them.

Ron met his gaze and nodded.

"Will do, brother. I'll see you there," Flip stepped back and the car rolled off away from the fire.

He took a deep breath. He could hear the fire engine in the distance and the police sirens approaching. Connie was currently being loaded into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher accompanied by an officer. The VW Bug let off another spurt of flames.

This is not how he thought this day would go.

_______

He drove to the hospital about a half hour later, trying to decompress and process what he just witnessed. The sight of the burning car, the smell of kerosene and smoke, the wailing of Connie mixed with the screams of Ron and the officers. What a shit show.

He became aware of how tightly he was gripping the wheel when he heard a knuckle crack. He loosened his grip and took a breath. He knew he should go back to the organization now, the longer he stayed away the more likely he was to blow his cover. But he wanted to make sure his partner wasn't going to be put in handcuffs again. And they'd need a statement from him about what just happened, and to know not to release anything about his involvement as an officer.

He was thankful the three men were pronounced dead on the scene. They were vile human beings who were intent on killing innocent people sure, but he didn't want to imagine the agony of surviving that kind of explosion. And he was sure they would be a nightmare for the nurses. Connie was sure to be a handful on her own, the way she was screeching and flailing. He hoped Elle wouldn't have to deal with all this, maybe she was helping other patients.

He swung into a parking spot and rushed inside, barely stopping at the front desk to flash his badge and ask which way to head. The nurses must have already seen the rest of the patients come in because they looked grave.

He dashed down the left hallway, bursting through the double doors that lead to the small emergency center. He passed the empty waiting room to enter the patient area. The first room he passed held Ron and his friends. He skidded to a halt and caught his breath.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, entering the room.

"Yeah, I'm okay. They're okay. No damage on us, I think we're just here as more of a precaution," Ron explained. "How's the scene?"

"It's being handled. It's not pretty but at least it was contained and didn't harm anything else. You guys should be good to go home tonight, your house is fine,"

"Thanks," Patrice said from across the room. Her and her friend looked to be in no mood for talking, which he understood.

"Your girl was just in here, I told her you were okay," Ron offered, giving him a smile.

"Thanks. I told her I wasn't gonna get into trouble today so she probably had a heart attack with this many officers coming in at once. Where is she now?"

"She went down the hall to get the medicine for the nurses to work on Connie. She had some scrapes from resisting arrest but they can't get her to settle down enough to help her,"

"She seems to have quieted down now, maybe she—“ His sentence was cut off by a loud shriek and the sound of glass shattering.

He took one look at Ron and ran out of the room, looking for the source. He found it a few doors down the hallway. Connie was being tended to by five nurses, most of which were holding her down while she thrashed in the small hospital bed. An IV had been attached to her arm but it appears to have been ripped out and the glass container smashed on the floor with the liquid seeping across the tile.

"Ma'am, please cooperate, were just trying to help," He heard Elle say. She was by the nurse's cart, rifling to find something in the mess.

"I'm innocent, you can't do this to me!" Connie screamed in response.

The nurses tightened their hold. No one seemed to notice his presence yet. He feared entering the room in case Connie noticed him and she figured out who he really was. She hadn't noticed him at the scene, too busy staring at the charred Ford.

"Ma'am we cannot help you unless you calm down. You have several scrapes we need to tend to, we want to make sure they heal correctly," Elle continued with a even voice.

She spoke calmly and he could easily see how any patient would find it soothing. She was a sight in her uniform, looking professional and focused. She carefully drawing the contents of a small bottle into a syringe. She brought it eye level, inspecting it, squirting some out, before drawing closer to the distraught woman. Her shrieks had become quieter, becoming more of whimpers. She wasn't aware of the syringe approaching her.

"We'll need to disinfect the cuts and get them wrapped in gauze," She explained out loud to the other nurses, who nodded in affirmation.

She looked at the nurse across from her and nodded. That nurse began to talk to Connie, diverting her attention while Elle drew the needle closer. They were trying to inject her, probably with a sedative, in order to calm her down. The distraction seemed to work until Connie felt the pinch of the needle entering her arm. Her head jerked back, looking at her arm and then at Elle.

It was at that moment he noticed her necklace falling forward from under her uniform collar, the same moment Connie saw it as well. Elle seemed unaware, focused to keeping the woman calm as she finished the injection.

Suddenly, Connie broke the hold the nurse had on her right arm, lunging it over to grab at Elle's necklace. She yanked the chain down, her head jerking with it.

"You filthy Jew, what'd you put in me?" Connie gritted out, fist tightening around the chain as the nurse clambered to get ahold of her.

Elle's expression was steeled, jaw set. One hand was on the syringe, now removed from her arm, and the other was desperately trying to pry her fingers off her necklace.

"It was a sedative ma'am, the same one we tried to put in your IV before you broke it. We promise, it's for your own good. We aren't here to hurt you," She said in an even tone, expertly masking her anger.

"You don't get to tell me what's good for me you dirty kike!” Connie roared in response.

The nurses all wore the same expression of shock. Flip was sure they'd seen and heard worse, but such an open attack right in front of them must be jarring. It sure disturbed him. Elle took a deep breath before speaking again.

"Ma'am I need you to let go," She said evenly.

"I watched my husband die today. A good man. A pure man. He would have killed you if he knew you were putting poison in me," Connie's voice was full of malice, her grip tightening around the necklace to the point of drawing blood where the pendant came to a point.

Elle yelped, the metal chain digging into her skin before breaking and clinking to the ground. She stepped back, holding her hand to her neck to make she was okay. Her composure was broken, eyes filled with rage. In one swift motion she drew her arm back and rocked it forward with all her strength, her fist connecting with the woman's cheek.

Connie grunted and fell limp against the bed, knocked out cold. The room was dead silent. It was if time had stopped. Elle's chest heaved as she slowly came back to reality. She took one look at Connie and looked frantically at her fellow nurses.

"Is she—” She started to ask lowly.

"She's just knocked out, it was the sedatives, right?" One nurse responded, looking at the others. A chorus of affirmation followed.

"It was the drugs that knocked her out, poor thing has had a hard day," One said.

"I heard she fell on her head while being apprehended, hope she doesn't get a bruise," Another offered.

Elle's posture relaxed, her eyes growing glassy and her hands gaining a tremor. Flip decided it was time for him to enter.

"Eliana," He said softly, getting to her side with just a few quick strides. The nurses seemed caught off guard by his presence, eyeing the badge and gun on his person.

"She's not in trouble is she? She was just defending herself," A nurse asked, ready to step forward and come to her defense.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, I didn't see a thing," He said simply, pulling his girl into a hug.

"Flip?" She asked, not having the strength to look up at him.

"I'm here, come on, let's get you some air," He said quietly.

A nurse picked up Elle's necklace and held it out to Flip, who took it and nodded his silent thanks.

"Thank you ladies, my partner is down the hall if you need anything. I'm gonna make sure Elle is okay," He escorted Elle out of the room, his arm looped around her waist.

_______

There was a bench right outside of a maintenance door. He sat her down, moving right next to her, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. She hadn't said a word as they walked down the quiet hallways. She just stared dead ahead, eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

"Talk to me," He murmured, tucking a stray curl back under her cap.

"I could lose my job," She whispered, voice thick from holding in emotion. "I just punched a patient in the face what the fuck what I thinking?"

"She physically attacked you and was screaming hate speech I think any sane person would consider that self defense," He reasoned with her.

"It doesn't matter, I lost my cool. She was in my care, it shouldn't matter. This could be a nightmare for the hospital if it gets out" She buried her face in her hand

"I don't think it's gonna. The nurses you were working with seem to have your back on this one. One of them looked ready to take me out too when I came into the room. And I doubt Connie will have any memory after getting clocked like that,"

Elle groaned in response, rubbing her face with her hands. She swiped under her eyes, trying to prevent any tears from falling while she was on shift.

"No matter what happens, you're going to be fine. You won't lose your job, they love you here and aren't going to fire you because you defended yourself against a crazed racist," He assured.

"I hope you're right," She sighed, bringing her hand up to her throat and feeling where the chain cut into her skin.

Suddenly, her hand stopped as she remembered her necklace had been broken off her. She started to stand when he dug into his pocket to bring it forth.

"It's here, don't worry. I'm sorry she broke it, I know how much it means to you,"

Elle sucked in a breath, new tears welling in her eyes. Her mouth was drawn tight, preventing any emotion from escaping as she gingerly touched the necklace laying in his palm. The pendant, which had survived a genocide, years of torture and pain and a trip to a new country was untouched. The silver star stood resolute against the pale flesh of his palm. It was the chain, which was weak from decades of wear, that has been broken.

"Mama won't be happy when I tell her about this," She noted. "I think I could get a new chain, this one looks beyond repair,"

She took the necklace from his hand, rubbing the pendant between her fingers before tucking it into her breast pocket.

"I think you're right," He said. She was coming out of shock and seemed to be reasoning with herself again, a good sign. "It's going to be okay sweetheart,"

"Ron told me what happened today. You're working with a bunch of lunatics,"

"Are we talking about the organization or the police?" He asked, realizing it could very well be either after today's events.

"I meant the org but both of them. It's meshugas, I don't know how you work with either of them," She gave a quick laugh of disbelief.

"Its been a trip," He didn't want to speak ill of his department, but after watching how his fellow officers handled things today, he wasn't happy. "I'll have to head back soon. My cover was almost blown today and I have my work cut out for me,"

"You're going back?" She removed her head from his shoulder and looked at him incredulously.

"The guys who blew my cover are the same ones getting their ashes scooped into body bags right now. I think I have a good shot of this working out," He then hurried to explain. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was safe,"

She just stared at him for a moment, eyes searching for any doubt in him. He remained firm, he knew this was the right thing to do.

"You'd better come home in one piece Zimmerman," She warned. "Or else there's gonna be a lot more racists with black eyes today,"

"I promise you," He held out a hand to her. She took it and gave it a squeeze.

"Call me before you get to my place? So I can get some dinner started?"

"Of course," He reaffirmed.

"I guess I should get back too, I made kind of a mess in there. I should get to cleaning," She sighed, standing up from the bench and smoothing her dress out.

"You gonna be alright? I can take you home," He offered.

"No it's okay, I have to finish my shift. I'll be fine,"

"Okay, I'll see you tonight then. Tell Ron where I'm headed and that this is something I gotta do without a wire,"

"Ten four," she mock saluted him.

She started to head back toward the door when he caught her and brought her flush to his body. He pulled her into a kiss, cradling her face with his hands, silently communicating every emotion he’d been holding in that day. He swore he’d come home to her tonight, he’d put an end to this.

“I love you,” He whispered as he broke the kiss.

“I love you too,” She whispered back. “Be safe,”

He promised to do his best.

_______

Hi! I took a few week off to focus on activism and getting back to work in the middle of this g-d damn pandemic. Sorry for the delay, here’s the next chapter!

#flip zimmerman #flip x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x oc #artb #ARTBmasterlist

[buckthegrump]

Where You Go - 4

After a run-in with some hitmen, you find yourself with a new protection detail.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1562

Warnings: not much, swearing? (but is that even a warning with me anymore?),

A/n: (Infinity War/ Endgame who?) if you want to be tagged please look at the link in my bio this is for @sunmoonandbucky

Y/n was falling behind on grading, so far behind that, she even canceled a few assignments and made the homework easier. She also became a more lenient grader which her students were grateful for. She didn’t feel too guilty about it though, most of her students were doing the work.

“Ok, if y’all are gonna give me bullshit essays that’s fine,” Y/n she told her last class of the day who were all beginning to pack up despite the fact that they had 45 minutes left in class, “All I ask is that you use an online grammar checker. There are some that are free and easy to use. Just stop trying to melt my brain. Also, the phrase is ‘couldn’t care less’ if you say ‘could care less’ it means you do care even if it’s just a little.”

The class looked bored. Y/n waved her hands and they all perked up ready to talk about Y/n’s love life and what they were going to do about it, when who else should walk into the room but Bucky Barnes himself. He usually only walked in when the door was open and for some reason, the door was being left open a lot more during the fourth period on B days.

“For fuck’s sake,” Y/n muttered but everyone heard it.

The whole class turned and stared down Bucky.

He looked at them all slightly scared before looking back to Y/n. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

Y/n closed her eyes knowing for a fact, exactly what look her students were giving her right now. She could feel them turn their heads and look at her with a mixture of shock and smugness.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, we’re still on for tomorrow,” she sighed. She really, really wished he would’ve waited until their commute home to confirm their training session tomorrow.

“Mr. Barnes?” He began to tease and she glared at him. “So formal, I thought we were friends Y/n.”

Either forgetting or not caring that she was in front of a classroom full of students, she flipped off the history teacher as he walked out of the room. Mary got up and closed the door. Once it latched everyone started talking at once.

“You didn’t tell us that you were already dating him!” Rachel yelled.

“I’m not dating him, he’s teaching me self-defense,” she said and Andrew let out a whistle, “As a friend!”

“Maybe for now,” Ann smirked.

“Go home,” Y/n grumbled.

“But there’s still 15 minutes left in class,” Rachel pointed out.

Y/n groaned and walked over to her desk. The rest of the time was just the students talking about how long it would take Y/n and Bucky to fall in love.

After the final bell rang, Rachel waited behind and stood in front of Y/n’s desk.

“Can I help you with something?” 

Rachel rocked back and forth on her feet for a moment before shaking her head and walking away.

“Ok well let me know!” Y/n called after her student.

Bucky walked in as Rachel ran out. He looked to Y/n.

“What’s her deal?” He asked.

“No idea,” she answered and grabbed her things to leave. “Also I need you to stop coming into my class during 4th period on b days.”

“Why?”

“Because now you’ve got the students convinced we’re dating.” Bucky made a gagging noise and she continued, “Which is why you need to stop coming in and asking suggestive things like ‘are we still on for tomorrow’.”

“Would dating me really be so bad?” He teased.

Y/n glared at him as they walked down the hall, that still had students standing around some of them watch the two teachers walk down the halls together.

“You just gagged at the notion of dating me, you can’t expect my reaction to be much better.”

Bucky nodded as they walked together. A few feet before they made it out the doors of the school Andrew caught Y/n’s eye and smirked at her. It took all of her self control to not flip him off. Sometimes it felt like the students were more like her younger siblings.

“If your students keep looking at you like that,” Bucky whispered in her ear, “people will start to think you’re sleeping with them.”

Y/n punched him in the arm, lucky for her, it was his right arm. However, he merely laughed at her punch and they continued walking.

~

Y/n was starting to resent the weekends and there was only one person to blame. James Buchanan Barnes. 

Every Saturday and Sunday he would wake her up at the ass crack of dawn only to haul ass over to the compound because he said it was easier to protect her there than in the apartment complex.

Most days he would insist on training her and she would say something along the lines of ‘tough shit sugar tits, I got grading to do’. Ok, fine, she said exactly that, which confused the hell outta him.

But for some reason, Bucky was insistent that go through basic training today. Something Y/n was not in the mood for. But she also wasn’t in the mood to put up a fight about it so she stood in the gym waiting for Bucky to show up.

Instead of Bucky, Captain Sam Wilson quietly ran up from behind her and tried to surprise attack Y/n but she wasn’t having any of it. Y/n easily spun out of the way dodging the attack. She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back and slammed him on the ground.

Sam let out a soft, “Ow.”

Y/n stood up releasing her grip on the captain.

“Bucky, you’re an asshole,” Sam called from the floor not bothering to get up.

Bucky walked over to the sparring mats. “Where’d you learn to fight?” He asked.

Y/n gave him a wicked smile. “From my mom.”

Bucky looked at Sam (who was still on the floor) and Sam looked up at him.

The rest of the day is spent with Sam and Bucky taking turns sparring with Y/n. They were trying to show her new moves but she’d learned all the ones they were showing her already. But she let them mansplain away in hopes of getting home sooner rather than later.

When Bucky finally agreed to take her home, she didn’t bother to say goodbye to him before rushing into her apartment.

She started to make some dinner before crashing, knowing that Bucky would wake her up at an ungodly hour.

Y/n was almost finished with the rice when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked down to find the biggest rat she’d ever seen scurrying across her kitchen floor.

Screaming, she jumped up onto the counter and a nanosecond later Bucky came bursting through the door tearing it off its hinges. He had a gun in his hands ready to fire at the first sign of trouble when he didn’t see any he walked over to the kitchen and stared at Y/n confused.

“There’s a fucking rat!” She gasped.

“You screamed that loud for a rat?” He said tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans.

“Get the rodent out of my fucking apartment, Barnes!” She demanded still standing on the countertop.

“I thought you were dying,” he sneered.

Y/n started frantically pointing at the ground making an inhuman gasping noise. Bucky looked down at the rat making its way across the floor yet again. Without missing a beat Bucky grabbed it with his metal hand.

“Get it out of here,” she pleaded.

“You sure you don’t want to keep it as a pet?” He asked holding it closer to Y/n.

“Bucky,” she whined.

“Fine,” he laughed, “I’ll kill it.”

“No, don’t kill it,” she told him and he gaped at her. “Just release it.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” he muttered but left with the rat still in his hand.

A minute or two later he returned rat-free. Y/n was inspecting her broken door when he came back.

“You broke my door,” she muttered when he came up beside her.

“You screamed bloody murder for a rat,” he grumbled.

Y/n sighed and looked at the door that was laying on her floor. Bucky scratched the back of his neck.

“I mean I probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyway, I guess I can work on my door.”

“No I’ll fix it,” he said, “And you can crash at my place tonight. Before you refuse, it’s not really a choice. I don’t want you falling asleep on the couch when your door is broken.”

Y/n gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Bucky returned the smile. After Y/n ate and got ready for bed, she walked over to Bucky’s place and fell asleep on his couch. When she woke the next morning it was well past 10 am and she was no longer on the couch.

It took her a minute to put it all together but she finally realized that she was in Bucky’s bed, spread out like a starfish. She rolled onto her side to fall back asleep and let his intoxicating scent lull her back to sleep.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge

[the-mangled-readings]

Project AI0.043 (Part 1)

A/N: SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG! And yes it's Short But I been busy between my vacation and coming back to work. Anywho, So I had a question about whether I was going to make the name Anya a code name or what was going to happen since it’s a Five Hargreeves x Reader, it will be temporary, I promise, it will get changed later on.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem! Reader

Story Summary: On the 12th Hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. He got seven of them but never found the last one.

Chapter Summary: The Handler and The Reader began their plans on Five Hargreeves as he joins them in The Commission.

Warnings: Small Flashback from the reader, none much yet.

Word Count: 1503

Tag List: @featuringcone9 @lesbianismybitchname @fiveisadorable

PROLOGUE | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 5.5 | PART 6 | PART 6.5 | PART 7

“Miss, are you sure about this?” A young woman that looked like on her mid 20′s questioned, dressed in black attire, turning to the tall blonde woman who was carrying a black case on her right hand.

“My dear Anya, have we not taught you enough?” She took her black sunglasses off and placed a hand on girl’s right cheek “He’s only going to do our dirty work and after that ... well, you know what to do.” She winked at her, and you just nodded looking down, remembering your past missions. “Now, can you examine the perimeter, we need to make sure that we are one step ahead of him in case he tries anything, you’ll be able to handle it.”

You nodded again and turned to a small building that seemed to be standing still, it was a library, it took you a second and then you spoke softly.

“It seems like he’s speaking to a mannequin, he’s on his mid 50′s, he’s running out of resources, he’s armed and scared, he’s been in this timeline for too long ...” You looked back at the tall woman who was putting her sunglasses back on while smiling. “Excelent” She said mockingly as she retouched her red lipstick and fixing her little hat. “Let’s get going then ... You know your place, stay put, and I will call you when the deal is done.”

The tall well-dressed woman began to walk away. Closing your eyes, you started to remember as you heard the clicking of her heels fade away as she got closer to the building ...

Click ...

“No, Please! Stop! I don’t wanna do this anymore !” You screamed in pain, breathing heavily.

Click ...

“Hold Still Anya, you know that we need to push your boundaries ...” The Doctor looked at you worried, knowing your condition, you were just 7 years old, your body wasn’t that strong for the treatment.

Click ...

“Please, it hurts !” Your eyes began to tear, shaking your head, you tried to get rid of the stinging pain from your temples.

Click ...

“I’m sorry ... It’s for your own good.” The man spoke as he forcefully placed a mouthpiece into you. You closed your eyes and screamed as one of the nurses shakingly handed the Doctor the sticks that he would place again on your sensitive temples, and then you felt the electricity hit your body again.

The ground and the objects around them began to move, the lights begin to flicker, your veins begin to flare up. The nurse and the Doctor ran to the locked door, screaming for help. You opened your eyes and screamed, releasing yourself and your anger around the room which transformed into a fire and everything went dark.

You opened your eyes, shaking your head, you looked around and began to walk behind the building. You could hear them talking, she was just finishing up.

“So ... Do we have an Agreement?” She asked stretching out her hand for Number Five to take. He scoffed and looked back to his mannequin, and back to the woman who was still stretching out her hand, walking towards her he hesitantly took her hand. “Welcome to The Commission.” She smiled coldly.

“Anya will help you get settled, back at headquarters once we get there.” She looked past Five, which caught his attention.

“Anya?” Five questioned, turning around, his eyes went wide at your sudden appearance. You were holding the mannequin he was talking to earlier. “Now, what do you think you’re doing !” He suddenly pulled out his rifle and pointed at you shakingly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Five ... Anya is a very well skilled assassin, far more skilled than you if I may say ...” The woman trailed off. You just stood there looking at Five, from head to toe.

“Please, lower your gun Five ... I am no threat, I was just curious about Delores.” Five slowly lowered his rifle, mouth open. “How do you know her name ?”

The tall woman chuckled at the sudden question. “As I said earlier, she’s far more skilled than you Five.” Then Five shook his head and snapped sarcastically. “Or maybe she was spying on me earlier when I was talking to her ...” You began to walk towards him, lifting Delores in the air, moving your right hand, placing her right in front of Five. “Or maybe I’m special, just like you.” Letting go of Delores he quickly caught her.

“You have powers too ...” You smiled at him.

Back in Headquarters, everybody stopped and stepped aside from the three of you. Five was walking behind you and the woman, he looked angry and terrified, knowing that these people were the cause of the apocalypse, he got a grip of his bag, swaying Delores on his back as he walked. The three of you came to a stopping point, making the woman turn to the two of you and smiled.

“Well, Anya, he’s all yours. Five, I will be looking forward to your work.” She winked at him and walked away into a door closing behind her, leaving the two of you alone. “Very well, now, if you could follow me to your room Mr. Hargreeves.” You began to walk in the opposite direction. 

“I haven’t heard that last name in a long time ...” He whispered annoyed. You turned to frown your eyebrows to him, looking at him, you began to feel his pain, slowly walking towards him, you tried to reach for his hand. “It must be hard ...” Then it all hit you, his anger, sadness, regret. “Being by yourself all this time, without your siblings ...” He pulled his hand away from you. “I wasn’t by myself ... I had Delores with me.” You looked behind him, seeing the old faded mannequin, trying to ignore the fact that he even considered it a person. “Yeah, well, I guess we all have our coping ways ...” You turned trailing off. “What do you even know, you haven’t been by yourself for --” He snapped but suddenly stopped, floating frozen in mid-air, dropping his bag along with his mannequin. You had your right hand tight in a fist, your veins were slightly glowing.

“Yeah, well I have been tortured and manipulated since I was a kid ... and yet, I still have to act like nothing happened.” Letting go our your first, he was about to fall into the ground when you lifted your hand capturing him just in time, regaining him his balance back you lowered your hand, he stood there now impressed of your abilities. “Look, I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean it, it’s just that I’m not really good with people, as you can tell.” You chuckled nervously looking down at the floor. “Yeah, I can see that ...” He looked at you as he lifted his belongings.

“Everybody in here is either scared or mad at me, I have a bad reputation since I was brought here, they think I don’t remember but since I can read their minds and feel their emotions ... well.” You just shrugged your shoulders, Five nodded, understanding your situation. Both of you began to walk down the hallway until the both of you came to a stop.

“So, who is she?” Five asked as he looked around his new room, it was small but cozy. “She’s The Handler, she’s also the one that brought me here ... She’s basically like my mother, in her own ways of course, and she can be ... quite difficult at times, so you have to be careful around her, what you say or do.”

“I can tell, and thank you for the tip.” Five looked at you as you walked around the small room. “I also didn’t have the best ... childhood neither father or life so --”

“I know, you and your siblings were quite famous back in the days, now they all just went on their separate ways.”

Five smiled at the comment, remembering the small fun times he had with his siblings before traveling through time. “Yeah, well ... it’s not like we had another choice, we were practically dragged into all that.” He took a seat by the bed, placing his bag into the floor, and laying Delores into the bed.

“Well, you kinda have one now ...” You looked at him.

“There’s a way to stop the Apocalypse, I can help you, but you’re gonna have to do everything as I say ... Okay ?” He heard your voice inside his head as you started to walk to the door. “Do you mean it ?” He looked at you, his eyes filled with hope. “Yes ... but it will be our secret.” You winked at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning Mr. Hargreeves.” Opening the door you turned to him, just to find him smiling widely. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning ... Anya.”

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy fanfic #Umbrella academy fanfiction #umbrella academy x reader #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fanfic #five hargreeves fanfiction

[eadanga]

A Summer Romance Part 6

Summary: Liam is a crowned prince bored with his life at the palace but what happens when he falls for an American tourist?

Pairing: LiamxMC

MC got up the next day to a knocking on the door she opens it and sees Maxwell grinning “Hi little blossom! Ready for the boat race today?”

“Yeah” She closes the door and follows him down the hall “So how does this work? Are we judging or?”

“No you’ll be racing”

“I will? But I know nothing about boats”

“Don’t worry we got a crew ready and waiting for you”

“Well ok”

They head out and arrive at the marina Maxwell smirks “I think I’ll go check on the boat”

“Huh?” He runs off leaving MC with a confused look on her face

“Hi MC”

MC jumps and turns around “Liam you need to stop doing that”

He chuckles “Apologies” He smiles “You look lovely”

“Thanks I decided to look my best for the race”

“Yeah I wish I didn’t have to be here boats aren’t my thing”

“Really? Haven’t you been on boats all your life?”

“Doesn’t make it any better I’ve tried to get out of it but I can’t”

MC places a hand on his shoulder “Well you won’t be riding on the boat”

“I’m glad for that”

****

Liam grits his teeth as he sees his father step up to the podium MC looks at him “You ok?”

“Yeah” He clenches his jaw as he thinks back to the conversation he had with his father

Liam enters the study “You wanted to see me”

“Yeah Liam I think I know who the perfect suitor for you would be. Lady Madeline seems like the best choice

“No father”

“Ok what about Duchess Olivia? I mean the childhood story between you two would really be good press”

“No father”

Constantine lets out a frustrated sigh “Come on Liam I’m trying to help here”

“You wanna help? Then don’t interfere this is my choice got it?”

“I am trying to choose the most suitable queen. Don’t tell me it’s the Beaumont’s girl?” Constantine scoffs “Doesn’t look like she knows anything. How can she rule? She’s gonna drive this country in the ground”

“Don’t insult her father!”

“Why are you so quick to defend her? What’s your connection with her?”

“That’s none of your business and stay out of this I’ll pick my own queen. Good day!” Liam storms off slamming the door behind him.

Liam watches as Constantine clears his throat and speaks “Good afternoon and welcome to the races! I hope you all have a wonderful race now racers get to your boats”

****

MC turns to him “Well I better get going”

Liam smiles and kisses her on the cheek “Good luck”

MC blushes and heads to the boat where Drake and Maxwell are waiting for her “Hi MC!”

“Hey guys where’s the crew?”

“We are the crew the was a little mix up”

MC sighs “Well we’ll make it work”

“That’s the spirit!” Maxwell grins “Ready to set sail Captain Drake?”

“Don’t call me that just get everything in order”

“Aye aye captain!”

MC giggles as Drake rolls his eyes he hands her a rope “Here tie this down make sure it’s nice and tight”

“Right” MC ties the knot tightly then gets ready to start the race.

The starting gun goes off and the boats take off MC watches Olivia speed ahead then she smirks “See you at the finish line!”

MC rolls her eyes “That girl is so annoying”

“Tell me about it but don’t work we can win this!”

They make it to the buoy and then turn as fast as they can. They use the sail to catch the wind and race forward reaching the finish line

MC claps “We did it!”

“Woohoo group hug!” Maxwell pulls them both into a group hug as Drake groans

“Are we done now?”

Maxwell releases them as MC laughs “Come on Drake hugs are nice”

“Not all the time”

Hana skips over to them “You guys did great are you ready for the beach party?”

“Another party? You guys seem to party a lot”

Maxwell grins “That’s the life. Now let’s head out and party!”

MC grins and changes into a swimsuit before heading over to the beach party. The party was in full swing MC heads over to wear the food was being served “Mmmm this smells delicious”

“It does I’ve never had something like this before”

“You mean sloppy joes?” MC grins and hands her a spoon “Well there’s no time like the present”

Hana smiles and takes a bite she grins “This is really good”

“Told you”

****

Liam stood with Regina and a friend of hers as they chatted. He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation as his eyes were on someone else. He smiles as he saw Hana and MC chatting together

“…So we had the party elsewhere don’t you remember Liam?”

“Of course” He saw Hana leave and MC standing by herself “Would you two excuse me?”

Liam headed towards MC grabbing a drink. He saw Olivia out of the corner of his eye blowing kisses at him but he ignored her. As soon as MC turned around he held out the drink “A drink for you my lady”

MC giggles as she takes the drink “Why thank you your highness”

Liam chuckles as he looks her up and down “You look amazing it that bikini”

“Thanks I just bought it”

Lim smirks And I’ll bet you’ll look even better with off He clears his throat “I would like to take you somewhere”

“Oh?”

“Yes” He sets the drink down and takes her hand “Follow me”

****

Liam leads her up the rocks and through the trees “Liam are you ever gonna tell me where we’re going”

“But that would ruin the surprise”

“Of course but are we almost there?”

“Yes just right behind these vines” Liam pulls back the vines and reveals a beautiful waterfall

MC smiles “This is beautiful Liam”

“I’m glad you like it I used to come here all the time”

MC smirks “So is this your secret date spot?”

Liam chuckles “I wish I had time for that but no just enjoyed hanging out here and play”

“Well it’s amazing”

“Thanks come lets get to the top” They climb up the cliff face and Liam takes her hand “Ready to jump?” MC nods “1…2…3!” They jump and plunge into the water. They swim up to the surface laughing.

“Oh that was so much fun Liam”

“Yeah come let’s sit on the rocks” They sit on the rocks laying their feet in the water “I’m glad I’m I shared this place with you”

“Me too”

“I know we have all the stress of court and everything” Liam cups her cheek “But I’m glad for moments like this” He kisses her deeply and wraps his arms around her pulling her closer

MC moans as she runs her fingers through his hair “Liam…”

“Shhh” He kisses her deeply his lips move down her neck. His hands move up and down her sides. Then he pulls back breathing heavily “Sorry I got a little carried away”

“It’s ok”

He cups her cheeks “MC I…” He trails off

“What is it?”

He shakes his head “Never mind” He smiles and takes her hand “Let’s head back”

He leads her back to the beach where he finds his father waiting for him “Where were you? You kept some important people waiting”

“I should leave you two alone” She walks off

“I wasn’t far I was just at the falls”

“With her? Did she take you there? What kind of bad influence has she become on you?!”

“She is not a bad influence you just don’t know her like I do” He storms past his father

“Where are you going?!”

“A place called my bed goodnight!”

****

MC quickly changes and sits in her bed and pulls out her laptop waiting for the video call to connect.

“Hi sweetie”

“Hi mom”

“How is Cordonia?”

“It’s great I’m gonna have to stay here longer than I thought”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“No nothing’s wrong long story short I met this guy who’s a prince”

“You met someone? And they’re royalty?!” Her mom grins “When’s the wedding?!”

“Mom! Stop it!” Her mom laughs “I’ve just been getting to know him and he invited me to stay for the social season”

“That’s amazing! I hope the other people there haven’t been giving you problems because you are not a noble”

“Nobody knows Liam has been helping me keep it on the wraps”

“Liam?” Her mom raises an eyebrow in amusement

“That’s the name of the prince”

“What does he look like? Is he there? Can I talk to him?”

“Mom! And no he’s not here”

“Oh ok but I wanna meet him”

MC rolls her eyes “How’s Grace?”

“Great she’s been asking about you I’ll get her”

A girl with a bright smile and bright blue eyes come on the screen “Hi Aunty MC!”

“Hey bunny rabbit how are you?”

“Good I miss you are you gonna come back soon?”

“Trip is gonna be a little longer than I thought”

“But…” MC sees tears well in her eyes “I miss you”

“Don’t cry sweetie” She smiles “I miss you too but I will be back and then we can play a lot”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely”

“Yay!” She claps her hands making MC laugh “We gonna have fun!”

“Alright time for you to go to bed”

“But andma I wanna talk to Aunty MC more”

“You can talk to her tomorrow it’s time for bed”

“Ok bye Aunty MC”

“Bye bunny rabbit”

“Talk tomorrow sweetie?”

“Sure mom bye”

MC closes her laptop and pulls out her phone looking at a picture of her and Grace she smiles and heads to bed.

Tags: @annekebbphotography @the-soot-sprite @cora-nova @hopefulmoonobject @indiacater @lodberg @romanticatheart-posts @mfackenthal @drakesensworld @custaroonie

#king liam #the royal romance #the royal heir #Royal Romance #liam x mc #trr liam #choices #choices fanfiction

[bucky-is-a-hero-fightme]

Royals (4/8)

ROYALS MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Bucky/Reader

Universe: Mobsters!1940′s!AU

Timeline: Early 1940′s, but I’m gonna gloss over the war, I’m sorry, I just can’t see a Steve that wouldn’t want to join the fight, so…I’m glossing over it.

Word Count:  5000 approx.

Summary: When someone from your past you weren't expecting comes back, too many of the Siren’s words become lies, but so do Y/N’s

Warnings: Mentions of violence and misogyny if you squint, mentions of drinking (not alcohol abuse). Lemme know if there’s anything else you would like tagged

A/N: Okay, after a long break I’m back, but I can’t promise when or if I will come back. I know I write for myself, but I fell out of love with Marvel a lil bit and I feel a little alone lately when I post my writing. Idk, also, the summary sucks, i’m sorry. I’m sorry for taking so long to upload.

Would love hearing from you, and thank you for reading.

Taglist (If you wanna be added or removed, lemme know): @amandamartinez3568 @champagnejoker @aunty-peggy @itsbuckysworld @mooniightbucky @whimsicalatbest @catvader1o1

You open the door after sprinting clumsily to it, your free hand still attaching the end of your earring in place.

A sharply dressed man is waiting on the other side. He smiles your way politely,

“Miss Carter is waiting for you, ma’am.”

You tell him it will only take a few moments, going back to the guest room in your apartment you took as a temporary closet and fetching your shoes. On your way out, the phone starts ringing, though, so you make another stop.

“Good morning.” You greet cautiously, well aware your apartment’s number is not known publicly.

“Hello, sweetcheeks.”

Even through the line, even despite the distance, a part of you hardens, and you straighten your back and make sure to keep your emotions out of your expression and your tone.

“Brock.”

“Miss me?” He drawls out, a hint of the influence of alcohol in his voice, but not enough for you to think you can thread without care.

“You know Manhattan will always be my home.” You answer instead, ensuring you sweeten your tone even as you evade his question.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you seemed pretty at home running with Barnes’ people these last few weeks.” He states simply, making ice run down your spine.

“You have people on Brooklyn?” You ask before you can think twice about it, giving away the truth behind his accusations and giving him an opening to think that you have anything to hide.

Which you don’t. A smarter, more battle-worn part of you wishes you did, wishes you had spent your time gathering information about Bucky’s intentions, about the real power of his people in Brooklyn, about how much of that power could translate into a war with Manhattan.

A colder part of you, a part of you that sings men to their dooms, wishes you would move again to try and seduce Bucky back into compliance, wishes you could ignore the painful beat of your heart after the night you spent together and try and get him on your sheets, if not your side.

You have ignored those parts of you, though. You have ignored what makes you the Siren and focused on getting to know what makes you Y/N again.

Lunch dates with Peggy and Steve, visits to the diner of your teenage years. You get to know the soldiers forged in the wake of your departure, they try to learn to trust the Siren that danced with their sworn, although secret, enemy.

Brock doesn’t ask why you got so defensive though, and instead laughs mockingly.

“I made it clear you are not indispensable, baby.”

“And here I thought you loved me.” You state dryly in response, sitting down on the armrest of your couch.

“And here I thought you were on my side.” He spites back, startling you at the hidden rage in his voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The hiss in your voice is not lost to either of you, but this is the most controlled you can muster. The words ‘I was never on your side’ try clawing their way out of your heart, but you don’t let them.

Not yet. Not until your empire is yours again, and you hold the barrel of your father’s gun against his head.

“If you weren’t so busy rolling around with Barnes, sweetcheeks, you would be aware I know everything you do in that city of his.”

Clenching your jaw so tight you fear for the state of your teeth after this, you force the seductive yet emotionless mask of the Siren back in place.

Your voice is a purr when you state, “You knew when you hired me what I am willing to do for the Bratva.”

The threat, the controlled power Brock Rumlow holds in his clenched fist is not lost on you as he dangles his temporary superiority over your head when he says, “I hope that doesn’t include betraying us, Siren.”

But your response is measured, calculated. A risk you are willing to take, because the day you swear your allegiance to Brock, however fake it would be, is the day you give away the last piece of resistance your family has left.

“You haven’t given me a reason to.”

Oh, but he has, and he knows it very well.

A few moments of silence, and you hear the faint sound of ice clinking on a glass as Brock presumably drains the rest of his drink.

“I want reports on my desk come tomorrow morning, then.” He orders simply.

“Reports of what?”

“Of whatever you got Barnes to confide you with, of course,” Brock replies, “Am I to assume you have spent time with him for something other than power, girl?”

“Because I love him.” You reply easily, but the boy forced be a man in front of you scoffs, dismissing your answer.

“He can’t offer you what I can,” He drawls out, smirk on his lips. “Nothing but a shuk-”

Your hand makes contact with his cheek before the word is done leaving his lips, a faint trail of blood left behind on his cheekbone from the scratch of your mother’s ring.

“Bucky is twice the man you are, Brock.” You spit back, turning your back to him and readying your heart to harden in order to handle the party still happening outside the room.

He grabs your forearm before you can move far, though, and forces you to stay still. Although, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around to face him.

“You won’t want to do that again, sweetcheeks.”

“You won’t want me against you, Rumlow. I suggest you get your hand off me.” You spit back, and after a second, he releases you. His words make a shiver run down your spine as they follow you out of the room:

“I’ll have you begging for scraps, Y/N. Mark my words.”

“Of course not.” You answer through the phone, and you hear rustling on the other side, as if Brock is getting comfortable.

“Then you better get working on those reports, sugar.”

The door to your apartment opens slightly, forcing you to hide a wince when you see Peggy peeking through and finding you on the couch.

Keeping your eyes on hers, and begging whoever is willing to listen that she can forgive you for this, you concede,

“It will be done.”

____

 You are walking down the street towards some diner with Peggy and Steve when a shriek of your name puts you all three in high alert.

You have barely a second o recognize the schoolgirl running towards you is not a threat before she is wrapping her arms around your midcriff, brown hair mussed against your face and fast-paced babbles reaching your ears.

"I heard the rumors you were back, but you know, people gossip about-..."She interrupts herself, seemingly catching another train of thought and deciding to run with it, "But then I saw Bucky when he took me out for lunch and I knew, ya' know? My brother is only that miserable or happy when it comes to you and-..."

"Rebecca!?" You finally gasp, taking her in. Long gone is the eight year old child, and now she stands in front of you in highschool outfit and heeled shoes.

"Well, duh," One of her friends call out to her, and she turns to them before looking back at you, "Can we catch up? Maybe come to a family dinner? For old times sake?"

You want to say no, you want to sever ties and run back to your family’s estate, you want to start over, you want to run.

But that is not what is useful, you remind yourself. That is not what the Siren needs, that is not what you must. What you want cowers under the weight of the responsibility of being the head of your family.

You learned that over eight years ago.

You agree with vacant eyes and plastic smile, trying to ignore the tug at your heart when the girl hugs you tightly and whispers how she is glad you are back before scurrying off to her friends.

A family dinner, that is all there is, you tell yourself. A few Captains, more than enough Bratov to keep the Captains on edge; a few mandatory ceremonies during the night, but just enough to keep Bucky from noticing you. You will get some intel, forward some useless bits of it to Brock and keep him off your back.

It has to be this way.

“It has to be this way.” Your mother admits, her eyes on yours when a lesser woman would have lowered her gaze.

You swallow back your tears, your anger, your pain.

The youngest of the Rumlow’s offers you his hand, and you ignore the way your friends, the people you grew up with, watch you take it with the eyes of someone that doesn’t know you at all.

You try to ignore your childish heart breaking for the boy with grey eyes and charming smile, that watches dejectedly as another man leads you on the dance floor.

You walk the plank, and the sailors bury you at sea.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Steve asks, making you jump at his comforting touch on your shoulder. You nod swiftly, not even trying to make eye contact as you propose silently the three of you keep walking.

Peggy calls you back, though,

“That girl really cares for you.”

“I know, Peg.”

“You better not…”

“Not what?” You interrupt, turning to her with a cold stare. Peggy doesn’t back down, though, and raises her chin as she finishes,

“Disappoint her again.”

Giving in, you sigh, and pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger, you say,

“You know Bucky doesn’t want me there, Peggy.”

“Well, it ain’t just his home,” Steve states simply, arm around your shoulders and a gentle squeeze in his hug before continuing, “It’ll be fun. We’ll pick you up, be with you the whole night, and get blind drunk with ya’ if you want.”

“You can’t get drunk, Steven.” His fiancé mutters, rolling her eyes.

“You are right, doll. But ya’ can, and it is fun as all hell to watch.” Steve teases back, easy smile on his lips as he watches her give a reluctant smile his way.

Trying to ignore the pang of nostalgia, the pang of pain and jealousy and regret, you shake off his arm gently and agree to the diner with a somewhat sincere smile.

___

Once Peggy and Steve drop you off in your family’s estate, you force yourself to gain back the control running into Rebecca took away from you. The girl’s warmth and innocence, the obvious way she was so different from the eight-year-old you left behind but also so much like her, like the girl that teased her brother and called him ‘sunbeam’ because that was in her opinion his expression when someone mentioned you; she rattled you to the core, made you realize how much of who you remain to be is jagged pieces, masks and moves in the Game.

You take a shower, and face your bare face in the mirror. Without the make-up, with the tiredness and stress of the last few weeks clear on your face, without the edge of the Siren or the nostalgic joy of the girl that came back from the depths of the cold sea; you can’t help but see a certain emptiness.

Or maybe emptiness isn’t the right word. Maybe something like hesitance, like a space in between life and death, where you don’t exist on one plane or the other.

You wonder if it is a destiny somehow worse than death.

A chorus, a mix of angry spats, of short acknowledgements, of awed greetings greet your ears.

Nayada.

Siren.

And she is called forth, with the rage of a thousand women buried at sea; so you take a deep breath, and ready yourself for the diner at the Barnes’ estate.

You sharpen your claws,

“Green does look good on ya’, doll.” Bucky mutters, leaning back on his elbows as he sits on the bed, eyes following the trail of your stockings as they go back up your thighs.

You smile, “I’ll keep it in mind, Barnes.”

The dark green fabric falls over your curves like satin. You have to avoid your own eyes in the mirror, but you can see the allure of the Siren in the way your body moves.

And you bare your teeth,

The Carter Matriarch looks you up and down, a smirk growing on her worn face as she reaches your eyes with her own.

“You have fire within you, girl.” She states softly, but you cannot miss the steel underneath, the sheer strength and courage. It is with that same strength that she takes your chin between her fingers and orders, “Do not ever let them extinguish it.”

The lipstick paints your lips with the taint of the blood the words coming from them have had spilled. You still smile, and remind yourself of the stain of your father’s blood on your mother’s skin to relieve the guilt.

__

Something changes in Peggy’s open expression when she sees you take a seat next to her on the car, and you throw her an inquisitive glace, but she says nothing, signaling for the driver to speed off into Brooklyn’s night.

“You look good, Peg.” You mutter, shifting uncomfortably in your place.

The British woman turns to you for a second, then focuses her attention on the streets passing by you.

“You look like the Siren.”

You bit your tongue, and swallow your words, but they are still branded over your heart.

The Siren is what I have to be.

__

Your car moves expertly through Brooklyn’s streets, but you pay no mind to it, your mind focused on the dinner ahead of you.

Nerves churn at your stomach, tremors take over your hands, as you try and secure in place the mask of the Princess of Brooklyn, of the Siren, of the Bratva Captain, of the Matriarch bereft of her title.

You walk down the steps, the thousands of times practiced movements not swayed by the weakness in your muscles, the apprehension in your heart.

You smile despite the cold hate in their eyes, because it’s what they told you to. You swallow the bitter disgust as men older than your own father leer at you like a prize, because it’s what you are supposed to do.

But you are your mother’s daughter. So you take in their posture and their expression, because they are too arrogant to consider masking their weakness in front of a girl. And you watch the room for evidence of the words your mother placed in the right ears, because no action is taken within the Bratva without the Game.

A couple of hours later, sitting on one of the corners of your father’s ballroom, you have to clench your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, you have to close your eyes tightly to keep the tears at bay.

A cold glass is pressed into your hand, and you open your eyes to watch as your mother takes a seat next to you, nursing a glass of scotch just like the one she set in front of you.

She motions to your glass with her head.

“Bottoms up,” She advises, “You will need it.”

You search her eyes desperately, sure yours are as full of fear as they can be.

“I can’t do this, mom.”

She just smiles, something cold and dead in her eyes as she states, “You can, and you will.”

The car turns into a too-familiar street, stops in front of a too-familiar driveway. A thousand memories flash before your eyes, and you can only follow Peggy numbly as she gets out of the car.

Steve’s head peeks from the wide-open front door, a big smile settling on his lips as he spots Peggy’s car.

“Hi, baby.” He greets softly, an arm wrapping itself around her with ease. He turns to you and greets you with more kindness than you deserve.

“Y/N!” Rebecca yells, and you have barely a second before the lithe brunette has her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Your lips curve into a smile without you meaning for them too, but you take a step back and regard the teen.

“Rebecca, you told me…”

“Yeah, mom sets up family dinners every week, you know that!” She scoffs, taking your hand with ease and tugging you into the house. Panic grips your heart.

Winifred’s reluctant smile as Bucky presses a kiss on her cheek. Rebecca’s loud complaints of his brother’s ‘sunbeam’ face. Steve’s drawings managing to find a home in every flat surface of the house.

The lovingly chaotic family dinners the Barnes’ household submitted itself to, even if only to share a piece of old bread.

You catch Peggy’s confused stare, and watch in real time as she realizes the kind of diner you were agreeing to join.

Her smile turns devious, “Hurry, Y/N. Winnie has been dying to see you.”

Rebecca tugs harder, and you switch your panicked eyes between her and Steve.

Your tone is final and terrified as you squeak, “She will kill me.”

“You are a Bratva Captain.”

“I am her baby boy’s ex, Margaret.” You reply with a hiss, prompting a snort to leave Peggy’s lips, her smiling face turning to hide in Steve’s chest as he regards you with a mix of guilt and amusement.

Apparently, Bucky is running late on some Bratva business, and the household busies itself arranging the dining room and porch for dinner and the aftermath outside on the cool Brooklyn night. You wish you didn’t hold that routine to heart, you wish it wasn’t something you missed dearly.

“She knows who I am, doesn’t she?” You ask, unconsciously resisting Bucky’s pull as he guides you to his house by the hand.

“She knows you’re my girl, yeah.” He answers, a small, proud smile curving his lips upwards. And for a moment, witnessing the light behind his eyes that ahs been there since the moment you both decided whatever was going on between you deserved a name and a promise, you forget your fear of walking through the door of the Barnes’ household.

“Can I help?” You ask meekly, standing near the kitchen but never entering it. Not eight years, not eighty, could erase from your head Winifred’s threats of bodily and mental harm upon those that enter her kitchen while she is cooking.

The woman scoffs, and doesn’t turn your way.

Rebecca rolls her eyes from where she is sitting on the island counter, peeling potatoes carefully, “Mom.”

Her mother heaves a sigh, and turns to face you for the first time since she regarded you with hatred as you walked through her front door. Her silver eyes take in your attire, going up and down your body in a clinical-like scrutiny.

“Stevie here says he trusts you.” She states.

“Not yet. I did say I love her.” He corrects from his place on the bench on the front porch, the open window giving him access to the conversation.

“Many have made that mistake.” Winifred hisses, but disregards whatever she was planning on saying next, and shoves some cutlery in your hands. “Set the table, girl.”

You say nothing more, and busy yourself in the dining room. There has been an iron grip on your stomach and heart ever since your car pulled up in the familiar driveway. You expected a Bratva dinner, full of poisoned smiles and siren songs.

You didn’t expect to be back in the house where some of your happiest memories were made.

You grumble to yourself as you search through the tablecloths stored in the lower cabinet of Winnie’s dinning room.

Too dark the green to match the napkins. The next one is too bright. The other one is a nice shade of yellow, but it wouldn’t match the curtains, even if it would the palette of the napkins.

“Need any help?” Bucky asks from the doorway behind you, startling you.

“Yes! Get in here!” You whisper, motioning wildly with your hand. “I can’t find a tablecloth.”

Bucky’s grey-blue eyes move carefully and slowly from your face to the armful of linens you hold in your hands. When his gaze returns to you, you catch a glimpse of mischief, even if he tries to hold back his smile for your sake.

“Doll…Imma need ya’ to talk me through this one.”

Gritting your teeth, you hiss, “They don’t match.”

“The tablecloths.”

“Yes.”

“With the…table?”

“The napkins, Buck!” You sigh, nervous hands soothing over non-existent wrinkles in the folded linens. “I want Winnie to like me, and I’m messing this up already.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” He says, hands folding over yours and soothing the nervousness in your system, if only for a second. “My Ma’ is a hard cookie to crack, but she likes ya’, alright?”

“How do you know that?”

“She only lets people she likes stay for dinner,” Bucky presses a kiss on your hair, and helps you to your feet, taking the linens from your hands as he does so. “C’mon, I’ll help you with the table.”

Shaking your head, you focus on the task at hand, ignoring how the ghost of the past guides you through the steps of readying the dinning room for the Barnes’ family dinner.

Suddenly the conversations in the other room end swiftly, and the hairs in the back of your neck stand stiffly to attention.

You are facing the small cabinet where you were tidying and decorating with a small tablecloth to match with the one in the dinner table, and you keep your back to the entrance as you hear Bucky’s fast and determined footsteps approaching the room.

“What are you doing here?” His words have never sounded more like a snarl than now. Understandable, though. The one thing he would do anything to protect, and you are standing in their dining room.

“Rebecca invited me over.” You reply without missing a beat, your back still to him as you straighten the tablecloth a few times before taking a deep breath.

Bucky doesn’t answer for a few beats, and the silence rings in your ears, despite the fact that somewhere in the back of your head you recognize Steve teasing Peggy about helping Winifred in the kitchen, to which the Barnes’ matriarch responds with a playful grumble of how not even Boulestin could teach that girl to cook.

Problem is, you can’t tell if it’s just a memory or if it is happening right now.

And you are not sure you want the answer.

You turn around, and the cold anger, the betrayal, swimming in Bucky’s grey eyes make something within you break.

Resting your hands on the table between you, you force a sigh.

“If I knew…I wouldn’t have-…” You let out a frustrated breath, “I was here on business, Bu-…Barnes.”

“Was?” He questions, his eyes betraying that something in him gives up the fight at the same time as you.

You shrug in response, “This…family has a way of growing on me.”

A shadow of what once would have been a smile crosses his lips, but his eyes are still distant, his voice guarded when he motions with his head to the backyard.

“Walk with me, Y/N.”

You straighten your back and lead the way out of the house.

You stifle a giggle against Bucky’s lips as he lifts you up against the dining room wall, ignoring your whispered protests.

You can taste the satisfied smile on his lips as you melt into the kiss, bringing your arms up around him and angling your head to deepen the embrace.

“Girl, woul-…James Buchanan!” Winifred bellows, making Bucky step away from you with a sheepish smile directed at his mother. She narrows her eyes, not giving in to his pleading eyes. “I swear, I raised barn animals.”

You laugh quietly at her exasperated words, but freeze when she sets her eyes on you.

“Y/N, you were supposed to be better than this, girl.”

You offer her a shrug, “Your son is very convincing, ma’am.”

Finally, a small smile cracks Winifred’s façade, and she rolls her eyes, ushering you two out of the room with grumbled words.

“Fine, we’ll take a walk before dinner.” Bucky agrees, arm wrapping around your waist with ease.

“Oh, no you won’t!” His mother is quick to respond. “You will be staying here and tidying up, and you Y/N, help me in the kitchen.”

The woman leads you with a hand on your back, more motherly than you have felt in your own home, and points to some uncooked yams sitting in the counter.

You set to washing and peeling them, while Winnie bussies herself on the slow cooker.

“My boy cares about you, Y/N,” She states, a threat and a compliment all mixed in her blunt statement. With a deep breath she continues, “By the way he talked about ya’, I would think you hung the moon and the stars. Then he brought me to meet ya a few months ago, and I noticed the damn fool looks at you like you do.”

You hide your smile as you duck your head, busying yourself with the dinner. You could swear a smile curves Winnie’s lips upwards as she continues too.

You follow his guide to the small backyard, and sit next to Bucky on the wooden stairs that end the porch. Silence spreads over the air, a mix of calming and unnerving, like the breeze flowing around a cliff.

There’s something within you keeping you from being the one to break the silence, and you keep your gaze to the small backyard, trying to discern between memories, what if’s, and the cruel reality.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Bucky’s broad shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath.

“Why are you here? Really.”

Your answer is automatic, rehearsed, and it burns your tongue like acid as it comes out, “My family sti-…”

“The real reason.”

Breathing out a bitter laugh, you lean to the side, resting your back on the railing and facing the profile of Brooklyn’s Captain as you answer, with whatever truth you can manage,

“I spent so long lying to…everyone. Brock, Natasha, their guests, their enemies. There was always a new mask to be worn, a new lie to be told and I…I got tired of it.

Bucky turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time in what feels like forever. So close to him to those grey-blue eyes that haunted you for eight years, you cannot help feeling closer to the girl you were, to the life you had, to the memories you made.

Your eyes remain locked on his, facing with your own uncertainty and pain the distrust and betrayal in his.

“I suppose…when you lie for so long about who you are, you forget to tell yourself the truth.” You finish in a breath, shrugging, and forcing your gaze back to the space ahead of you, and away from him.

Maybe because it is easier not to. Maybe because the sharp pain of the lie is better than the slow poison of the truth.

It takes a while before any of you speaks again, but the silence somehow feels less like an absence and more like the very real and notable presence of your past selves, like forgotten songs being brought back if only for a second, if only to remind you of what you had, of what you lost, of what you want.

“Y/N,” He starts, making you wonder for a second why it feels like this is the first time he has said your name since…since before. You turn to face Bucky, and his eyes find yours without pause, searching and searching and searching. “I need to know I can trust you.”

“We both know you don’t. And you won’t, no matter what I say.” You reply with ease, no trace of accusation in your tone, no anger, no resentment. Truth tastes your lips, for the first time in a while, and it unsettles you.

He huffs, running a hand through his hair in a gesture you remember with fondness. Knowing he is trying to gather his thoughts, you stay in silence, enjoying the simple sounds of your city at night.

“I have people I need to protect, doll.” He explains swiftly, the endearment nothing more than a compulsion, a result of the blurred lines of past and present in the never-ending night of Brooklyn.

You find his eyes when you answer, “So do I, Bucky.”

Bucky regards you for a few seconds, his eyes searching your own; and you cannot help but notice how close he is, and how you can notice the slight tinge of red in the tip of his angular nose at the cold of the night.

Finally, he takes a deep breath,

“Are you working with Rumlow, Princess?”

You find his steely eyes with ease, and for a second too long, you want to close your eyes and move with the liberating melody of having truthful words leave your lips, but the woman made out of the Princess forces your strings and makes you dance to a different song.

“No, I am not.”

___

I know, it sucks, I’m sorry. I just had to get back to it, and yeah, sorry.

Hope you stayed till the end, thank you for reading, please leave some feedback. Love ya.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mobster!bucky x reader #mobster au #mobster!bucky

[hail-the-supreme-leader-kylo-ren]

EPISODE IX PREDICTIONS, HOPES, & DISCUSSION

This is a deep dive into the thoughts and questions I’ve been accumulating in regards to what might happen in Episode IX. (Sorry, it’s quite a long post).

My character predictions:

KYLO/BEN: My beautiful boy Ben is going to get redemption first and foremost. FACT. I’m so excited to see how it will go down though, so many possibilities. What’s going to be that final catalyst for Ben to finally stop resisting the Light? When we left Kylo/Ben in TLJ he had gained all the power he once sought, and yet he was utterly miserable. But, importantly Luke showing up on Crait offered Kylo that critical cathartic release he needs for the next step in his redemption journey. Looking back, TFA started with Kylo ordering a village massacre, and finished with him killing his father. We see progress in TLJ, as the act of committing patricide has been eating Kylo/Ben alive with regret and guilt, he then later cannot kill his mother, and instead he kills his tormentor, Snoke, to save Rey. So following this pattern of reversal, I predict in IX he’ll selflessly save a large group of people (the direct opposite of the original village massacre). It’s going to be so interesting to see how will he go with being The Supreme Leader of The First Order, as the evidence shows his ideology doesn’t really align with the Order. I feel like he’ll simply keep using The First Order for the sole purpose of destroying his mother’s Resistance, in a fruitless attempt to ‘kill his past’. Ultimately though, this story is about achieving balance between the Light and the Dark, not just in the force or the galaxy but also in oneself. Ben will need to accept the Light and the Dark sides in himself, and will have to come to this conclusion completely via his own initiative. Han (via Leia’s push), Luke, and Rey have all tried to convince him to the Light so far, to no avail.

REY: Strong Rey has been through a hell of a lot with Kylo/Ben in both films, and Luke in TLJ. She’s had to face her deepest fear that she’s ‘nobody’ and that her parents ‘aren’t coming back for her’. But despite this she has actually found belonging and empowerment along the way. Her self identity is in fact stronger than ever now (while Kylo/Ben is the opposite, he’s still having an identity crisis). I predict that in IX, Rey will be just as fearless and resilient as ever, but also more mature, less naive. Her relationship with the Resistance is interesting because in TFA Finn was lying to her about him belonging to the Resistance, so she was never actively apart of it, and then she was kidnapped by Kylo. Similarly, she sought Luke out for Leia (and the Resistance) in TLJ, but this was mostly a personal journey she undertook. She pursued turning Kylo/Ben to the Light, ‘for the Resistance’s sake’, but it was ultimately for her own sake. So I think that she might not completely feel like she belongs in the Resistance. It’s a sure thing, that she’ll still try to help them out how she can, but I predict it’ll once again be on her own ‘force’ related solo mission (because this fits her film narrative formula). This may be how she crosses paths with Kylo again? Also related to the Resistance, I have this gut feeling that she may clash heads with Poe over his decision making (IDK why, I just do). In terms of other predictions, it seems to be a given that she’ll repair the legacy Skywalker lightsaber, this is what Rey has done her whole life, salvage and repair. In regards to Ben, she’s learnt her lesson, and I truly believe she hasn’t given up on him, she just now knows that it has to be HIS decision to join the Light Side, she can’t ask him again – it won’t work. Like the TLJ novel states, she’s good at waiting, so deep down she’ll be waiting for him to eventually make the right decision. Also another prediction for Rey, is that the arm scar she got during the Throne Room fight will feature prominently in at least one on screen moment. I imagine it will go something like, she’s getting ready putting her satchel on etc, and looks down at her arm and remembers Ben/Kylo and that epic moment they fought together. Now Rey has a scar to remember him, and he too has one to remember her. ~swoons~ The recent costume leak (re: arm band) seem to support this scar’s significance further, but I initially thought that the scar would be important because LF chose to feature it on the damn TLJ poster.

THE WAR/THE BALANCE: This is the final film in the sequel trilogy, and this series is called “Star Wars” so I’m predicting more war, duh. However, we’ve already seen the Light side win over the Dark in the original trilogy, but it didn’t work – the Dark still rose back up. That’s why, this time round something’s got to be different. The Resistance can’t just defeat The First Order, I don’t think that’s going to cut it. TLJ expressed the nuisances of war, with the Resistance bombers and members dying, and also the large First Order crew who would’ve died on the dreadnaught. It really stuck with me what DJ said to Finn, “They blow you up today, you can blow them up tomorrow”. Maybe this wasn’t a precursor for IX, and was just Rian being Rian. But I still predict that Rey and Ben will team up again in this movie, but stay together this time, and they will initiate something like a ceasefire between the two sides, ending the vicious endless cycle of war that has plagued the galaxy for decades now. Ben and Rey are ‘the chosen one’ who will finally bring balance to the Force. It will be very interesting to see how this balance will be portrayed in a larger galactic scale.

FINN: Don’t get me wrong, I love my boy Finn, but to be honest on paper he is quite a one dimension character in regards to how he’s treated in these films. LF could’ve focused on his traumatic upbringing in The First Order and his emotions towards his ex-fellow troopers. Instead they have brushed past it, having Finn gunning down Storm Troopers with no second thought. (I guess they have the traumatic childhoods of Rey and Kylo to focus on instead). So the only prediction I have for him is that he will truly earn the title of ‘Resistance Hero’ in IX. Because in both the TFA and TLJ, he either left or tried leaving to save himself or save Rey, but by the end of TLJ he was finally committed to fighting for the Resistance’s cause (due largely to Rose’s influence).

POE: Poe was originally supposed to die in TFA, and in that movie he was really just a pilot (‘the best one in the Resistance’ though). In TLJ, he was still a pilot, but also shown to be cocky and impulsive, so the aim of TLJ was to teach him how to become a better leader, like Leia etc. So no doubt, in IX he’ll be making much better leadership calls, and assessing the risks more wisely. HOWEVER, it has been pointed out before how Poe, somewhat corrupts Holdo’s line of “We are the spark that will ignite the fire that will restore the Republic”, into “We are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down” this leads me to the juicy personal prediction (that probably won’t happen but...) maybe Poe in IX will turn into a ‘Coin’ like character, from the Hunger Games. Where Poe makes some very destructive calls, because he takes the war waaaay too far. I’m imagining this being Poe vs Hux, and it just keeps escalating and escalating in bloodshed. Hey, like I said, this probably won’t eventuate.

HUX: It seems obvious at this point that Hux is going to fail spectacularly again, for the third and final time. In TFA, his precious Starkiller Base was blown up. In TLJ, a dreadnought was destroyed under his watch, and then he lost his chance to become Supreme Leader as quickly as the opportunity arose. I predict that once he’s surrendered he’ll either sit there hilariously glaring everyone down, or pull the weasel move and beg/plead for his life. Regardless, it’ll be entertaining. Some might think that Hux is a serious military threat, and maybe in this film he might finally rise to the occasion. But throughout TLJ in particular, he was a laughing stock, and being completely honest Hux poses no serious threat to Kylo Ren. Kylo could end Hux’s life with the force or his saber, or both, within a mere second. WATCH YA BACK HUX. In all seriousness though, Hux will probably take every opportunity to undermine Kylo’s leadership – I know that. Man, do love their hate-hate colleague working relationship. 

I’m looking forward to:

More Reylo scenes – need I say more?

More Force Bond sessions, because we damn well know it ain’t gone

Seeing Kylo Ren The Supreme Leader, acting as such, sitting in his throne, and ya know just generally running The First Order (eeeeep!)

Simply seeing more Kylo scenes in general, because let's be real, Kylo/Rey/Finn are the true trio, and this is the final movie so this is our chance to finally see more of his POV. This will also be crucial to the redemption story too, as the general audience will probably need a lot more information about him to be onboard for his redemption

My favourite comedy duo Poe and Finn will be back together again at last! I cannot wait for the new banter and shenanigans with these two

John Williams’ amazing final SW score

All the new costumes/hair styles (It’s very wishful thinking but I would low-key love if the characters changed costumes at Padmé's rate)

I know the sequel trilogy hasn’t had the largest scale of cityscape world-building, but ya never know!

I’m one of those people that fell in love with the Knights of Ren during that brief rainy flashback in TFA, so hopefully they make an appearance, after all what’s a ‘Master’ of Ren without those he masters?

I’m curious to see:

What kind of leader will Kylo be of the First Order? And how is his leadership in general is tracking, is it threatened (i.e. Hux)?

How will Finn and the rest of the Resistance react to Rey being a ‘Jedi’? in TFA everyone except Kylo (and the FO, I guess) were ignorant to the fact that Rey was Force Sensitive. Obviously the resistance noticed Rey force lifting rocks at the end of TLJ, so now they’re all in the loop. Will Finn think she’s ‘changed’? (This is specifically discussed by Finn and Rose in the TLJ novel actually)

Similarly, how will the resistance react to Rey being connection to Kylo, both emotionally and via the force? (They are undeniably connected now thanks to TLJ). How will they react if they ever find out about the Throne Room? ~This is so juicy to consider~

How romantic will Reylo actually be on screen? Will there be an epic kiss? (God, I hope so)

Will Leia survive this trilogy? Han and Luke haven’t, so there’s that...

Will we get the “return to mother” moment (re: reverse Anidala), of Kylo and Leia? If she doesn’t die, this seems like a no brainer

Will the Jedi teachings (the ancient texts) even be a big deal in IX? Luke wasn’t their biggest fan after all. What opinion will Rey take?

What role will Rose play within the resistance this time round? I think it’s going be more prominent; e.g. she’ll be at the decisions making table alongside Poe, Finn, and Leia

Will there be any tie-back to the ‘original’ chosen one, Anakin, to bring this story full circle? Anakin was supposed to ‘bring balance to the Force’ after-all (even though we know Ben and Rey are going to do this)

If the KoR are in IX, will they be Kylo’s blindly pledged allies, and then during his redemption journey will they turn into foes?

With Snoke, the ‘man behind the curtain’ puppeteer style villain being gone, does there need to be a new threat/villain? Is there room for that in the story this late in the game?

Will there be more Force Ghosts in IX, now that Yoda has set a precedent by appearing in TLJ?

If/when Rey and Ben team up again, how will this be possible this time round with Kylo being Supreme Leader of The First Order? Will he chose to leave the Order, or be forced to leave early on in the film?

With Rey and Ben united, will we see some new awesome powerful Force moments? Like how Leia rescued herself in TLJ, or how Kylo froze Poe’s blaster fire, or hell, how Force Ghost Yoda conducted lighting?!

#reylo #starwars #star wars #sw #reylo fandom #reylo trash #rey and ben solo #rey and ben #rey x ben #rey x ben solo #sw meta #kylo #kylo ren #kylo x rey #rey x kylo ren #rey x kylo #finn #poe #epix #episodeix #episode ix #episode ix speculation #tfa #tlj #The Force Awakens #the last jedi #save ben solo #bendemption #redemption #starwarsepisodeix

[weretheones]

Just Go- Daryl Dixon

Plot/Request: Your first solo run with Daryl was supposed to be quick and easy, but it ends up being quite the opposite. When Daryl ignores his only exit to run back and save you, you can’t help but wonder why. (Set in early S3, before the Governor) 

Word Count:
 3,142

Warnings: swearing, rusty writing skills lol

Note: i haven’t written something like this is over a year... sorry if its not great. luv u all <3 part 2 will be up probably sunday (unless i get impatient and release it tomorrow...) and more fics are coming soon! ;)

—————————————————————————————

You awoke to the sunrise, the rays falling against your pillow. Your eyes burned as they fluttered open, craving more sleep. With a grunt you rubbed them softly, propping yourself up on your right elbow and cowering from the bright light.

When the memories of the night before popped up, you felt your stomach knot. Rick had asked you to go for a quick run with Daryl, just to an abandoned strip of stores nearby. It was simple enough, in and out, grab whatever supplies you could find on the trip. It wasn’t the run itself that made you nervous, it was Daryl.

The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but you made a great team. You constantly bickered, teased another, yet a walker didn’t stand a chance against you two. Perhaps that's why Rick chose you to go with Daryl, or maybe he was punishing you for embarrassing him the other night in a game of cards. Whatever the reason, you were stuck with it. With him.

You groaned again, sitting up fully and stretching your arms above your head, loving the feeling of the bones in your back crack. You were thankful for the comfort of the prison, having your own cell, your own bed. You really were, but hell did you miss having a nice bed. Maybe you should check for a mattress shop, you thought, then chuckled at yourself.

Now standing up, you walked over to the small mirror over your sink. In the sink, which didn’t actually work, you had a small orange bucket filled with water. You splashed it up to your face, then pat your skin dry with the lower hem of your shirt. Looking back up to the mirror you took in your appearance. The grease in your hair was slowly caking your hair, but it was nothing a shower couldn’t fix. There was no use to do it now, you’d probably just come home from the run dirty again. Other than that, you looked, for the most part, normal. 

For the most part.

You grabbed the hairbrush from your shelf and brushed your hair back into a low, but tight, ponytail. You stepped back, grabbing your knife and gun from the chair beside your bed.

Before you left your cell you grabbed a thin sweater from the edge of your bed, throwing it on as you left. As you walked along the quiet hall of the prison, you hugged yourself, loving the warmth it created.

Walking into the common area you quickly grabbed a granola bar and an apple, slightly tossing the apple in the air. You began to step away but looked back at the last minute. You had a thought to grab another for Daryl, just in case he hadn’t eaten yet. You knew the archer well, regardless of your rocky relationship with him, you knew he would skip meals often.

A sigh left your lips, grabbing a second granola bar and holding it in your other hand as you ate the apple. You walked out the prison, assuming Daryl was probably outside already.

You opened the door with a loud creak, noticing Daryl’s head turn back to you as you did so. You started walking faster to him. He turned back, looking out on the horizon as the sun finished rising. You noticed a cigarette in his fingers, it was almost finished.

"Hey,” You nodded, he grunted with a nod back. You sat down beside him, finishing your apple as he finished his cigarette.

“You watch the sunrise?” You asked, looking at him. His blue eyes flickered to yours, the cigarette still in his mouth.

He nodded again, removing it from his mouth and softly mumbled, “Yeah.”

You took a bite of your apple, letting the two of you slip into silence.

But then Daryl groaned loudly, “Can ya eat that thing any louder?” 

You glared at him, swallowing the chewed apple in your mouth. Was he serious? It was a fucking apple, it crunches. But you knew saying so would only aggravate him.

You sighed, “Can we not do this today, I mean, we already have to spend the next few hours together. We might as well do it not fighting.”

He only scoffed, “Fine.”, then turned back to smoke.

After a few moments, you’d finished your apple (thankfully without hearing about it a second time from Daryl), throwing the core to the grassy area of the field. He took one last drag, finishing his smoke and flicking it to the ground before standing up from the bench to stomp it.

“Ya ready?” He asked. You noticed two backpacks on the bench, one for him, one for you. He grabbed one, throwing it over his shoulders and held out the other for you.

You grabbed it and nodded, “You know where we’re going?”

“Yeah, Rick gave me a map.”

Quickly peaking inside the bag he’d packed for you, you noticed a water bottle, almost full, and a small bag of peanuts. You threw your granola bar inside, grabbing the one from your pocket and extending it to him.

“Here.” You mumbled, barely making eye contact. He eyed the bar, shaking his head.

“’M good, thanks.”

You sighed, “Daryl,” Looking at him sternly now. “Cigarettes aren’t breakfast. You need to eat.”

“Said ‘m good.” He grunted, walking past you.

You knew how stubborn he was. Telling him to eat again would only make him refuse it more. Plus, as you’d said earlier, you didn’t want to fight with him today of all days. 

“Whatever you say, Dixon.”

“We’re takin’ my bike.” He nodded to it, propped up against the fence. “Quicker, easier.”

“Louder.” You countered, an eyebrow raised. He ignored your quip, instead standing his bike up and kicking up the stand. He was right, it was much faster. Plus it was better to leave the car for the group to use in case they had to.

He sat down on the bike, scooting forward to make some room for you. You sat behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He tensed at your touch, and you suddenly realized this was much closer than you’d thought. You could feel his muscles underneath his shirt. Your chest pressed tight to his back...

The rumble of the engine starting pulled you from your thoughts. He pushed off the ground, letting the bike move down the path where Glenn, who was on watch duty by the front gate opened it for you two. You nodded at him as you rode past.

The ride left you with time to think. You couldn’t really talk to Daryl over the sound of the engine, not as if he’d talk much anyways. Instead, you let your mind wander.

You’d been with the group since the farm. Being one of the Greene’s only surviving neighbours, you were lucky to be able to seek refuge there. Your own farm had been taken over by the dead. At first, you didn’t think much of Daryl. There was no doubt he was interesting, but nothing to obsess over. But as time passed, as you watched him get hurt over and over again searching for a little girl, you finally realized how special he was.

You’d never admit it, at least not to Daryl, but behind your witty snarks and remarks was deep care for the man. To put it simply, you had a crush. Though you weren’t sure if it was merely that anymore.

You sighed, resting your check against Daryl’s vest. Normally, you never would’ve done so, he never would’ve let you, but you were tired. You didn’t care. The seams of the angel wings on his vest tickled your skin, you didn’t care about that either.

You weren’t completely sure how long had passed, maybe an hour and a half, maybe longer. As you lifted your head, resting your chin on Daryl’s shoulder, you noticed a blur of buildings becoming clearer and clearer. It seemed like a small town, with this mall strip at the edge of it.

You thought perhaps you could scavenge the homes too, they might have food. But as the buildings became clearer, you noticed they had been destroyed. It seemed a fire had taken over the town, leaving only the mall strip standing.

Daryl slowed to a stop, letting you hop off the bike before he kicked the stand down, sliding off next. You adjusted your backpack, looking over the stores before back at him. There were only four, two convenience-type stores, a pharmacy, and a clothing store.

He walked ahead of you a few steps, then looked it over himself. After a moment he pointed to the furthest end, “We’ll start there, make our way back.”

“Gotcha,” You mumbled. You walked, straying a few feet behind him, to the furthest store. It read ‘Jimmy’s Convenience’ above it.

The first two stores were easy enough, in and out, kill any stray walkers and grab what you can. So far you’d picked up some toiletries, a pack of bandaids and some warm water bottles. You’d seen Daryl grab two packs of pasta and two cans of corn and a case of six energy bars. He’d emptied it out, throwing the single bars in his bag to save space.

Considering you still had two stores to go, you were feeling hopeful.

The next store was a clothing store. You felt excited at the thought of new underwear, socks and if you were really lucky, a new pair of jeans. The pair you had now was ripped, stained with blood and dirt and loose around your body.

Daryl walked in first, crossbow raised high as he searched the store for any walkers. You followed suit, your knife held high, ready to stab anything that came your way.

He looked back to you after noticing the store was empty and nodded. You nodded back, sliding your knife back into its spot on your hip. You relaxed slightly at Daryl’s look then began looking around for anything useful.

It was somewhat hard to see around, the windows had been covered with newspapers for the most part. It seemed that three-quarters of the way up they’d ran out. Lucky for you, it allowed some sunlight to sneak into the store, so you weren’t completely dependent on your flashlights.

The two of you took an aisle at a time, checking for anything warm or valuable. You knew some of the group’s sizes, but it didn’t matter that much. Whatever you found would be good enough.

As you looked through the second aisle, you found a plaid long sleeve that looked particularly warm. You glanced back to Daryl, who continued searching his area. It looked big enough, you thought and stuffed it in your bag. If not, you could just give it to Rick instead. As you reached the end of the aisle you saw it.

Daryl approached you, a plastic bag full of clothes. “Find anything?” He asked crossbow slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. I did.” You smiled largely, chuckling at the sight. In front of you was possibly the ugliest shirt you’d seen. You dashed to it, ripping it off the rank to hold in all its glory. It was a combination of, god, you couldn’t say how many patterns and all the colours of the rainbow.

He scoffed at you, shaking his head. He was hard to read, you couldn’t tell if he was completely fed up with you, or slightly amused. Probably a bit of both.

“Looks about your size, Dixon.” You winked, ripping it off the hanger and throwing it at him.

He shot back, “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m serious, I think you’d look hot.” You teased, eyeing him up and down for a split second before looking back around the store. You kicked the fallen shirt to the side as you walked past him. He gave you a lingering stare as you walked by. You tried to ignore the feeling it gave you, how your cheeks became pink, your body hot.

“Shut up.” He huffed loudly, now mostly annoyed by you.

You looked up at him, noticing his jaw clenching and deciding to ease up on him. “Ok, fine, sorry.” You mumbled half-assed. “Find anything yourself?”

“Yeah, socks, shirts.” Daryl raised the bag slightly with his answer.

“Alright, I’m gonna check the women’s section, then we’re done.” You said to him, turning back around, mumbling under your breath, “I hope they still have jeans.”

"Ain’t nothin’ wrong with yours.” He scoffed.

“They’re disgusting.”

You half expected him to comment about you acting like a ‘princess’, but he said nothing in return. He followed you as you made your way to the back of the store. As you walked, you noticed a door. You made a note of it in the back of your mind, reading the ‘EXIT’ sign above.

You gasped softly at the sight of a jean rack, picking up your pace. He watched you jog across the store, like a kid at a candy shop. For a split second, Daryl felt his heart flutter at your excitement. It was something he’d been feeling more often lately, but couldn’t explain why... He didn’t understand it. 

You yelped, “Yes!” as you noticed they had a pair in your size. You smiled largely, stuffing it in your bag as you searched the rest of the area. No more uncomfortable, ugly jeans, you thought.

After a few more moments, grabbing a pack of underwear and some sweaters for the others back home, you looked to Daryl. He was leaning against a shelf with his elbow resting on the cold metal, his right foot crossed over the left. In his hands he fiddled with something, you weren’t sure what. It didn’t matter.

“Done shoppin’?” He quipped.

“Yeah.” You nodded. He turned cooly, not giving you a second look and began walking to the front of the store when a loud slap against glass sounded. The pair of you stopped immediately, your knife and his crossbow raised. He looked back to you, giving you a sharp look to stay behind him. You nodded swiftly, following him. When you turned the corner to face the windows of the store your heart dropped.

Although the newspaper covered your view of them, you could make out the outlines from the sun behind them. Walkers were pressed against the glass, smacking against it with their boney hands. Daryl motioned you to turn and get out the back. You dashed through the store, him closely behind you.

When you reached the back door, you tried opening it slowly enough to check if it was clear but noticed there was something pushing against it. Something too heavy for you to push out of the way.

“Daryl,” You snapped, gaining his attention to you. He’d been watching the windows, hoping they’d hold out long enough for the two of you to make it out. “I can’t get it open. There's something in front of it.”

“Move.” He grunted, throwing his crossbow back over his shoulder and pushing with both hands. He groaned out loud, the sound of glass cracking making the both of your hearts speed up. He stepped back for a moment, unsuccessful.

He smashed his body against the door again, pushing with all his might. You watched the window with panicked eyes, glancing back and forth between it and Daryl. His feet scrambled underneath him as he continued to push.

Then the sickening sound of glass shattering, then overlapping groans filled the store. Your heart stopped, watching at the further window collapsed, allowing the walkers to flood into the building.

“Fuck it, Daryl, we have to find another way.” You grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away. Urgency was thick in your voice. The walkers weren’t far, but Daryl was determined.

“Come on.” He groaned under his breath, slamming his shoulder against it. A glimmer of hope filled both of you as it budged forward slightly. With the budge, you heard the sound of loud metal scraping against the ground. That was only sure to draw in more walkers.

Your eyes snapped back to the front of the store. The walkers, they were too close. You’d have to fight them.

You approached the first one, driving your knife into its skull quickly. Then the second. Then the third. But when you came across the fourth, another was quickly behind it. You stabbed the first one, kicking in the kneecap of the second. But your knife wouldn’t budge from its spot in the previous walker’s head. And then two more approached.

While you’d been fighting, Daryl opened the gap enough to just squeeze through. He looked back at you, then the door. More walkers flooded throughout the backfield, quickly blocking any and all exits.

You noticed too. But you were still stuck fighting off the walkers inside. He’d have to leave you to get away in time. There was no way there’d be enough time for you to get away too.

“Run!” You yelled, the lower walker grabbing at your legs. You looked back to it to kick it away, screaming back at Daryl again, “Just go! Leave!”

He stared at you for a moment, panic in his eyes. You looked away, continuing to fight the walkers in front of you. Finally, your knife came loose from the walker's skull, so you continued fighting. Then you heard the door slam close, you couldn’t tell if you felt heartbroken or happy. At least Daryl would survive, at least he’d get away.

Then one of the walkers to your right collapsed, an arrow lodged in its eye. You snapped your head back, eyes wide, seeing the archer stand there.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He yelled, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the walkers. Daryl remembered a closet at the back of the store from where he was scavenging, he lead you there. It was far enough for the walkers to lose sight of you too, at least long enough for you to hide in time. The door swung open easily and he jumped in, pulling your body quickly inside too. He shut it softly, as not to alert them.

You breathed heavily, body pushed against his. The room was smaller than the average supply closet. There was barely enough room for you to move from Daryl, nonetheless fight walkers if they barged in.

They stumbled along, the groans and moans louder and louder until they lingered just outside the door. You felt panic begin to sweep over you until you noticed Daryl’s touch.

His hands hadn’t left your shoulders yet, his fingers pressed into your skin gently, almost soothingly, as he watched the door, silent as could be. You relaxed into his touch. Your heart rate slowed slightly, but then you wondered...

Why didn’t he save himself?

part two

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead one shot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fic #norman reedus #daryl / reader #daryl dixon / reader #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic

[crowsvalentine]

Lost Hope

Kaz and Inej do what they always do, they learn and they adapt. 

(not linked to any other fic, this is entirely stand alone)

Please give some feedback, I don’t write much angst and I kinda really like doing it but I’m not even sure if I’m any good!

It was a question he never thought he’d be asking. A possibility he’d never thought he’d be hoping for. A future he stopped wanting and never thought he’d ever have. They’d tried, almost every night, almost every minute they were free, they tried positions and techniques that randoms on the street had told them about, they tried. But nothing was happening. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair one night, “I tried giving you everything but I can’t give you this.” 

She placed her small hands on the sides of his face, smiling at him with a smile he would rather die than never see again. She promised him she still loved him no matter what, reminding him that she was with him for him and not his abilities. 

“Nina is back tomorrow and says she knows a healer who can help us,” she’d told him, “they can tell us if something is wrong.” 

She kissed his forehead before laying down next to him, back pressed to his chest as she slowly relaxed and fell asleep. He could’t join her, however, trying to understand why nothing was working for them when people who weren’t even trying get it so easily. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he looked down at the hand that was splayed over the bed, her fourth finger showing him that they’d done everything right up until then.

A week later he found himself sitting across the closed door to his own bedroom. The healer needed the room empty to concentrate, she’d ordered him out the moment she’d been done with him and called Inej in. Nina had slid down to the floor next to him, and if he were anyone else, he knew she’d have taken his hand in her own and promised him everything was going to be okay. But nothing was ever okay with them, even after years of them being at the top of the world. Things still went wrong, plans never went as they were supposed to, these are things that they dealt with on the daily. Yet, he felt like he never felt any of those other times. With every second that door was closed, he felt little cracks appearing inside him, things that were once sealed opening up once more at the thought of something being wrong. 

“It could be just the stress of wanting it so bad,” Nina finally said, “I knew of women who couldn’t until they’d stopped trying.”

“Too bad we don’t know how to stop trying.” 

She frowned and sighed before standing, holding her hand out to him in vain, knowing he wouldn’t take the help to stand. 

“Let’s go for a walk, Brekker, you need some air.” 

They walked, only down the street and back up again, Kaz not wanting stray far from the house in case they were called back in and he wasn’t there. It was the healer standing at the door that made him run the last few feet to the house, the look on her face quickly telling him what he didn’t want to hear.”

“I felt nothing inside of her,” the healer said, sipping from the cup of tea Nina had handed her. She’d put Inej to sleep for the checkup, and informed them that she’d be awake in a few hours and would want all of them there when she was told the news. They sat in the small kitchen until then, her and Nina drinking their tea while Kaz’s sat untouched in front of him. “There is usually something else alive inside women, millions of little bundles of cells that hold half a life. I didn’t feel any inside of her.” Kaz knew the basics to the reproductive system inside of women, but he was no healer or medik. “Eggs, Mister Brekker,” the healer said, “we call them eggs.” He knew of that. 

“She would have known if she’d been sterilized, wouldn’t she?” Nina asked

Kaz gripped the edge of the table, his nails scratching through the hard wood. He should have known, he should have at least suspected. The same thing was done to the girls at the White Rose, though the procedure was consensual, they’d had the choice whether to do it or not. Inej wasn’t given the choice, or the knowledge of it even happening. She wouldn’t have been the only one. He stood, fast enough to knock the chair he’d been sitting on to the ground, the motion and sound making the two women jump. 

“Send a runner when Inej wakes up,” he said as he started out toward the door.

“I need to know where you’re going to do that.”

“I’m going hunting for a peacock.” 

If the false plague that Nina had created did any damage to the Menagerie, the business didn’t show it. Men and women still streamed in and out of the building, not seeming to remember that just over a decade ago, a red X marked the front doors. Kaz scowled up at it before he walked in, the plague may have lessened business, but the fact that the building still stood and was pact with people, was enough for him to hate it. 

Heleen Van Houden seemed to be ageless, she still looked the same as she did the first time he’d seen her standing in the center of her brothel. It was the work of a tailor that Kaz knew was stowed away in one of the top floor bedrooms. Women like her didn’t deserve the privileges of a tailor, they deserved to grow old and wilt. 

She seemed to sense him walking in, her eyes going straight to him the moment he stepped inside. No words were said, but people screamed when Kaz pulled the gun out of his coat and aimed it directly between her jewel lined eyes. 

“It’s been a long time, Dirtyhands,” she drawled, looking unaffected by the weapon that could end her life in less than a second. “How’s my little Suli Lynx?” 

Kaz pressed down the trigger, smirking when she finally showed any ounce of fear. The gun clicked, but no bullet was released. 

“Imagine if it was loaded,” he finally said, “it may not be my way anymore, but I’m not incapable of killing if I have a good reason.” He paused and looked around, all eyes were on them. “Remember that you’ve given me a reason, Heleen, but I need some names before I put a hole through your head.” 

Threats like this would have had him picked up by the Stadwatch in a matter of minutes, but he was Kaz Brekker, he owned the Stadwatch and after everything she’s done, all Heleen Van Houden had were some diamonds and a handful of girls that would leave her side the second they could. 

He sat across from her in her office, being escorted there by the hired muscle that stood at the Menagerie doors, Kaz wanted to show her how her men wouldn’t lay a hand on him even if she told them to, but he didn’t, he still liked the idea of Heleen thinking she was safe.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he paused, “today. But I should.”

She didn’t let out a sigh of relief, only shifted her eyes to the one-way glass that surrounded her office. She could look out, but no one could look in, something that is critical in her establishment because she needed to know what her girls were up to when she wasn’t around. However, in the past she looked around in glee, her entire world laid out in front of her making her money and giving her everything she ever wanted. Now, as she looked out, Kaz could see thoughts swimming through her head that scared even the great Tante Heleen. He smirked.

“It will all be taken away eventually, Heleen,” he reminded her, “just because I’m not putting a bullet through your head or slicing open your throat at this very moment, doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

“And why is my life on your list now, Brekker? I haven’t gone after that Suli Lynx of yours in years.” 

“Why?” He stood, eyes narrowed and teeth bared, the image of Dirtyhands from those first few years of his arrival coming back ten fold, and Heleen looked ready to soil herself. “Because I’m trying to have a fucking family but my wife can’t bare my fucking children!” 

She froze, the tiniest of smiles ghosting over her face that Kaz wanted to blow off with a bullet. But he couldn’t, he still needed her. 

“She was sterilized for her own good, Brekker, all the girls are,” she spoke as if it was a gift, the best thing she could give her slaves. “It’s not my fault she couldn’t understand what was being said to her.”

“Translators exist.”

“I didn’t want a translator, I wanted whores who couldn’t get pregnant.” 

He did as he had done back at the house, digging his nails into the hard wood of his chair’s arm rests, trying to keep the urge to dig a blade through her heart at bay while he finished what he came for. 

“Names, of the healer who did it, of the men who held her down, and any one else involved.” 

She said nothing, just sat back, smiling at him with the same smile as before. 

“What do I get in return?”

He moved quickly, as she was talking he’d reloaded his gun, and now, it had one less bullet, and Heleen stared at the shattered glass that now lined her office floor. He’d broken the peacock figurine she had perched on her desk, the bullet now embedded in the only real wall of her office, right near her arm. 

“I don’t put the next one through your skull.” 

As he listened, memorizing every name and address that she listed off for him, he imagined the bullet hitting her right between her eyes, wanting to see her body hit her desk, blood pooling all over the contracts and the forged indenture agreements. However, he just sat, making no move to make his imagination come to life. By the end of it, she sat, stiff as if bracing herself for something.

Then he stood, and she raised her arms to protect herself.

“Thank you, Heleen,” he said, buttoning his coat with the gun still in his hand. He said nothing else when he turned and made for the door, not planning to turn around at all to even look at her one last time. But then-

“You should be happy that whore can’t ha-”

Heleen Van Houden, Tante Heleen, The Peacock, hit the floor like any other barrel rat, one eye wide, the other blown out by a bullet. No parade, no fireworks, just another body for the boats to take at night and dump in the water. 

When he stepped out of the office, all eyes were on him, everyone hearing the shots but not understanding a thing. Kaz stood facing them all, face hard, hands resting easily on his cane. 

“Everyone but those who work here get out in the next five seconds or the next bullets will go through you.” 

People ran screaming, and the girls huddled together on one of the feathery couches. Kaz waited the five seconds, and five more before he put the gun back into his coat. 

“Where the fuck have you been, Brekker? How do you just leave Inej like that, how can you,” Kaz tuned Nina out as he made his way through the house. He climbed the stairs slowly, so slowly that Nina took a step back just to watch. He put a hand up to stop her, shaking his head when she questioned him. He needed to be with her alone, and Nina thankfully understood this. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said the moment he stepped into the room, and his heart shattered into a million pieces when her voice cracked and tears started down her cheeks. She stood in the middle of the room, practically falling into him when he wrapped his arms under her and lifted her. She continued crying as he walked to the bed, and didn’t stop even when he sat her down on his lap.

“You did nothing, Inej,” he whispered, “nothing is your fault, nothing.” 

“I can’t, I can’t give you what you want. What you deserve, Kaz, you’ve tried so hard to,” she took in a shaky breath, and Kaz pressed his lips to her head as she did, “tried so hard to change, you did change, and now I can’t-”

“Inej, Inej I didn’t change to have this,” he assured her, she sniffled and finally looked back up at him. 

“Yes you did, this is what you wanted, and I-”

“I didn’t change to have a child, Inej,” he said again, “I changed to have you, to have you in my life, I took off all my armour for you, I became a better man for you, you and no one else.” 

She nodded slowly and laid her head back down on his shoulder, and Kaz understood. He shifted, not letting go even once as he moved back on the bed to rest against the headboard. She needed to cry, she needed him to hold her. She was strong, but there are things that could break even her. Even if for only a little while. 

“I killed her,” he finally said after almost hours of silence, “Heleen, she’s dead. She can’t hurt any more girls.”

She looked at him for the first time, her eyes red, her lip swollen from where she was biting it, and she looked relieved. Taking his face between her hands, she brought him up to press his forehead against her’s, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Kaz, thank you for saving me and all of them.” 

#i write for soc #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #nina zenik #six of crows #crooked kingdom #wow #look at me #writing angst and shit #I know I wrote a pregnancy fic already but I had an idea #which is actually possible in canon

[redemptions]

flowers and sugar

relationship: yugyeom x reader

genre: fluff, tattoo!au

length: 1493

summary: yuygeom is a trainee tattoo artist and is just a little bit in love with a cilent. for @pizzawasabi .

-

The first time she had met him, it had been during a tattoo appointment. The huge arching flower design that curved down her waist, her hip and halfway down her thigh was something of a masterpiece, the kind that would take days to finish. She’d prepared for this when she decided that this design was what she wanted above all else, just as she’d done meticulous research to find GOT studios and their fantastically talented artists.

Jaebum ran the place, had been the one to take on the ambitious project she had proposed to him. He seemed genuinely excited at the work going into it. He had sat with her for ages at the beginning going over design details down to the smallest cluster of thorns on a rose’s stem. 

She was grateful for the amount of care he displayed over this, which is why when he asked her if his trainee could sit in and possibly participate in the inking, she hadn’t disagreed. Nothing that Jaebum had shown her so far made her question in judgment on the matter.

She was on her stomach, bare legged and underwear pulled down on one side when Jaebum introduced Yugyeom to her.

The first thought she had was something along the lines of ‘damn isn’t he a pretty one?’ It might have been less PG than that but those were the kind of thoughts that one kept to themselves in polite company. 

He was not that much taller than Jaebum but was considerably thinner with long legs cased in black jeans. He had soft eyes that creased at the edges when he smiled in greeting and a sunflower tattooed on his hand that was revealed when he moved to shake her hand. He had a quite a few of tattoos actually – a blue bottle of belladonna curled up against the right side of his neck and a pyramid in the centre of his chest, peeking out under his low-cut shirt collar.

‘He’s good, a little fresh by good,’ Jaebum assured, clapping Yugyeom on the back.

A blush blossomed on Yugyeom’s cheek. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Hey, if Jaebum trusts you, I trust you,’ she assured and yeah, she definitely felt hot all over when Yugyeom made eye contact with her. She pushed a hand through her hair nervously. ‘I think the pen’s dried.’

Jaebum’s eyes brightened and he moved closer, slid his hand over one line of black on her stomach and nodded happily. ‘We’ll get started then.’

‘This is the design?’ he muttered, eyes tracing the penned stencil lines that were drawn into her skin. He had shuffled closer to get a better look.

Jaebum hummed, moving away to double check the ink and gun. ‘What do you think?’

‘Beautiful,’ he commented, his voice so honest that it made her cheeks flush. Eyes locked again, and he smiled crookedly. He knew what he was doing, she realised and she wasn’t sure whether that made her want to laugh or scowl.

In the end, she didn’t have to choose because Jaebum shoved the tattoo gun against Yugyeom’s chest and advised, ‘Start from her thigh and work upwards. Remember not to press your hand down to the skin.’

Yugyeom’s touch was gentle, careful in comparison to the sharp embedding of needles against her flesh. Whilst the gun stung, felt a little a hot poker being dragged across the flesh, the caresses of his fingertips almost offset the feeling. If she focused hard enough, the actual tattoo was merely an ache and his touch soothing. She tried to sit as still as possible, breathed as deeply as she could, and only moved when her legs started to cramp.

Yugyeom followed the stenciled lines with steadiest of hands. His tongue flicked against his bottom lip as he concentrated, determined. Jaebum sat at his side and would offer low advice or encouragement to which Yugyeom would respond in a low murmur. Sometimes he’d raise his voice to ask her how she was doing, feeling light-headed, need a break, want some water.

It took six hours to do the full outline. Her body felt stiff and tired when it was all over but still, there was a bubbling of excitement in her stomach when she helped onto her feet and shuffled her way to the full-length mirror to give final approval. Yugyeom looked nervous as he waited for her comment.

‘It’s perfect,’ she approved and beamed, ‘Exactly what I wanted.’

A sigh of relief was released and Yugyeom grinned, so wide and excited and it hit her right in the chest.

-

‘He’s single you know,’ Jaebum commented nonchalantly. She had lingered after the session, as she waited for the soothing cream to dry on her skin before she redressed. Jaebum was off to the side, carefully tidying and sterilizing the supplies used.

She startled. ‘What?’

Jaebum’s lips curled. ‘Yugy,’ he elaborated, ‘He’s single.’

She averted her gaze and carefully shimmed her trousers up her legs. ‘I…I don’t know why you feel the need to tell me this.’

‘Uh-huh,’ he sounded amusingly unconvinced.

‘Shut up,’ she retorted quickly.

‘You can’t shut up the truth,’ Jaebum teased.

She shot him a glare and he chuckled happily.

When she left, Yugyeom was at the front desk with Jinyoung. He smiled brightly and stated he looked forward to seeing her tomorrow.

‘JB-hyung is letting me help him with the colouring,’ he stated and then frowned worriedly, ‘that’s okay right?’

The skin on her hip felt warm, and she wasn’t too sure whether it was from the tattoo or the memory of his touch on her. ‘Of course,’ she assured, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Jaebum wriggled his eyebrows over Jinyoung’s shoulder and it took all of your control not to flip him off.

‘I’m looking forward to it too,’ Yugyeom spoke so genuinely that it was hard not to smile, not to feel the uptick in her heartbeat.

‘Same,’ her voice was breathy when she replied, and oh god, that was an unnecessary answer, wasn’t it? 

Jinyoung arched an eyebrow in surprise but didn’t comment. Jaebum snorted his laughter. Her cheeks flared red with embarrassment. God, what was she doing? She avoided everyone’s eyes as she left, throwing her goodbyes over her shoulder.

-

Yugyeom let out a long dreamy sigh when she left, her bell above her door ringing to signal it. He lowered himself down to rest his elbow on the front desk and put his chin on his palm. 

He had first seen her two weeks before when she first entered the store with a clear design in mind. She’d spoken so passionately, had made Jaebum spend the rest of the day bouncing on his heels as a physical display of his excitement at this ambitious project that had landed at his doorstep. He always liked the complicated ones, said that he liked the way it pushed his skills to be better, but for Yugyeom, it was her that had him distracted. She had been a delight in his day, and he had only a little bit of shame in admitting that he’d found himself finding reasons to walk past the consultation rooms to get another look because he hadn’t been entirely convinced that she was actually real.

Jinyoung patted him on the back, lips twisted with amusement. ‘Enjoy yourself?’

Yugyeom hummed happily. ‘She’s perfect.’ He turned his head slightly to look at Jaebum, ‘Thank you for letting me help hyung.’

He had offered to close up the shop for two months to get on this project with Jaebum and whilst Yugyeom hated what came with locking up, it was definitely worth it.

Jaebum shook his head, smirking. ‘Thank me when you’ve asked her out and she has said yes.’

‘You think she would?’ Yugyeom questioned nervously.

‘I think you need to try and find out,’ Jinyoung shot back. That hyung never entertained his insecurities and often got him to pull his head out his ass and do what needed to be done. Even if it irritated, Yugyeom would admit that it had its benefits.

‘You got three sessions to do it,’ Jaebum reminded. ‘Don’t fuck it up.’

-

(He did fuck it up. Yugyeom had rehearsed in his head how to ask her out but it didn’t work out as planned. He’d say that it’s because she had smiled at him too brightly, had looked too beautiful and he had just wanted to know what her lips tasted like. So, he kissed her. He’d cupped her cheeks and kissed her soundly as she sat on the tattoo bed, her underwear pulled down low and her thigh stinging from the pressure of the needles forcing pinks and purples and reds into her dark flesh.

‘Sugar,’ he murmured.

‘What?’ she replied quietly, voice rough.

He bumped his nose against hers affectionately. ‘You taste like sugar,’ he stated, and then dipped his head to enjoy her taste just a little bit longer.)

-

a note from author to @pizzawasabi : cat, you’re the cutest. honestly a fantastic human being and a geninue pleasure to know. even though we haven’t actually been speaking for that long, please know that i love every interaction with have and i hope we continue to speak in the new year  🌟🌟

#7ornevernet #ultkpop #got7 #yugyeom x reader #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #yugyeom fluff #yugyeom fanfic #yugyeom scenarios #yugyeom #kim yugyeom #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #my fic #keripost #pizzawasabi

[banditthewriter]

Running Away part 4

Thank you for reading! This part is where you should abandon any sort of timeline from the show because I watched it when it first came out and can’t remember how everything happened. Plus, you know, creative license? Just go with it!

I wanted to post this when I first got home but had to make my gifts for an office party and it took longer than I thought! Here you go and hopefully the next one will be up this week!

@yessy2012​ @1550kilogramsofsilver​ @missphanosaur18

Previously: Your friend Alice stopped by and embarrassed you, you and Billy talked while you made dinner. You are starting to feel things you shouldn’t be.

I hope you enjoy!

*****

Billy had thrown his bag on the couch, the best vantage point for him to be able to keep his eyes on the door through the night. The only other option was for you to sleep on the couch and him in your bed and you weren’t feeling that nice. Not that you thought for one moment he would take you up on it.

Never before had you been so aware of the fact that you didn’t have a real bedroom door. Instead you had a thin dark red curtain that you usually didn’t close but you did tonight. You undressed quickly and slid into the bathroom to brush your teeth before you removed the makeup you had put on for your night out.

Finished with that, you went into the living room and went around the room to make sure the door was locked and dinner was put away. You could feel Billy’s eyes on you as you moved around doing your nightly ritual but you tried not to pay it attention.

“Make yourself at home Billy. Bathroom is there, kitchen is obvious, television is all yours but I do ask you keep it low. If you happen to find my cell phone, please plug it in over there. I have no idea where it has gotten to but I need it before I go back to work on Monday.”

You looked around the room once more before you realized you were just stalling. With a nod you walked the long way around the small living room so that you could lightly touch his shoulder.

“Goodnight Billy,” you whispered as you walked past him. You were just moving past the curtain when he responded with an equally soft “Goodnight Y/N”.

You slipped under the covers and forced yourself to be as still as possible. Every nerve in your body was very aware that Billy was in your living room. Your bed was large and soft, barely made a noise, but you still felt like any deep breath would cause a sound. 

You’d given him a blanket and he’d grabbed one of your throw pillows before you turned in, so he would be at least a little comfortable.

It wasn’t the first time someone had slept on your couch. Adam practically lived there when you first moved to the city, despite having his own crappy apartment not too far away. Alice, other coworkers, even a cousin had once slept on your couch. Not with any of them did you feel as uncomfortable as you did now.

Although maybe uncomfortable wasn’t the word. Truthfully you felt almost safer with him here. Maybe instead of uncomfortable you were just uneasy. Uneasy because this guy you kinda sort knew, who was a fugitive wanted for multiple murders, was on your couch. Potentially asleep on the throw pillow you got from a flea market with the words “Coffee First” on it.

He had smiled as he’d pulled it off the chair and placed it next to the arm of the sofa. You could very clearly remember that smile, blinding and warm in a way you had seen very few times before tonight.

The mere thought made a shiver run down your spine and you pulled your blanket closer. Every so often you would hear the springs in your old couch as Billy shifted around. You knew from experience, and complaints from others, that there was a few springs that pushed up and poked the occupant.

Surely as a big, bad Special Forces guy, he couldn’t be too undone by being pricked in the ass by a spring.

The blue light from the TV flickered and drew your eyes to the curtain. He either had it really low or muted. You couldn’t help but pull your tablet out to see if there was anything on the news about him.

The articles you flicked through had more details on the crimes, some you wished you hadn’t read. You watched a muted interview with captions from some Homeland Security Agent named Madani who had lost her partner during an op that Billy had intervened in. 

“We will find Billy Russo and he will be punished for these heinous acts.”

The agent seemed sure and you felt your heart speed up. Billy was a murderer, cold blooded. He killed federal agents, one very brutally. What were you thinking by letting him stay? Adam may have not turned Billy in but he wouldn’t condone a dangerous and frankly violent criminal being in his baby sister’s living room.

That thought swirling through your mind you quickly jumped out of bed and headed towards the curtain. You didn’t even grab a sweater before you went into the living room to face Billy.

Billy was not asleep so when you stormed into the room he stood up in a flurry, gun already in hand, and started to inspect the area.

“What is it?” he asked seriously, eyes darting around the room. You were thrown out of your path by noticing his clothing.

He stood in your living room in a pair of black boxer briefs and a white t-shirt and nothing else. Not even socks. The absurdity of that made you fight back a smile. For some reason you were imagining him trying to take on the NYPD with just a gun and his underwear. 

That thought was what you needed to sober up from your humor and brought back the issue at hand. Wanted fugitive, your mind supplied as you forced yourself to get back to the task at hand.

“At ease soldier,” you mumbled, not at all surprised when he actually released the tension in his arms. “I just... well I was reading some articles on all of this and I just. I don’t know if you being here is a great idea.”

Billy lowered the gun and looked around the room in confusion.

“Where do you expect me to go, Y/N? It’s two in the morning and my face is everywhere. It took a lot to get here without being seen.”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet on the rug. The familiarity calmed you enough that you were able to take a deep breath and start over.

“I get that Billy, I do. And I swear I’m not trying to be a pain right now. But you’re resourceful, you could figure it out. And I don’t mean right now but tomorrow.” You looked up at Billy and tried not to show your fear clearly on your face. “You killed a lot of people Billy and, simply, you’re dangerous.”

Billy stepped forward and your responding flinch made him place the gun on the coffee table and raise his hands. As if you didn’t know he could be deadly even without a weapon. 

“Hey, I get it. You’re freaked out right now. It’s serious shit and it’s not fair of me to ask you to help but I did.” He tried to step forward but you jerked back and he stopped moving. “Look, I know you’re scared but I would never hurt you. Y/N, I would never hurt you or let you get hurt. I promised Adam that I’d look out for you.”

You didn’t address that because it felt like too much to talk about Adam right now while you tried to fight your instincts. You knew Billy meant what he was saying but you’d read a listing of what he had done and you couldn’t believe someone could do that and not be dangerous. 

Instead you walked past Billy and sat on the couch. After a moment he moved slowly, with his hands still up, and lowered himself into the chair near you.

“If you have questions, ask me. I won’t lie. Not to you.”

You let your eyes roam over his face and tense posture. He was clearly not at ease being this open and vulnerable, maybe physically as well as emotionally. The TV caught your attention as his image, a picture from something for Anvil with him in an impeccable suit and perfectly put together, was flashed the a rehashing of the details everyone was already aware of at this point.

“You killed a lot of people, caused a few deaths by default.” At his tense nod you took a breath before continuing. “Why? I guess I need to know that first. Why did you do these things?” 

At that you gestured to the television as they listed his crimes in a neat row of bullet points (huh, irony, your mind supplied unhelpfully). Billy kept quiet at first and just when you were sure he wouldn’t respond, he started to talk. His voice was low and rough so you had to lean forward to listen.

“My last tour, we were doing some nasty shit. I mean the kind you will have to face in your dreams every night for the rest of your life. And as I was getting out, I was approached by someone who saw something in me.” He paused here and chuckled mirthlessly. “Now maybe what he saw was an orphaned boy who joined up to make something of himself and still felt like he wasn’t good enough. Either way, he had me. Hook, line, and sinker.”

So he told you the rest; about Frank Castle and the video, the company he ran with blood money and the jobs he and his men took on the side. He even told you about the sting operation, the federal agents. That brought up your next question.

“That Homeland Security agent, Madani, said you brutally murdered her partner. You said it was self defense, that you just wanted Frank and the sting was set up so you had to fight your way out, but what you did to him wasn’t self defense.”

You had read a snippet of a report on what had happened to the agent, the number of stab wounds he suffered and how long it would have taken him to die. Madani had given a statement that she had held him while he died but that he hadn’t been able to speak, just coughed up blood.

Billy looked away the moment you had said Madani’s name and you waited for him to talk. The moments passed and you felt your heart thud painfully in your chest at the conflicting emotions on his face as the seconds drew out.

“That one was personal, I’m afraid. There are certain buttons of mine that he just pushed. Plus he had seen my face. He was going to tell Madani.”

Something in his tone felt off and you tried to figure it out in your head first.

Maybe they would recognize his face because of Anvil? Except you worked in a hall of records and while you’d seen his name a few times, you had never seen his pictures of him in those releases. So how would the now dead agent know who it was to be able to tell Madani? And why did it matter if he told Madani instead of, say, everyone?

The agent in question flashed onto the screen, the interview that you watched playing once more. You glanced at Billy’s face and for a brief moment you could almost see through the cracks in his mask.

“Oh,” you breathed out softly. Billy turned to face you and his eyes grew wide at the realization that you’d figured him out.

“Y/N,” he began warily but you shook your head, body tense as you leaned away from him. He shook his head as if he could stop your mind but you plowed ahead.

“You were with her? Romantically, I mean. You used her.”

The question of him using you was left unsaid but very prominent. 

Before you could blink, Billy was up and kneeling in front of you. You tried to shrink back, wary now rather than scared, but he grabbed your hands and held you still. 

“Dinah sought me out, okay? She was digging because of that goddman video and my name came up as serving with Frank. She used me first and sure, maybe there was something for a minute, but it wasn’t like what you’re thinking.” At your nod of understanding he lightly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I’m not using you. If you want me to leave, I’m gone. I never wanted to upset you. Honestly when the shit hit the fan, you were the only person I thought I could go to.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and then made a decision. You adjusted your hands and when he started to pull away, you flipped your hands and grasped his fingers tightly in yours. His eyes grew wide once more and he squeezed your hands in return.

“I have one more question.”

Part 5

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic

[weird-aunt-writing]

Parasite pt. 2 (Orion x MC)

Book: Starship Promise

Pairing: Orion x MC (Juliette)

Word Count: 1591

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Eventually I come to again and I try to sit up but my hand flies up to hold my head when it immediately starts throbbing in pain. “Oww…” I whine quietly and then I notice Dr. Hensen look over at me from across the room.

“Take it easy Ms. Adams, you fell pretty hard,” she instructs as she comes over with pain medicine and a glass of water in hand.

I graciously accept the water and the medicine and then sit there for a few minutes longer, waiting for the thrubbing to subside. Once it does I feel it get replaced by the gentle hum of the ship flying through space. “How long have I been out? Did we leave that colony? Are you coming with us? Where are we going?” a hundred questions suddenly fight to be spoken and the doctor quiets me with a soft chuckle and raises her hand in a stop motion.

“You’ve only been asleep for a few hours. After you fainted I told the rest of your crew what I suspected, minus the captain of course,” she begins explaining. “Mr. Molniya was more than skeptical, but Ms. Nova agreed and I think that was enough to at least convince him to try. Mr. Silva thought the whole idea was ‘pretty cool’.”

Her features screwed up in an expression of exactly what she thought  of Jaxon’s estimation of the situation.

“Regardless they all agreed I should remain on board until the situation is resolved, even if just to keep an eye on Mr. Akatsuki and make sure the creature doesn’t begin to harm his body,” she answered, and then ran through a quick set of questions and tests to see if I was okay after my fall too.

“So..did you just leave your patients behind?” I ask after she’s finished, hoping it doesn’t sound rude. I didn’t know much about health care but taking off on a starship while you had patients waiting on a colony seemed like a bad idea.

She chuckled again and shook her head at me. “I’m a contracted, private healthcare provider. Meaning being hired by starship captains to care for their crew is my usual job. This just happens to be a rather....unusual crew in an unusual situation.”

I nod quietly, mulling over the new information until another questions surfaces. “How did we get Orion to agree to this?”

“Well obviously he knows that he’s lost some memories, since each member of the crew has supported your story and, well, the calendar usually doesn’t lie,” she answers with a grin. “The rest of your crew convinced him that Antares had more information on this creature and that to get his memories back we’ll need their research. So, either Orion is really just experiencing amnesia and agrees or…”

“Or?” I ask curiously.

The doctor then sits down in a chair across from me, and her expression takes a very somber turn. “I believe it is more likely that the creature simply wants to be able to destroy these weapons you used against it, and whatever information they may have. If that’s the case we will need to be very careful once we are on his brother’s ship.”

I nod slowly, the pieces of what she’s suggesting coming together in my head. Orion will have to be under watch constantly while we’re on Antares’s ship to make sure that he...that it didn’t get its hands on anything risky.

“Now, I know you just woke up but I suggest you get something to eat and try to get some sleep, we’ll be entering the night cycle soon and you and I will have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

I nod again and stand, about to leave the room, when suddenly I turn back and throw my arms around the doctor. “Thank you, I don’t know if any other doctor would have just jumped in with us on this. I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell her, and then release her from the hug, my face slightly flushed knowing that I just hugged an almost complete stranger. Something about her presence was just comforting enough to make her feel like I’ve known her all my life.

Dr. Hensen’s soft expression when I step back seems to say that she didn’t mind at least, “of course dear. You might not remember me but I worked on your colony many years ago. Your parents and I become good friends, I’m more than happy to help their daughter.”

Or well, maybe I just actually had known her for a long time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you Dr. Hensen!” I say, suddenly feeling very guilty.

“It’s alright, you were quite a bit younger. I’m happy to see you grew up to be such a remarkable young woman,” she answers softly, a true smile on her face. “Now shoo, I’m too far gone for beauty sleep but you still need it.” “Yes ma’am!” I answer with a grin and a mock salute.

I leave the room and my happy mood quickly falls as I realize I automatically headed for mine and Orion’s room. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by trying to share the same bed, but I wouldn’t kick him out either. Instead, I redirected towards the lounge and found one of our well-worn couches to curl up on for the night.

After a long couple of hours of staring at the ceiling, tormented by my own thoughts, I finally managed to fall asleep.

I wake up sometime later with a blanket draped over me and a pillow under my head, and I briefly wonder how they got there. The darkness of the room tells me we’re still in the ship’s night cycle and as my eyes adjust to the low lighting I see a burly shape sitting in the chair across from me, their head resting on their hand but not quite looking asleep.

“Atlas?” I call out quietly, and the shape lifts their head enough for me to confirm that it is him.

“Hey...you looked cold and uncomfortable so…” he says and nods his head towards the blanket laying over me. Ah, so that’s where it came from.

I nod my thanks and close my eyes to try and fall back asleep again. No one speaks for a few long minutes, but I don’t think either of us actually sleep, until I break the silence again. “Do think it’s true?”

“The Doc’s theory?” Atlas asks as he lifts his head to look at me again. He stares at me for a long while before he sighs and his feature melt into an expression of the exhaustion I’m sure we’re both feeling. “I don’t know kid. The idea that the Cap’s...infected by this thing is probably the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Atlas is quiet again so long after that I think he’s going to leave it there until he adds, “but ever since you brought your happy little rear onto this ship it’s been one strange son-of-a-gun after another. Plus the Doc’s got the degree to back it up. So we’re sure as hell gonna try whatever idea she cooks up.”

Comforted by Atlas’s words I let my eyes close and finally drift back to sleep.

“Hey kid, we’re here.”

I’m woken to Atlas’s voice calling over the intercom in the lounge and it takes me a minute to realize what “here” means. The massive Empire ship taking up the full view of the window in the room cleared that up right quick for me.

I give myself a quick sniff and decide on a change of clothes before meeting with Antares. This outfit was on day 3 and I wasn’t in the market to give anyone any more ammunition against me.

Although I personally believed that your fiance forgetting who you are was a pretty good excuse for not keeping up appearances.

Without thinking I make my way to our-- to Orion’s room and walk in without knocking first. The door slides open to reveal Orion still in his underwear and I don’t think much of it until he hastily moves to cover himself and then I slap both hands over my eyes.

“I’m sorry! I- I wasn’t even thinking! Oh god!” I ramble, my face burning hot with shame. For all intents and purposes Orion just had a total stranger walk in on him half naked. That thought just made me even sadder in addition to the embarrassment. “I just came to get a clean change of clothes.”

“Ahem...it’s- it’s alright. By all means,” Orion clears his throat loudly before answering. When I slowly bring my hands down from my face I see he’s already quickly dressed himself, and I feel another pang of guilt at the uncomfortable expression he wears. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he adds and carefully steps past me out of the room.

I wanted so badly to be supportive through all this, even if it was only temporary, but if I keep accidentally forcing myself on him...

If this is real and Orion has to get to know me all over again...would he come to like me now? Or am I always going to be the awkward, forgotten memory?

That thought makes me truly breakdown. I find the whale Orion gave me for our first Valentine’s day and sink to the floor with it in my arms, letting the soft plush absorb my tears while I shake with sobs.

#starship promise #orion akatsuki #orion x mc #orion akatsuki x mc #lorelei hensen #parasite #lovestruck #the last section made me cry #also i loved writing that interaction between Atlas and MC #my writing

[crasherfly]

Weekly Update

It’s never enough.

Be it progress in a hobby, pages written, reps in a workout, miles run, dollars spent at local businesses, weight lost and gained back, video games completed or personal apologies issued to people I’ve been too brisk with online- the prevailing theme of 2020 has been IT’S NOT ENOUGH.

This is, on its face, ridiculous. We are in a pandemic. Whatever reservations you might have about the virus, the fact is economically, we will be in dire straits for some time. Surviving should be enough. Thriving should be considered a rare bonus.

Even so, this December, I’ve struggled a great deal with feeling like I’m bringing “enough” to the table in anything I do. If I play a video game, I lament that I’m not good enough at it. If I write, I mourn the words that go unwritten. In my friendships, I fixate on small arguments that I drew myself into, or a harsh word I shouldn’t have said, worried over their long-term impact. There’s a dozen anime shows I haven’t finished. I have a script that needs pages, an end of year anime blog that needs writing. I keep skipping meditation sessions and forgetting to brush my teeth. The NBA season starts tomorrow- will I watch it to have something to talk to other folks about, or will I settle into something easier to fill the time? 

Time.

I have nothing but time. I’m off until January 5th. I’ve had more time off this entire year than I’ve had any year since college. I tell myself this means I should be doing something remarkable, and yet, with more and more time off, I find I’m just doing the same things I would normally do- just in bigger quantity.

My therapist tells me it’s cuz I grew up in a home where praise was hard won- if ever given. Growing up with this deficit, it is only natural that I’d rarely feel like anything is “enough”- and blame myself when I feel lacking.

We’re still working on a solution for it.

I do know there are Good Things that I have accomplished this year. I made new friends. I became more knowledgeable about my hobbies. I picked up some new healthy habits- running, kettlebells, core workouts. I lost a little weight. I disconnected from the violently angry media sources that had wormed their way into my brain since my Gawker days. I got out of a little debt. I developed a more positive relationship with alcohol. I got to therapy. I’m becoming more comfortable with speaking truth to how I feel, instead of burying my feelings.

I still fail in many things. I have a laundry list of moments I failed this week to review with my therapist. I’m still not in a place where I can be a functional adult while also working a full time job.  I have lost friends this year because I am a hard person to endure. I have had to issue more apologies this year than perhaps in any year prior. And the people who know me best would still point out, rightly, that I sound like a very different person in online public spaces than I do privately.

As 2020 comes to a close, I’m thinking about the theme I want to bring into 2021- and my 32nd year on this globe. And I think the theme I want to embrace is vulnerability, which is, ironically, the theme I struggle the most with in my personal life. I am, by nature, a secretive person- reclusive, even. Without getting into a whole Thing here, I would just say “meet my parents” and you’d get why. This shit’s been wired into me.

But as I look back on many of my issues the past year- my breakowns and spirals, the arguments, the friends lost and stresses placed on my loved ones- so much could have been avoided if I was willing to just explain what was going on in my life.

I don’t mean the long stylized depression posts I was doing back in August. Those are helpful to a point, but they don’t actually drive toward a conclusion. I mean talking about how I feel in plain terms, and explaining the pressures that lead to those feelings.

‘Cuz I think we can all agree that after almost a full year of relating to each other almost exclusively through cynical tweets and mirthless retweets that we as humans are desperately deficient in nuance- an ingredient essential to understanding each other in actual human contexts. And the only way for nuance to be understood is to speak plainly and directly to one another.

I’m going to try and do more of that in 2021. Here’s hoping the results are good.

So lets talk some vidya games and anime, yeah?

Vidya Games

BlazBlue: Centralfiction and BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle (SWITCH)

Arc Systems was having a switch sale. I’d enjoyed my time with Guilty Gear and noticed the BlazBlue series was relatively cheap, so I picked them up. I’d seen some of the fighters on Spriteclub before, so I was excited to expand my fighting game knowledge a bit further.

BlazBlue is a 2d fighting game that uses drawn sprite fighters. The effect is a beautiful anime more reminiscent of Street Fighter or King of Fighters, but with modern mechanics that make them feel more approachable. The rosters are huge and the individual fighters varied. There’s a full “episodes” mode, as well as plenty of options for training and tutorials.

Of the two games, Cross Tag seems like the easier to pick up. I’m a sucker for tag systems so that one is an easier sell for me. It’s also fun to see the crew from Persona 4 on the roster, not to mention RWBY. 

Centralfiction seems to be more mechanics focused, but also includes a “stylish” mode that plays like Capcom Vs. SNK 2′s EO mode, where supers and command list moves are tied to single buttons instead of complex commands, allowing you to see everything a character can do without being stuck in hours of practice. I’m still trying to learn those damn quarter circle moves, but it’s a nice fallback option for moments where I’m not looking to exhaust my brain and thumbs.

Mario Maker 2 (SWITCH)

I’ve built three levels in the last week for Super Mario Maker 2. One I built during a work meeting, the other two I did as morning exercises over coffee. They’ve all been moderately played since and feature clear rates over 25%, so I’ll consider them a success.

I’ve uploaded over 40 courses to SMM2 since its release. That’s far more than I ever uploaded with the first game. I think Nintendo missed some big opportunities to make this game a centerpiece for the Switch. I also think the diehard fans got in their own way (designing courses on your tv is honestly not that hard- in fact, I prefer it to the portable option now). But overall, I do think that SMM2 is a success- at least for casual fans like me who value standard level design and ease of access.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

My gaming has been somewhat hampered by the sudden implosion of my Samsung television, which houses my XBONE and Switch. About a week ago it shut down and began to flicker on and off. I unplugged it overnight and powered it on the next day to find a long black horizontal line across the panel and discoloration beneath the line. A call in to Samsung confirmed my fears- it was a wire defect and would require extensive service work. Because of the pandemic, it would take at least a few weeks before the part could make it.

The TV is still usable, so that’s a relief. I’m not dwelling on it much. Samsung was easy to deal with and they’ve promised this will come at no cost to me. There are many worse things happening in the world, so this is an easy thing to let roll off my shoulders now that I know what the solution is.

I also MIGHT have a Series X. Key  word is MIGHT because I technically got my order in on the 18th, but Gamestop has yet to actually send a confirmation e-mail. However my order number appears valid and does pull up a processing page on their site, so I’m going to hang tight. I ended up pulling the trigger on a massive bundle that includes a very expensive headset and a second controller...as well as a copy of Assassin’s Creed. I can’t emphasize enough how NOT the primary audience I am for AC. However, I doubt I could pay anyone to take it off my hands at this point...so...whatever. At least there’s a chance I’ll have the new system.

My final bit of news on the technical front- I returned Cyberpunk 2077. I have zero regrets. Microsoft processed my refund in about 15 minutes without issue. I was on XBONE and yes, I tried the 1.4 update. Frankly, the update did seem to improve matters, but not so much as to be a game changer. And as I wrestled with the conundrum of powering through, or shelving the game in hopes of a future update that would magically fix everything, I finally opted to take the third option- and get off this damn train at the first possible stop. I will play Cyberpunk 2077 someday. Hopefully, when that day comes, this whole mess will be somewhat resolved.

ANIME

Jujutsu Kaisen

Season 1 has officially earned a “this show is straight fire” tweet from me. It’s just so good. The fights are thrilling. The emotional investment is real. The cast is outstanding. The design is imaginative, moody and the prettiest direction to behold this side of Fire Force.

Do yourself a favor and give this show a shot. It’s my top recommendation for the winter.

No Guns Life

I’ve almost wrapped the first half of season 1. This lovely noir continues to impress as its world unfolds. It is sure to please those itching for a cyberpunk or technoir story. The overall story still feels a bit unfocused, but I’m not minding too much. No Guns Life is one of those worlds that’s just a joy to be a part of, even when we’re unsure what its driving at.

END OF YEAR LISTS

Tis the season for LISTS. Oh man, so many lists.

I’ll be focusing my 2020 end of year stuff on anime and video games this year, because of course. I’ll also talk a little about media I’ve been enjoying. It’ll be a whole THING, either here or on wordpress.

But here’s a quick preview for those who are a bit curious about what titles I’ll be visiting for my Top Experiences list. Bear in mind that these are not confined to 2020 releases- this is purely about what I as a person dabbled in this year. Here’s what you can expect me to touch on in my end of year post :)

Games

Crusader Kings III Call of Duty: Warzone Yakuza 0 The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel Fighting Games (genre) Consoles Oculus Quest 2 NEO-GEO Arcade Stick Pro Anime

Re:Zero - Starting Life in Another World Gleipnir Jujutsu Kaisen No Guns Life Kaguya-sama: Love is War DECA-DENCE Tower of God

Manga

Berserk Fruits Basket

Tabletop

Dungeons and Dragons 5E: The Lost Mines of Phandelver/Ghosts of Saltmarsh

Streaming

Spriteclub Gawr Gura/Hololive WWE Network

Lifestyle

Kotatsus Sake

Music

Nightcore (genre) Personal Projects Alice and the Pale Horse (script) Legos (various sets) Like I said, this is gonna be a big ol’ THING. But I can’t wait to share it with you all :D

[such-a-common-girl]

“Irresistible” Chapter 5 Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 2,886

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, oral sex (fem. receiving), fluff, gun use, threats of being shot, angst

a/n: omg im sorry it took me forever to get this chapter out but ITS WORTH IT I PROMISE

ch. 1  ch. 2   ch. 3  ch. 4  

“Oh my, fuck,” You moan out, tangling your hands in Dean’s hair as he moves his tongue up and down your clit.

“Dean, yes,” You start to roll your hips. Dean grabs on to your thighs to hold you down, flicking his tongue at a faster pace. You can feel the familiar heat rising up in your lower area, indicating that your orgasm is near. You bring your hand up to your breasts, playing with your nipple as Dean now enters two fingers inside of you as well.

The pleasure is almost too much to handle. He really knows what he is doing.

“I’m coming, oh god, yes,” You yell out, and release yourself over him. Dean gets up from between your thighs, a smile plastered on his face.

“I will never get tired of this.” Dean smirks, bringing himself up on top of you.

It’s only seven in the morning, but Dean recently has been waking you up more often than not quite pleasurably. Whether it be sex or him eating you out like you’re candy, mornings have proven to be amazing with this man.

Lately, Dean’s been staying at your house while he was in town, which was not very often anymore. He basically moved in- he even has a key to the house and extra clothes for when he stays over. He’s been extremely busy with work lately, so anytime he had at home, he spent it with you. Whether that be at your house, or out going on dates, you’re spending almost all of your time together.

You love him, you know this. Who couldn’t love this man? He’s perfect in every way possible. He’s treated you better than any man has ever treated you before. You know there are things about his past that he is keeping from you, but you know that it’s for a reason. Ever since that talk you two had a few months ago, you haven’t brought it up since. He’ll tell you whenever he is ready.

“Don’t go to work today.” Dean breathes out, lying down next to you in bed. His hand is playing with your hair, and his other hand was rubbing circles on your stomach.

“If I miss another day of work to stay at home and have sex with you, I think my boss will fire me.” You laugh. “She’s lenient, but not that much.”

“Baby, one more day and I won’t ask again. I have to leave tomorrow morning with Sam and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I’ll have to stay at my house tonight since we’re leaving early. I’ll come over after you get off but that’s not nearly enough time to do to you what I want.” Dean whines.

“Why don’t you skip work this time, huh?” You tease, knowing very well that he can’t. “Actually be home for more than a week at a time.”

“Would if I could, but I’ve got people to save.” Dean smiles, kissing your forehead. “Vampires are nasty sons of bitches.”

“I’m sorry?” You give Dean a look, pulling away from him slightly.

Did he just say vampires?

“It was a joke.” Dean says quickly, panic spreading throughout his face. “Sometimes we, uh, we call criminal ‘vampires’. You know, because they normally only commit crimes at night. FBI lingo, sorry. Sometimes I forget you’re not… one of us.” A weak smile crosses his face.

“You agents are odd.” You laugh. “I’m still not calling in to work, though.”

“Damn.” Dean groans, and pulls you closer to him.

“I’m going to be late if I don’t get out of bed now. I need to shower still.” You say, but don’t make any effort to move yourself out of Dean’s grasp.

“I’ll only let you go if I can shower with you.”

~

“So, tell me about this man of yours. Dean, right?” Your coworker, another nurse named Amanda, asks you from across the nurse’s station. You two were both on your lunch break, and since she was the only other nurse you really talked to, you two usually spent yours together. You would even go as far as considering the two of you friends.

“Yeah, Dean. He’s great.” You admit, taking a bite of your sandwich. “He’s so sweet, Mandy. He brought me flowers the other day. He claimed he wasn’t the romantic type, but he’s surely contradicting himself.”

“I just think it’s the cutest thing ever that you’re his first actual girlfriend and he’s, what, thirty nine?” Amanda raises her eyebrows. “And by that picture you showed me of him, he’s a fuckin’ catch. You seemed to tie down the player, huh?”

“I suppose.” You shrug. “We’re not exactly official, I guess. He promised me that he’s not with any other girls, but that he just needed time. He’s got a lot of baggage, I guess.”

“You two have been seeing each other for almost six months now, and you aren’t official? And you haven’t met his brother or his friends? Or been to his house? Or know anything about his personal life?” She frowns. “That doesn’t make you nervous?”

“No, I trust him. He’s genuine, and he’s truthful. He told me how it was and was honest with me from the beginning, and assured me that he just needed time. I trust him.” You repeat. You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince Amanda or yourself.

“I wish I had the same amount of trust in my man as you do. If Chris was out constantly for work, days at a time, I’d surely be afraid that he was cheating on me.” Amanda sighs. “But I’m glad that you can trust him.”

You smile at her, choosing not to respond. The thought has crossed your mind, but like you said, you trust him. He wouldn’t lie to you, right?

You finish up your sandwich and throw your trash away just in time for your lunch break to be over. Only six more hours until you can see Dean. Seven couldn’t come soon enough.

“Good luck with your patient in thirty seven, he was an asshole to me the entire time you were on break.” Another nurse, Nia, says to you.

“Yeah, should’ve warned you, he’s-“

“EVERYONE PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” A man comes up to the desk, dressed in black and with a black ski mask covering his face, holding a handgun towards you three.

Fear instantly sinks into your chest, and your heart begins to race. Out of instinct, you reach your hand to the red “emergency” button on your desk that alerted security to come.

You raise your hands up in the air, backing away from the man. You feel like crying, you’re so afraid, but you refuse. You don’t want to show the man holding a gun at you that you’re afraid.

“Where is Johnathan Lee?” He screamed, shaking the gun and making you jump. “I know he’s a fucking patient here, where the fuck is he? If you don’t tell me, I will shoot you.”

“There is no Johnathan Lee here.” Your voice comes out shaky. You hope that he can’t tell that you’re lying. There was, in fact, a Johnathan Lee here. He was the patient that came in on a drug overdose. But you weren’t going to let him get shot. “He got transferred out of this unit yesterday.”

“You’re a fucking liar! I’m giving you one more chance to tell me before I shoot.” He cocks his head at you, and you begin to panic.

“I told you, he was transferred yesterday.”

A gunshot rung out in the air, and you swear you could feel it barely miss you. It hit the cabinet behind you, and you were right- it just barely missed you.

“Put the gun down!” A police officer yells. You look over to him, and an entire team of officers were coming in. The armed man pointed the gun towards the officers, and suddenly it was a standoff.

“Put the gun down, now.” Another officer says. “We know who you are. So just put down the gun, and no one is going to get hurt.”

After some thinking, the man puts down the gun. You breathe a sigh of relief, a weight lifted off your chest. You’ve never genuinely thought you might die before.

The officers immediately put the man in cuffs, and take him out. They question you some, but you’re too shaken up to remember any of the conversation. You remember that they vaguely told you something about more people coming in to ask you questions.

“You can go home, Y/N. You deserve it.” Your boss comes up to you, patting your shoulder and handing you a glass of water. “Amanda and Nia went home hours ago.”

“Police told me to stay here. Said people would be coming to ask me more questions.” You say, taking a drink of the water she gave you.

As if on que, a man and a woman wearing FBI uniforms come up to you and your boss. You instantly remember Dean, and are desperate to go home and see him. You need to see him right now.

“FBI.” They show you their badges. “Are you Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”

They go through some questions, things you presumed were the standard ones they must ask. You gathered from them that the man who came in here was a drug dealer who had sold to the patient that he came in to kill. The patient apparently didn’t pay him, and he was coming after revenge.

“We’re sorry you had to experience this, Miss. Is there anyone we can call for you to come pick you up? It’s helpful to have loved ones around you after a traumatizing experience like this.” The male agent tells you, sympathy in his eyes.

“Um, yeah. My… My boyfriend works for the FBI? Out of the office downtown? His name is Dean Winchester, can you call him for me? I forgot my phone at home this morning.” You say shakily.

“Give me one minute.” The man nods, and walks down the hallway.

You stand beside your chair in silence, waiting for the agent to return. He looks over at you, and calls his partner over to him. You start to get worried, and you walk over there to him.

“Is something wrong?” You question.

“Are you sure your boyfriend works out of this office here?” The woman says.

“I’m positive.”

“Um… There is not a Dean Winchester that works at our office, ma’am. I just searched our entire list of employees and he is not listed for our city, or anywhere in Kansas for that matter.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“Look again.” You say after a few moments of silence.

“Ma’am, I looked twice already, he isn’t-“

“Look again.” You snap. The tears are already threatening to spill from your eyes, and this time, they might win.

You knew Dean was keeping things from you, that wasn’t a secret. But blatantly lying about his job? You can’t do this. Not today.

“He’s not listed.” The female agent says again.

“Thank you for your time.” You walk away from them, stomping over to the workers longue to grab your purse so you can leave.

As soon as you get into the room, you fall onto the floor and start crying. You can’t hold in it any longer. What has Dean told you that is the truth? Was it all a lie?

~

Tonight was the night.

It’s the night that Dean was finally going to make it official. He was going to ask you to be his, one hundred percent. You would officially be his girlfriend.

He wasn’t ready to tell you the full truth yet- no. Not because he doesn’t want to tell you (okay, maybe he doesn’t- it does make him look utterly psycho if you were to not believe him), but because you weren’t ready for that. He was doing it for your own good.

But a relationship? Fuck, Dean wanted that with you so badly. He tried to put this off as long as possible, trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t work. That he can’t do this with you. But the more time he’s spending with you, the more he realizes how much he cares for you. It was only this morning that Dean realized that he loved you. When he genuinely wanted to spend the entire day with you, and not just for sex (although that was in the plan as well.) He knew that his feelings were growing stronger by the day for you, but that confirmed it for him. He loves you.

He was going to tell you that tonight, too.

Dean has it all set out. He was going to take you out to the diner that he had taken you to on your first date, even order the same thing. Then he was going to take you back to your house and watch The Walking Dead with you, because he knows how much you love that show and you’re always trying to get him to watch it with you.

He didn’t exactly have a set time for when he was going to tell you he loved you, but he figured it would come out at some point during the night.

Dean loves you, and he’ll do anything to show that to you.

“Of course she forgot her phone here.” Dean rolls his eyes as he walks into your house, seeing you weren’t home yet. “I hope she gets here soon.”

~

You have no idea how you got home without getting into a car accident.

Your mind was running wild, and tears were clouding your vision. You weren’t paying attention to the road one bit.

“Fuck.” You curse when you see Dean’s impala in your driveway. He was the last person you wanted to see right now. You had already called your sister to see if she could come stay with you for a while, or vice versa- you just wanted to get away from everything for a while.

You park your car, getting out and walking to your door. You walk inside to see Dean playing with your dog, acting like everything is good in the world.

“Hey- woah, what’s wrong?” Dean gets up, rushing over to you.

“I had an… interesting day at work.” You fake smile at him.

“Bad?”

“We’ll get to that later. I wanna hear about your day at work. What’d you do?” You ask him, and he’s obviously startled by the question. Asking him about his job was typically off limits, since everything he did was ‘top secret’ and he could get fired if he told anyone, or at least that’s what he told you.

“It was a pretty slow day, just did some paperwork. Nothing much.” Dean says slowly. “You’re freaking me out, tell me what’s wrong.”

“So, nothing happen today, huh? No bad guys to catch?”

“Like I said, it was a slow day. Everyone stayed around the office for the most part.”

“Hm. Interesting.” You say, setting your purse down on the floor and walking past him. “Let me tell you about my day at work. It was going great, until a man came in and shot at me.”

“What the fuck-“

“Let me finish.” You snap. “He missed. Obviously. The FBI came in to question me, though. Wanna know what I learned from them? That you’re not an agent! How fucking weird is that?”

“Y/N, I can explain-“

“Oh, I would love to hear this explanation.” You snort. “Let me guess- it’s complicated? I wouldn’t understand? You have a lot of baggage? Well, here’s the thing- I’m over that. I’m tired of the secrecy, and apparently, the lies as well! I fucking love you, you know that? I thought you might love me too, but you obviously don’t.”

“No, no, no, Y/N, I love you, too. So goddamn much. Please just let me-“

“Tell me everything. Now. Or I’m done.”

“I can’t, fuck, Y/N, please just trust me…”

“You lost your trust. So, if you’re not going to tell me, get out of my fucking house.”

Dean looks at you, hurt filling his eyes. You’re hurt, too. You want to just burst out crying, you love Dean so much. Ever since you first met him. But you can’t do this, not unless you get the truth from him.

He just shakes his head and walks out the door, slamming it behind him. You fall to your knees in front of the door, letting the tears fall out once more. He left. He chose his secrets and lies over you.

But little did you know, Dean was still at the other side of the door, tears falling down his face, too.

~

Ch. 6

a/n: ok ok ok ok ok ok please don’t hate me I promise it will get better like omfg im sorry but i promise!

TAG LIST: @maximoffangel-girl @captainradicalpassion @enyacascade @maybe-a-winchester @i-just-wanna-live-gc

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