#okay but I was aiming for a hopeful ending to help soothe my anxiety so there's that?

[yuyupowers]

aristocrat!yunho

aristocrat!yunho x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

trigger warning(s): description of an anxiety attack, brief description of death, memory loss. let me know if there’s anything else!

author’s note: i swear this wasn’t supposed to be this long sdkjflds

none of the pictures are mine!

for reference, i’m using british peerage (hierarchy). there are five ranks: baron, viscount, earl (count), marquess, and duke - the highest being duke, and the lowest, baron.

eldest son of a duke

okay, so

among nobility, the jeon family are well respect but considered to be a bit,,,eccentric

they adhere to all the social expectations expected amongst nobles, but their attitude towards non-nobility is what sets them apart

though most noble families are polite when interacting with non-nobility, they generally try to keep their distance; avoid their company, if possible

not the jeong’s 

it wasn’t unusual to see duchess jeong knitting in her tea room with maids, merchant’s wives, or whoever else wanted to come

to see gunho running around with his friends, a pack of street urchins, low, and middle class children

to see yunho in the market helping one of the many older couples haul their cart into place

his family had managed to find the delicate balance of being “normal” enough not to suffer social ostracization, yet “odd” enough for people to dismiss their “peculiar actions” as “typical jeong behaviour”

now, onto the loml yunho

perfect gentleman pt. 2

extremely charming and a great conversationalist

no matter how awkward or shy the other party may be, yunho has this way to draw them out of their shell

(just ask mingi)

excels physical and hands-on activities (i.e. hunting, horseback riding, swordsmanship, etc,,,)

average in terms of book smarts

so while wasn’t about to lead the next technological revolution, he wasn’t “stupid” either

rather, i’d argue that yunho’s brilliant in non-traditional ways

his quick wit and ability to think on his feet is part of his charm

but his greatest strengths are his observational skills and emotional intelligence

able to discern people’s emotional state easily and quickly

he’s someone who’s kind, bright, and genuinely cares about other people’s problems (sometimes a little too much)

a natural leader - people tend to flock towards him

between him and mingi (who despite not acting like it, is extremely book smart), they’ve got all bases covered

(+ yunho’s willingness in using unconventional methods to gather information)

that’s actually how he met you

or rather, “found” seems more appropriate

see, he has an excellent rapport with the street children

being six foot one and offering shoulder rides does wonders

and because he wants to stay updated on what problems the people around him are dealing with, he gets the children to “report” to him if they find or hear anything unusual

(the children are more than eager to play spy, especially when there’s candy involved)

one day while taking a stroll, one of his kids ran up to him totally out of breath

he wheezed something about a “mysterious lady” before grabbing yunho’s hand and dragging leading him to an alley quite far away

to say he was surprised was an understatement

most of the time, his kids brought amusing but mostly useless information to him

(even if he is more than content listening about the cute squirrel they fed earlier that day)

usually they didn’t lead him to an unconscious woman lying in the middle of an empty alley

(yes, that’s you)

hurrying to your side, he drops down and checks to see if you’re alive

other than being unconscious and getting some dirt in your hair and on your clothes, you seemed to be okay

gingerly scooping you into his arms, he tells the little boy to fetch the doctor and bring him to the jeong manor

fast forward a couple hours and you’re roused from your unconscious state by the sharp smell of ammonia mixed with lavender

blearily, you rub your eyes and blink once, twice, before your vision finally clears

then panic

you don’t recognize where you are or the two faces that hover by your bedside

sensing your anxiety, yunho smiles warmly speaks in a soothing tone

“hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re in a safe place. my name’s yunho and this is dr. adley. i found you unconscious in an alley.”

and though you’re very confused and still mildly unnerved, you can tell this yunho guy is genuine

“,,,okay.”

so you settle into the (extremely comfortable) four poster bed and let the doctor examine you

except now it’s time for panic pt.2, but ten times worse because why the hell can’t you remember anything?!

you can’t even remember your own g*d damned name !!

to make things worse, there doesn’t seem to be a reason why you can’t remember anything

no bumps or injuries anywhere on your body

and chances of a robbery gone wrong, a kidnapping, or a failed assassination attempt were very unlikely since you were dressed in commoner’s clothes

disquieted by your alarm and the doctor’s confusion, yunho slips out of the room and returns after several minutes

the doctor, offering apologies to both you and yunho, says he has no idea what’s wrong or what could’ve happened to you

all he can suggest is to rest and hope that your memories eventually come back to you

your burry your face into your hands, a whirlwind of frustration, confusion, and fear brewing in you

apparently nobody, including yourself: 

knows who you are, 

where you came from, 

why you were unconscious, 

and why you lost your memories

to top it off, you have no money

.

…

just when you were about to idk,,,scream and/or punch something-

you feel two large hands engulfing yours, lowering them from your face

taking a seat on the edge of bed, yunho offers a faint smile as he idly traces lines from your wrists to your fingertips

a surprisingly soothing gesture

“,,,i know you’re overwhelmed right now, but please don’t feel as if you have to do this on your own. i talked to my mum and dad; you can stay here until either someone finds you or your memories return. in the meantime, we’ll help you out as much as we can, yeah?”

and though you’re in no position to argue, your first instinct is to decline because though you’re amnesiatic, you still have common sense

what kind of family, wealthy or not (actually, especially wealthy), lets a complete stranger stay in their house?

do these people have no sense of danger?

but yunho is as stubborn as he is kind, and this was how you ended up staying with the jeong’s

(you insist on working to earn your stay, much to yunho’s dismay. in his head, unless it helped in recovering their memories or, unfortunately, was necessary for survival, who would make an amnesiac work?)

the first couple of days were awkward

duke and duchess jeong had briefed everyone in the manor about your situation, but when making casual conversation, lapses in memory and uncomfortable silences were inevitable

“oh, i adore this purple! hey, what’s your favourite colour?”

“,,,i uh,,, don’t know.”

“,,,i’m so sorry-”

but awkward has never a problem for yunho, and you quickly grew fond of the gentle giant

“since we don’t know your name, can i call you little sun? since i found you on a sunny day and you’re little-”

“yunho, not everyone can be six feet tall”

“six one, actually”

“,,,”

true to his word, he does his best to help you recover your memories

roped mingi into helping

when you finished your tasks for the day, he’d bring you to all sorts of places, trying all sorts of things

on a hunting trip with yungi, you discovered that: a) you’re proficient in horseback riding, b) you have astounding aim, and c) you’re surprisingly agile

yunho, who’s always been penchant towards athleticism, was delighted to have someone to compete with

mingi just grumbled. sure he was clumsy, but how did someone with no memory beat him?

while helping the gardener, you found out that you have a rather extensive knowledge of flora

yunho jokingly (kinda) suggested that maybe you were a huntress

mingi bombarded you with questions and quizzes about plants

find out what kind of plant you are by decorating your dream room

hoping that you’d run into someone or somewhere familiar, yunho would take on walks all over the city

during your walks, you learned that you preferred nighttime (while he preferred the day), that you found solace in being alone (while he preferred company), that you liked sweet things (while he preferred chips)

a month,

two,

six months passed liked this

you made progress, but you couldn’t stop the bitterness from bubbling in your chest; negativity spreading through your veins like toxin

sure, you consider your favourite colour to be a precious memory in its own right

but who cares about what your favourite colour is when you can’t remember your own name?

you were vexed by the fact that, at this point, you know more about yunho than yourself

even if learning about him made your heart flutter

just a little

and the nightmares

the nightmares

they drove you crazy

you never remembered what you’d dream of, but every night, without fail, you’d wake with tear stained cheeks and sweat soaked clothes

tonight was particularly bad

normally, when you woke, you’d force yourself to take several deep, calming breaths until your breathing evened, grab a glass of water, then crawl back to bed

today, you couldn’t breathe

no matter what or how hard you tried, your heart wouldn’t stop pummeling against your ribcage;

your blood wouldn’t stop rushing between your ears, creating a cacophony no one else could hear;

wave after wave of nausea would slam into your gut

your vision’s blurring

oh god

you’re gonna pass out

you’re gonna pass out and forget the memories you worked so hard to remember and all the memories you made and you’re gonna forget yunho and mingi and-

suddenly, much like the first day, two large hands engulf your own, idly tracing lines from your wrist to your fingertips

“little sun, it’s me, yunho. your yunho. focus on my hands and voice, yeah? i’m right here.”

he continues to murmur sweet nothings until finally, finally, your heart settles back in your chest, your breathing levels, and your vision clears enough to see yunho

your yunho

and in this state, one look at his kind eyes is enough for the tears you’ve been holding in all this time to spill over

because though you cry in your sleep, you never let yourself cry when you’re awake

too focused on chores, too focused on remembering, too focused on trying to get some semblance of control over this uncontrollable situation

without a word, he pulls you into his chest and runs his fingers through your sweaty hair, offering the sound of his heartbeat to anchor you back to this four poster bed when you were ready

but g*d, does it break his heart to see you cry

he expected to hear you wail, to take the brunt of your fists as you pound his chest

but he hears nothing

instead, he feels your tears soak his shirt, feels how you tremble in his arms

and that is so much worse.

it takes long minute for you to stop crying, and another for you to feel composed enough to detach yourself from yunho’s (now soggy) chest

you’re sure you look awful

puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, and a runny nose

(and you feel embarrassed that yunho witnessed your breakdown)

but he thumbs away the remaining tears from your cheeks and murmurs that he’ll be right back, returning with tissues and a glass of water 

and a new shirt

he hands you the glass of water, tosses your used tissues in the garbage, and climbs underneath your (technically his) covers, patting the space beside him

when you too find refuge in the warm blankets, he pulls you back into his chest

his arm acts as your pillow as he kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair

“wanna talk about it?”

it takes you several moments, but you eventually tell him about the negativity seeping into every inch of skin

the nightmares you never recall keeping you up at night

the irrational feeling of stupidity because you can’t remember who you are

yunho silently, attentively listens to you as you spill your heart

and if he hadn’t pulled you so close, you might’ve seen the weariness in his usually carefree features

the conflict and hollowness brewing in his normally inviting eyes

but by the time you finished talking and pulled back, the expression was gone and the familiar smile you adored so much was back in place

“tomorrow, let’s go to the place where i found you.”

a faint smile bloomed on your lips because though this wasn’t the first time you visited, it was a reminder that you weren’t alone

that no matter how the chances dwindled, yunho would remind you that it was never zero

it was hope that got you through the night

the two of you have never done anything that could be considered anything but platonic

much to mingi’s irritation

but just for tonight, yunho decides to be a little greedy

he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids, you wrists, your palms, your knuckles, your fingers

anywhere he can reach,

except for your lips

you’re emotionally exhausted and vulnerable; he’d feel like a dick if he forced a decision - especially an emotionally fraught one - onto you right now

he threads your fingers together, murmuring soft promises: you’ll remember who you were, you’ll be okay, you’ll find your way again

and you finally let the exhaustion, the steady rhythm of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the warmth and comfort that is yunho lull you to sleep

the next morning is a cold one

gusts of wind bite into your skin as you curl in on yourself, trying to preserve any remaining shred of body heat

noticing this, yunho tucks you under his arm with a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks that were definitely red because of the cold and not because he was flustered

cute

a peaceful silence falls between you two as he leads you to the alley

and since it was early, the only sounds that accompanied you was the quiet patter of your footsteps and the chirps of birds reluctant to travel south

feeling like it simultaneously took too long and not long enough, the two of you arrive

an odd smile settles on yunho’s lips

,,,was that bitterness?

“,,,here we are.”

interrupting your train of thought, he takes your hand and leads you to where he found you

g*d

you could feel it

somewhere in the back of your mind, something almost tangible was shoving its way forward

you’re so close, just a little more and-

suddenly, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down your spine

before you could understand what you were feeling, yunho shoved you behind him and parried the dagger aimed for his chest

a gruff looking man only a little shorter than he stood before him

his clothes tattered and dirty, skin littered with scars, hair and beard scraggly and matted, he looked like one of the many men that inhabited the slums

but those men were sagging skin and bones, never knowing where or if they would get a next meal

this man was muscular

and judging by the familiarity of his actions, this clearly wasn’t his first assassination 

the two men, unable to disengage, snarl as they continue to press into each other

much to your surprise, when you were about to jump into the fray, the assassin screams at you

“YOU ‘UCKING WHORE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! KILL HIM!”

big mistake

because not only is yunho clever and athletic, he’s one lucky bastard

in the brief second the assassin’s attention was diverted, yunho ducks

his weight and moment carries him forward, and he stumbles,,,right onto yunho’s blade.

yanking both his blood soaked short sword and body away from the assassin, the man crumples to the ground

but until life is drained from his eyes, he bores holes into your head, message clear: kill him

a deafening silence weighs down upon you when the man stops breathing

even the wind stills

yunho stands there, a far away look in his eyes as he grips the short sword

blood is splattered all over his hands, across his cheek

it trickles from the hilt, down the blade, and eventually drips onto the ground beneath him

snow begins to drift from the gray skies, landing on his hair, his cheeks, his eyelashes, his coat

as if trying to comfort him

as if trying to wash the blood away

and you?

you couldn’t move.

not when the floodgates had opened and a torrent of memories threatened to pull you under

you knew who you were

you were yn, born to a peasant mother who died at birth and a father that abandoned you soon after

a ghost of a person, and unknown assassin raised by an unnamed noble who resented the jeong’s for their wealth, their nobility, and their favour with the royal family despite their peculiar attitude

nothing but a tool 

a tool told that if successful, he’d grant you wealth and freedom

but that if you failed, he’d kill you himself

…

the assassin wasn’t after yunho, he was after you

a warning to finish the job, or else

…

you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking

and yunho, 

your gentle giant, yunho

envelops your hands in his, idly tracing lines from your wrist to your fingertips

there’s no comfort this time.

not when he drew lines of blood across the back of your hand, not when you searched and couldn’t read anything expect for this sad smile on his ordinarily open features

“,,,do you remember?”

“,,,”

“,,,”

“,,,”

“,,,”

“,,,you knew.”

he did.

his suspicions appeared early on, spurred by your unusually good marksmanship, agility, and uncanny knowledge of plants

specifically poisonous ones

he turned to this “unconventional” ways of gathering information

starting off with his kids,

then some trusted tclose contacts

but when nothing - and he meant a questionable amount of nothing - turned up, he left the legal sphere and delved in the underground; the black markets

yunho has people who owe him favours - people who’s debts he’s paid off, who’s fights he’s fought on their behalf 

it took a few months, but eventually he got the information he wanted

marquess yoo who openly showed his distaste for the jeong family “released his pet into the wild”

but the jeong’s were not stupid, and they were loved

when yunho’s father confided to some close acquaintances about the predicament they were facing, they took matters into their own hands

they never meant to hurt you

only to capture you and talk you out of killing, bribing you with money, protection - threats, if necessary - if you testified against marquess yoo

but somewhere along the way, things got messy 

it ended with an unconscious girl lying in the middle of an abandoned alley; three grown men running away because oh dear lord, she’s dead; and a child leading yunho straight to you

letting go of your hands, yunho goes to kneel beside the man he just killed

closing his eyes, he mutters a prayer for the (not so) poor soul who unknowingly got himself tangled in this mess, and grabs the dagger 

it feels like someone doused you in ice as yunho walks back to you

horror morphs on your face as he gently - why was he always so gentle? - wraps your fingers around the hilt and places the blade against his neck

the smile that you love so much but currently hate rests on his lips as he cups the side of your face with his free hand

his thumb idly brushes against your cheek, eyes twinkling with adoration as he drinks in every last detail of your face as if,,,

as if,,,

he’s ready to die

“no one knows we left this morning and no one knows we’re here; not even mingi. if you kill me, you’ll have enough time to collect some of your reward and run away.”

by now your hands were shaking so much that if yunho didn’t have his hand wrapped around yours, you would’ve dropped the blade

but as the snow floats down and lands in your hair, in his eye lashes, in the fog of your shared breaths, in the space between you,

here to witness a great tragedy

you both knew,

that one of you has to die.

[sunshinelikesstarwars]

Going Home

Din was quiet.

He held his helmet in his hands, unable to look away from it.

He’d been able to justify what happened with Mayfeld, the whole “technically they’re all dead now” situation.

He couldn’t justify this.

He wouldn’t.

His memory helpfully reminded him of the tiny hand that had rested on his cheek, of big brown trusting eyes, and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

He had to think of something else.

Cara had already been dropped off at home. Din hadn’t the heart to take some time to talk to Greef, so they had left pretty quickly.

Boba and Fennic seemed to be talking about Tatooine now, and as he didn’t much care for the sandy death-trap of a planet, he decided against joining the conversation.

Maybe he could clean his blasters or something. He reached into one of his pockets for a cloth—

—and his fingers instead hit a small ball he’d forgotten he had.

Oh.

What if—what if Grogu—

—would the Jedi, who Cara had clarified was basically the best Jedi, Luke Skywalker, who had defeated both the Emperor and his enforcer, Darth Vader (and that was good, he would protect the kid, Grogu would be safe), would the Jedi play with him? Din had to sudden desire to track them down and give the little ball—the last bit he had of the Razor Crest, his home for so long—

He let go of the shiny bit of metal and rubbed one of his eyes. This was...just...

His ship, his Creed, his people...his kid...did he have anything left?

His shook his head and pulled out the cloth from the right pocket, focusing with all he had (and it didn’t feel like much) on polishing his already spotless blaster, leaving his helmet on the floor by his feet.

Fennic walked over to him. He looked up at her—it was still so strange to just—see someone without any HUD—and saw that she wasn’t looking at his face, instead focusing on his hands.

He’d been...surprised, maybe, at how everyone had reacted to him taking his helmet off. No one brought attention to it and they mostly tried to act like nothing important (life-changing, life-ending) had happened. They spoke to him like normal. Besides Kryze (who he’d convinced to take the dark saber after she won a spar) and the other Mandalorian, they all avoided looking at his face when talking to him, which he guessed he appreciated.

He wasn’t sure what to feel about any of this.

“We’re about to come out of hyperspace,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you off somewhere more...populated?”

“No,” he said, “Sorgan is where I want to be.”

—

He had them land a kilometer or so away from the village he’d stayed at before. Boba gave him a comm number and said, “If you ever need work, comm me. Least I can do.” Fennic just nodded, and then they were flying away.

He stood there for a long time, just staring out into the trees.

Okay. He was on Sorgan. He’d really just had a hope that—

Omera, the kind widow with deadly aim, had been sad to see him go. She’d asked him to stay. She...might still want him to stay.

He suddenly felt very foolish, having the others drop him off on a planet he wasn’t even sure he’d still be welcome on. Even though the cantina he’d visited before was hours away, he decided he’d go there and see if he could get passage somewhere else.

Before he could even so much as take a step, there was rustling from behind him, to his right. He turned, and it took a moment without a HUD to assist, but he could see a human child with dark hair and eyes peeking out behind a tree. “Winta,” he said, glad he could still remember Omera’s daughter’s name.

She gasped and stepped out of her hiding spot. “It is you,” she said, then she looked around at his feet. “Where—where’s the baby?”

He blinked. “He…”

Winta’s already big eyes grew bigger and shiny with tears. “No! No, he’s not—“

“No!” Din said, hand reaching out in a calming gesture. “No, he’s safe. He’s okay. He just…” How was he supposed to explain the whole situation? “He has to be with someone else for a while.”

Winta looked confused, but at least she wasn’t about to start crying. She still looked sad, though. “Oh. Okay. Um, do you...want to come back to the village?” She gave a shaky smile. “Everyone will be happy to see you.”

He nodded and she started off, checking behind her to see if he would follow.

They ran into a group of children trying to work their way through the underbrush who all stared when they saw him. “The Mandalorian is back!” Winta announced, and the kids started to smile. “He doesn’t have the baby right now, but the baby is safe. We’re going back to the village.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit amused as she matter-of-factly directed their group to keep walking, answering questions like she was the expert on the situation. He’d been a bit worried about having to explain himself to everyone they came across, which seemed like a non-problem now.

At least, it seemed that way right up until he met Omera’s eyes  

She was working in a pond, knee-deep in water, and had just glanced over curiously when the children had broken through the tree-line. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she stood up straight, glancing at the helmet he held to his side. She dropped the basket on the ground and climbed out of the pond, walking over to them while scanning the ground around him and the children.

Looking for the kid.

Was it possible for a heart to keep shattering? His seemed dead set on it.

Winta hurried over and seemed to tell her mother the little she knew before moving on to the rest of the curious villagers.

Omera continued walking, stopping an arm’s reach away. Her eyes glanced over all of him, again catching on his helmet, before settling on his face.

Her eyes were full of questions. “You came back,” she said, and hearing her voice again soothed some part of his anxiety. She didn’t sound upset, just curious.

He nodded and tried to think of what to say. It suddenly occurred to him that she didn’t actually know his name, and that it hardly made sense for him to keep it a secret anymore, so he blurted out, “Din.”

She tilted her head, her confusion obvious.

He could feel the blush starting to spread across his face. “My—my name. Din. Din Djarin.”

Her eyes widened and she stepped forward. “Din?”

He nodded. He was breaking into a thousand pieces and nothing in the galaxy made sense, but she said his name and it seemed like things might be alright.

“Din,” she repeated, now standing quite close. One of her hands reached up, slowly, just as before, when she’d asked him to stay. He didn’t move, choosing instead to keep looking at her face. She was beautiful, yes, as always, but she seemed a bit sadder now, maybe.

He closed his eyes when her fingers, light as could be, brushed his cheek. She was the second person to touch his face in years, and it was still almost too much. When he didn’t move away, she rested her whole hand against his cheek, fingers combing into his hair and brushing his ear. Her thumb smoothed over his cheekbone, gentle, tender. Loving?

He opened his eyes to see her smile, and it was as grounding as it had ever been. Calming. Safe. “You came back,” she whispered.

“I’d...can I...stay, for a while?” he murmured.

“For as long as you like, you are welcome here,” she answered. “You will always be welcome here.”

He took a deep breath and leaned a little bit into the hand cradling his face. Okay. He could...he could work with this. It wasn’t the end of everything. Nothing was the same, not really, but for now...

For now, Sorgan would be his home.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hey lady, if you’re not busy could you do a George imagine? Along the lines of something with the 7 Potters, the reader and George fight about her going along with everyone and have a slight falling out. Then things become okay when George ends up with his ear blown off afterwards at the Burrow. Make sense? Thanks❤️

You frowned. "What the fuck do you mean I'm not going?" You asked George. "I mean, I talked it out with everyone else, you're not going, simple." George said walking. "Since when has literally everyone else had control over my actions!?" You asked. "Since this became a literal life and death situation and your dad didn't want you to die, and quite frankly I'm not a fan of that idea either." George said to you. "To hell what my dad thinks, Harry needs my help and I'm helping him!" You said. "And you will. Here." George said. "George!" You huffed, following him downstairs. "You can't stop me from doing this George!" You said angrily.

Remus looked up, hearing the argument. "No, you're right. But a whole group can." George said. "I can do this George, God why can't I just go--" "Because I refuse to put you in direct danger like that Y/n!" George snapped. "So you can go out into danger and I'm supposed to just sit here and pretend like that's fine while you and my dad charge off into battle like a couple of naïve jackasses who thinks that's safer!?" You asked. "Remus for the love of God talk to her." George sighed.

"Darling we are just trying to look out for you." Remus said. "You all seem to forget that I have a score to settle with these monsters too!" You snapped. "I know that Y/n, but your anger tends to blind you and we cannot risk you going out there and dying." Remus said. "But my boyfriend and his brother aren't. Hmm. Gee I'm beginning to think the jury is biased!" You snapped. "Yes. We are. We're all people who love you too much to see you hurt--" "I am more than willing to die for this-- God why can't you just--" "I already lost your mother I am not losing you too!" Remus said sharply. You shook your head and kicked the side of the fireplace. "I lost someone too! I witnessed people die too! I saw that-- I lived through that-- I LOST SIRIUS TOO!" You screamed.

The two men were silent as you shook. "You all get to play this part of coming back from a war like it only affects you. But you forget that I have seen this too. I was sitting in those stands watching Harry cling to Cedric, I was there when Umbridge took over, I was there when Arthur almost died and I was there when Sirius died. I can fucking handle myself and I've proven that time and time again, why can't any of you see that?" You asked. George sighed and shook his head "We know you can handle yourself Y/n. We just don't have a guarantee of survival." Remus said. "Neither do you and I can't lose either of you!" You said. "We can't lose you either!" George said back.

You shook your head. "Then don't go." You said, your voice breaking as you did. George closed his eyes, unable to look at that broken look you were giving him. "I have to do this." George said. You shook your head and George reached for you but you slapped his hand away, saying nothing as you pushed past him and went upstairs. George looked at Remus who was running a hand over his face. "We're doing the right thing. Right?" George asked. "We are... I just hope she sees that." Remus sighed.

You didn't come back downstairs for a while. Not even when George knocked on the door and told you that they'd be back soon. Well right now you were regretting not saying goodbye. Anxiety was coursing through you. You were absolutely terrified that something was going to happen. A part of you wished that you went with the group but George and Remus were dead set on leaving you out of the danger. Bill, Fred, George Fleur, Hermione and Ron all took a Polyjuice potion to throw death eaters off. You were forced to wait at the Burrow with Molly and Ginny.

You wouldn't stop moving. You were bouncing your leg or getting up and pacing. "I should have tried to stop them." you sighed. "Them?" Ginny asked. "George goes wherever Fred does, and Dad is out there-- I should have stopped them!" You sighed. "We're worried too dear." Molly said softly. You bit your nails and heard something outside.

You, Molly and Ginny ran out to see Harry and Hagrid. "Where are the others?" Molly asked. "They're not back yet?" Harry asked. "No." You muttered. Ginny pulled you aside. "I'm sure it's okay. Think about it Y/n, they would have to space out the times to come back to really throw them off.." Ginny assured. You nodded and noticed a blue flash of light. Molly had already gone back inside, unaware of the situation.

Remus ran out with George's arm wrapped around him, blood spewing from him. "George!" You gasped, helping Remus with him. You guided him to the couch and Molly gasped, George holding your hand. "Don't let me go." He muttered, you kneeled, Molly on your other side. Remus slammed Harry against the fireplace. "What creature sat in the corner the first time Harry Potter had visited my office in Hogwarts!?" Remus asked, wand aimed at Harry. "Have you gone MAD!?" Harry asked. "WHAT CREATURE!?" Remus repeated. "Grindylow!" Harry answered. Remus retracted and breathed. "We've been betrayed, Voldemort knew you were being moved tonight. I had to make sure you weren't an imposter." Remus explained as Molly tended to George. You heard noises outside and you drew shaking breaths, trying to keep calm in front of George.

Harry, Remus and Ginny ran outside to see what the noise was as you gripped George's hand. "I should've been with you." You breathed. "no... no you could've died tonight Y/n, I couldn't let that happen." George muttered. You were having a harder time keeping it together. "I shouldn't have yelled at you earlier." you whimpered. "It's okay Y/n..." George assured.

Fred ran over, kneeling next to you and wrapping an arm around you for comfort. "How you feelin' Georgie?" Fred asked. "Saint like." George said groggily. "Come again?" Fred asked. "Saint like. I'm Holy. I'm holey Fred. Get it?" George joked. You let out a laugh through the tears and Fred pulled you closer once he realized you were crying. "A whole wide world of ear related humor and you go for 'I'm holey'? It's pathetic." Fred snorted. "Still better looking than you." George said, still holding your hand. You drew shaking breaths and kissed his hand as Bill emerged.

"Mad eye's dead." Bill muttered. You said nothing, pulling away from the boys and walking upstairs. Remus followed you, knocking on the door of Ginny's room. He peaked his head inside and saw you crying on the bed you usually slept in. He sat next to you and pulled you to his chest, you sobbing and shaking in his arms. "I-I'm sorry dad." You whimpered. "It's alright pup, I'm okay. And considering what trooper George was during the battle, I'm sure he will be too." Remus assured. You clenched the sides of Remus' jacket and he rubbed your back. "It could've been you." You whimpered. "What?" Remus asked. "Alister could've b-been you or George dad." you muttered. Remus pulled you closer. "I almost lost b-both of you." You whimpered. Remus held you tightly and let out a breath. "I know Pup... I know." he soothed.

Molly knocked on the doorframe, seeing you hugging Remus. "Oh darling... Are you alright?" She asked. "This war sucks." you whined making both of the parents laugh. Molly kissed your forehead, smiling. "I'm making dinner tonight.. A little treat for survival." She said. You let out a sad laugh and she smiled. "Thank you Molly." Remus said before she went back downstairs. "Will you be alright?" Remus asked. You nodded and he got up, you wiping your eyes. You looked over to see Fred standing in the doorway.

"Georgie wanted to see you." Fred said. "okay." you muttered getting up.   You walked back downstairs and George looked over, slightly more aware of his surroundings. "Hey darling-- ow." He winced as he spoke. "Careful George." you said, kneeling next to him. He kissed your hand amd you sighed looking at him. Remus set a bowl of water, a towel and bandages down. "We need to clean his wounds... Do you want to do it?" Remus asked. "You're better at it." You said to him.

"Hold him. He's about to hate me." Remus said. "Any idea who did this to you?" You asked. "no.." George said. You sighed and kissed his hand as Remus began the process. George winces and you felt him tightened his grip around your hand. "Remus about that thing we talked about-- Ow!" George said making Remus raise a brow. "I haven't changed my answer if that's what you're asking." Remus said. "Good-- Holy fuck that hurts." George winced. "Love, you're gripping my hand a little too tight." You winced. He slowly released the tight grip but quickly tightened it again after Remus touched the wound again. "Nngg-- Christ how do you deal with this!?" He asked, referring to the scars that you had from Remus' changes.

He rarely allowed you near him during full moons but sometimes he genuinely had no one else and needed you there. It certainly helped that you were an animagus. The irony of you being a wolf when your dad was a werewolf was not lost on you. You had this ongoing theory that Sirius was actually your uncle and you being a wolf was a way to distinguish the family. Actually, Sirius went along with this too, referring to you, him and Remus (and later on, Tonks) as a pack.

"I have my ways." You said as George gripped your hand. "Tell me something good-- PLEASE!" George winced. "I'm glad you made it back to me." You said softly. He chuckled before wincing. "I'm almost done" Remus assured. "Hell on Earth wouldn't have stopped me from seeing you again Y/n." George said as remus finally got the blood to stop. "Lean up." Remus said. George slowly leaned up, Remus carefully wrapping his head. George winced slightly at the fabric's contact with his ear and George pulled you into his arms now that he was sitting up.

"I'm sorry I worried you darling." George said. You said nothing, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I love you." He said. "I love you too." You mumbled making him lean so your face was off of his neck and staring at him. His kissed your forehead and you curled into his lap, George holding you close.

Remus looked at his daughter and George, Molly and Arthur standing next to him. "Should we separate them?" Tonks asked. Remus chuckled and shook his head.

"No... No let's leave them alone for a while"

Taglist:@amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan part 55! @selfindulgenz

Content warning!! Violence, fighting, injury, Blood

Raphael’s team led the charge with no thought of the danger they could be putting themselves in. Cassandra was at his side, giving a confident shout as she held her naginata high in a declaration of war against the one currently destroying her city. Sunita, Draxum, April, and Raphael all soon joined her in the battle cry, their voices joining together in a powerful roar of will.

Krang only laughed, stopping his charge in favor of arming the weapons that lined his body suit and aiming them at the group. “Run run, as fast as you can! Can’t wait to rip you apart again!”

“Ignore him.” Raphael growled to his team. “We’re stronger than him as long as we stick together!”

Krang fired his weapons, purposely missing the group while getting just close enough to make them duck and cover. His laugh was one that could not be easily forgotten, like the monster under the bed crawling out to say hello to the child it had been tormenting.

“Don’t want to do it too soon though. You’re so much fun to play with!”

“Draxum, make us a way up the mouth.” Raphael ordered and Draxum obeyed.

Draxum’s vines shot up from the earth, extending out with a powerful reach to snare around Krang’s mouth and arms. The oni wasn’t amused by this display, giving a frustrated growl as his weapons shifted and rearmed to aim instead at the bridging vines. They didn't have very long to cross the vine bridge before the weapons were online and tore through the mystic plants just as fast as Draxum could replace them, leading to a stalemate of will. The faun had to stay on the ground to achieve such a feat, making way for the rest of the team to try and cross. Each slice and strike and gash to the vines shot back to Draxum, and he felt it as if the bullets and blades were ripping through his own body. There was no damage to his physical form, but the pain was still there, overwhelming. His hooves dug deeper into the stone, nostrils flaring under the pressuring strain, muscles tense and defined. He had to hold it together, he had to replace the vines. There were four lives depending on it, half of them very dear to him. He had to hang on with everything he had.

Raphael’s mind was split thin. Not only was he focused on not getting hit, but making sure the girls didn't get hit either. Sunita had no experience in things like this, and though April and Cassandra could easily hold their own, Raphael still couldn’t help but worry about them more so then himself. He was so focused on ensuring a safe path for them that he didn't notice his own path had ended until he was walking on air, like something out of an old cartoon, and promptly plummeted.

“Raphie!”

Cassandra wanted to jump after him but Sunita was faster. The polymorph moved like pure, conscious fluid, gripping Raphael and surrounding him like a protective geliaton mould. When they hit the ground, they bounced, and Sunita took the opportunity of the new height to stretch out and snare her arms around a traffic light while the rest of her still supported Raphael’s weight. To the snapper, it was like being on a bungee cord that slowly lost its momentum until he was dangling above the intersection like a fly in a spider web. But he was alive, and in one piece.

April knew the charge attempt wouldn’t follow through, and looking ahead showed nothing but promised destruction. The better senses in her told her to fall back, and the vines seemed to sense her apprehension as they slowly wrapped around her middle to lift and guide her to safety back beside Baron Draxum.

Cassandra didn't stop. She wouldn’t stop for anything. Her body wouldn’t let her. All around her were sounds like engines backfiring, time and time and time again in repeat, deafening her senses and leaving nothing behind except what was automatic. What came natural, and what came natural was fighting. Fighting, charging. Her naginata was flaming gold in her hand like a tiny sun that swallowed her in an embrace that encouraged the bravery deep inside of her. She hardly noticed that her feet were treading nothing but air, and she hardly noticed the flash of silver finding hold deep in her side, whisking through her belly and chest. She hardly noticed the pain, the blood, the shredded flesh. She hardly noticed how she was flying and how Krang was getting smaller. She hardly noticed anything until she hit the ground.

~~~

Krang was distracted and that bought Leonardo’s team enough time to strategize, and enough time for Donatello to map out the blind spots of the alien mech. It’s okay, Donatello kept telling himself. He would be okay as long as he didn't see that monster that still tormented his every waking thought.

“Step where I step.” Donatello told the group behind him.

The blind spot was small, but it would be enough for them to get onto the mech undetected. When Donatello moved, the chain behind him moved, and when he stopped, they stopped. Like an army of marching ants, they made their way across the parapet of the building toward the mech. That’s all Donatello could think of it as; the Mech. If he thought of it as the one who was controlling it, he was afraid of what might happen. The mech wasn’t Krang and Krang wasn’t the mech and Donatello didn't dare think of them as one unit. A breath to sooth the burning inside of him, and Donatello jumped.

Clearing the space between building and mech was easy. His brothers and fathers soon followed suit until they were all on the shoulder of the mech.

“Are you sure we’re out of sight?” Leonardo whispered to his twin.

Donatello gave a weak nod that steadily grew stronger and more confident. Leonardo trusted fully in his brother, giving a motion to the younger one to start their plan. Michelangelo gave a smirk as he wrapped his chain around a sheet of peeling metal, securing it tightly and giving it a sharp tug to ensure it was steady. He gave a thumbs up and smiled as confirmation for his older brother.

Donatello took Michelangelo’s hand, and Splinter took Donatello’s, and Leonardo took Splinter’s. They formed a chain that cascaded down the mech’s shoulder and chest, just low enough for Leonardo to be level with the belly latch that Sunita had reported to them. In Leonardo’s chest grew a familiar, tight ball that seemed to reach up with its yarn to strangle the life out of him. Doubt stung his eyes and made them water, each breath like it was taken through a heavy cloth. He had one job; make a rift and get them inside. That was all he had to do. Why, then, was the odachi failing to do that simple job?! Leonardo was slashing and waving it around like he always did to make a rift before, but no rift took form.

No. No— no no no, it had to work! He had gotten past the anxiety, the panic, the worry that had caused him so much trouble to begin with! This should have been easy, as simple to him as cooking was to Michelangelo and fighting was to Raphael and tech-geek stuff was to Donatello. This was mystic stuff, stuff that Leonardo was supposed to be good at! So why wasn’t it—

Something happened. Leonardo felt the familiar pull of a rift but he knew he hadn’t created one. There was no tear in time, blue or otherwise. No distortion, no wavering, no disruption. The air was still solid and in one piece! But still there was something pulling at him with such mystic pressure that, if he were to resist, he was almost certain it could rip him apart. The thought of that fate in his mind was all it took for Leonardo to close his eyes and let the magnetic effects swallow him into a tunnel of warping, space and time bending all around him like looking at an image through a glass. Once he had relented and let the force take him, all he could do was hold onto his father for dear life and hope.

The next thing Leonardo knew was that the group above him was now on top of him, a crushing weight of bodies against his shell.

“Oww…”

“WOW!” Michelangelo was on top of the stack, beaming as he looked around. This was definitely where they had meant to go, and the inside of the mech was even more impressive than the outside. Light seemed to be coming from nowhere, a gentle green glow filling the entirety of the mech. Up and up and up Michelangelo looked, but he couldn’t see the top of the mech at all! “I didn't even see you make the rift! Good job Leo.”

“Can’t breath.” Leonardo felt like a flattened pancake.

“I didn't either.” Donatello hurmed, his eyes darting around in an anxious search. There was no sight of that horrible creature, and the voice hadn’t invaded his mind. That was good right? That meant Krang didn't know they were there, right? “That’s so weird.”

“You’re crushing my old bones…” Splinter groaned.

“Oh! Sorry.” Michrlangelo hopped off the stack, then Donatello, so Splinter and Leonardo were free to breath once more.

“Agh…” Splinter pressed his hands into the small of his back to stretch. “My body don’t bend that way anymore.”

Splinter’s nose twitched. He reached a hand to touch the back of his nape, where he found his hairs sticking up on end. His tail lashed, and something in the pit of his stomach warned of danger; the warning was enough to heighten every sense he had to focus on something jarring, just out of sight. Powerful muscles sliding across metal with a shhhk shhhk shhhk. The crack of jaws resetting themselves. The steady, whistling hiss of a predator to all of rat kind. A snake.

[ijwrff]

Yandere! Wilford Warfstache

Hello! This is a commission from my good friend @nerdqueenkat​. I haven’t written anything for egos in a while so I hope this turned out okay! 

It...wasn’t very hard to notice Wilford Warfstache. That is...unless he didn’t want you to know he was there. Somehow the world around him seemed to bend to his will. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was some magical being who could make all your wishes come true. 

That was how it started. You were going about your day as usual, when you took notice of the man with the pink suspenders sitting on the bench you would normally wait on for the evening bus back home. 

“Is this seat taken?” You politely asked, before he gave a shake of his head and scooted over to accommodate for you. Before, he was slouched across it, not leaving any room for a second person. 

“Of course not...you can see me?” It was straightforward, and you turned to him in shock. 

“See you...of course, you’re right here.” He looked as real as anyone else...actually. There didn’t seem to be anyone at the stop. It wasn’t usually a popular spot, but a good two or three people were common. You’d even come to know a couple by name in your time taking the same bus every day. But none of them seemed to be here today. 

“Well now what day is it…” The man looked perplexed, as if he had no bearings on what was real in the world around him. This man surely must be mad. 

Even so, you indulged, hoping that he wasn’t the dangerous kind of mad. “It’s September. The 21st?” The bus would surely be here soon. Maybe he wasn’t intent on riding the bus, and was simply using the bench as a place to stay. 

There were too many things that didn’t add up. 

“No, no, the month or day doesn’t matter, silly! What year?” He didn’t seem to be harmful at least...if anything maybe a bit confused. There was an odd drawl to his speech, maybe he was simply recovering from a late night out. A hangover could certainly explain the confusion. 

“2020.” A short answer, maybe he would get the message and not try pushing any buttons until your bus got here. 

Your answer only seemed to confuse him more as he began muttering to himself. “No that’s not right...I don’t meet you for another…”

Now he was starting to worry you. He sounded like he seriously lost his marbles, you just wanted to get back home and curl up on the couch with your favorite show on. Maybe a nice cup of hot chocolate. 

You turned away from the man and saw the headlights of a bus in the distance, gradually getting closer. “Well it was nice meeting you but I…” When you turned back he was no longer there. Where could he have been able to go so quietly? 

Shaking off the strange encounter, you got off the bus and made your way back home. That would have been it, a strange encounter. But that wasn’t the last time you saw him. 

Months later, into the chilly weather of February, you were sitting in a local cafe, browsing through the internet with the help of their free wifi. It was quiet, and nobody paid you much mind, until one familiar person came around and changed your life. 

“It’s good to see you gumdrop, I’ve missed you!” Before you could react, you were being pulled into a side hug. You aimed to push the stranger away, but you recognized him. He wasn’t easy to forget. His strong grip made it near possible to escape, but as quickly as it happened it was over. 

The man spun around to the other side of the table and kicked his feet up onto the table. You looked around quickly to see if anyone else was seeing what you were, but they didn’t turn. They didn’t seem to notice you at all. 

“How has the new job been going? Got time for a few questions?” He seemed more...peppy than he had been. In fact, he seemed to be almost formal. He had a notepad out and a pen he pulled from behind his ear as he seemingly read through a list of potential questions. 

You were still stumped on the first one. “New...new job? I’m sorry I think you’re confusing me with someone else.” Getting up to leave and give this man some space, you shuffled your things into your bag. He didn’t let you get away. 

“Wait! Just a minute, no worries my darling it probably hasn’t happened yet.” Flipping quickly through a few pages he cleared his throat. “Ah yes, here we are.” He seemed to find his place, quickly throwing out another question before you could process the insanity that was leaving his lips. “What would you say your favorite animal is? If you could have one as a pet what would it be?” 

“I’m sorry...animal? I don’t even know your name.” You wanted to give this man a chance, clearly he thought he knew you. “Um...if I’d have to pick I’d say rabbit. They seem easy to take care of in my current apartment.” 

With a nod he wrote down your answer, not that you had given him permission to. But honestly? Anything to get this odd situation out of the way, you had to search for a job soon or you’d lose your apartment…

“My name?” The man let out a loud laugh, leaving you to once again check to see if you had caused a disturbance, only ro yet again be met with obliviousness. Not a single person was turning to look at you. It made you feel...uneasy. This man seemed to have an air that said he can and will get whatever he wants...so what does he want with you?

“My name is Wilford Warfstache, my dear y/n.” The man you now know as Wilford leaned forward, leaving you to wonder how he knew your name. “And you...are my spouse. Maybe not now...but surely later. It’s only a matter of time. No matter how relevant such a thing may be.” He leaned forward, and you found yourself leaning forward as well. What was so enticing about this man?

You couldn’t help it...when you leaned forward it was almost as if there was a pink hue to his eyes, swirling...captivating. What...were you just worried about? 

Your lips never hit his though. But a sweet taste filled your mouth. You were alone at the table, your favorite flavor of sucker hanging from your mouth. 

It was months later when you found him for the third time. Since then, random gifts have arrived at your door. You knew it was him, but how he knew your address was beyond you. You resorted to staying at home for fear of running into Wilford again. He wouldn’t be able to make it into your home...right?

You had tried moving multiple times. It only took three times for you to give up. He always knew. How did he always know?

Something was off...something was wrong about him. You knew telling the police would do nothing. He couldn’t be human. He was in your dreams...telling you of a future that you’ll have together. It got to the point where walking around your empty apartment day to day seemed more like a dream. 

The dreams became more...enticing over time. Everything you ever wanted was a reality. All of your problems were just...washed away. The dreams would all always end the same. Wilford would say the same line at the end of every dream. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

At this point...it was unclear even to you if it was a promise or a threat. 

One day, or one gift rather, shined through more than any other. When you opened your door to the sound of the mail arriving, you were greeting with yet another gift basket. This one...was completely full of things you recall telling Wilford about in your dreams. 

A book from your childhood, a postcard from the place you most wanted to visit, and an array of your favorite candies, all mixed in with something you thought you’d never see again. The vase that you broke in childhood, that you were told held great history in your family. Your parents gave you hell for breaking it, and there wasn’t a family gathering you went to where someone didn’t bring it up. How did he know the exact one?

 The dreams had to be real, or he would never know. Or maybe...this was a dream as well. It seemed as if every time he asked you a question, the answer directly correlated with what gifts you would receive next. 

Sometimes they were out of order, but they all arrived at some point. You intended to ask him about it in your dreams tonight. 

The stage was set. You had soothing music playing to help you fall asleep, and were dressed in your most comfortable pajamas. You knew he would be in your dreams again tonight. It was near every day now that it happened. You almost...looked forward to it. 

The dreams range in length and content, and each night was different than the last. A different location, a different theme, but each romantic in it’s own way. 

As you fell asleep, a familiar comforting feeling crept through your body, and you opened your eyes to see Wilford throwing carnival game balls at a set of milk bottles. It seemed the theme  for  tonight was a carnival. 

“Win any games yet Wilford?” By now, you had grown used to seeing him. The conversation always seemed to flow freely. 

Throwing a smirk your way, he replied “Of course, I always win the best of prizes for you.” As if on cue, you noticed the array of stuffed animals sitting on the counter next to the balls. Any and all kinds and sizes were sitting on display just waiting to be grabbed. 

“Wilford...this time I have a question for you, if that’s alright.” For once, you were almost at a loss of what to say, despite knowing you had spent the day preparing what to say to him tonight. Would he react negatively? Would he stop sending gifts? What if you said the wrong thing and he realized that he didn’t need you. At this point...you needed him. 

Wilford didn’t seem to notice the anxiety, and gave a smile over his shoulder as he knocked down another bottle. “Changing things up on me, sugarplum? I think you’d make the most amazing interviewer.” Throwing the last ball he turned, putting his arm over your shoulder. It was also something you had grown used to, the physical contact. 

It was always either a hand around the small of your back, one draped over your shoulder, or him holding your much smaller hand in his own. If a stranger were to touch you in such a way, you’d probably throw a few punches their way if they didn’t take the hint. But contact with Wilford had an almost calming effect on you. As if his very existence made you feel more comfortable. Being with him made all your problems dissolve away. 

Shaking your head clear of your thoughts you spoke aloud the question you prepared to ask. “Why do you send me gifts every day?” Straightforward and to the point. Tonight wouldn’t be about enjoying time with Wilford, like every other night, tonight was about answers. 

He gave you a confused look in return, “Haven’t I told you? We get married eventually. And I see no problem in spoiling my spouse.” He spun around, talking openly with his hands, “Our time together starts soon, you just have to be patient.” 

His words soothed you, almost made you feel like being with him was meant to happen. You saw the pink gleam in his eyes again, and lost your words. All you could think about was him. As your mind begins to go blank, every stress in the world melts away. Looking into his eyes was all you needed to do right now.  

Somehow...it felt right. He declared he would always give you gifts, and you would get to meet him in the real world soon. For now...you were happy to have him in your dreams. 

As time passed...more gifts arrived. You started to grow grateful. Wilford has spent so much time and effort getting you things you enjoy. Someone who seemed so...sweet couldn’t possibly be bad. 

It had now been months since you last saw Wilford in person, and only days since the dreams stopped. You knew he was coming. It was finally time. You were ready for him. 

When he finally returned to your door, he was wearing a pink suit with a bouquet of matching pink roses. 

“I’ve missed you, my special little gumdrop.” He extended his arm to give you the flowers, which you quickly grabbed, moving them out of the way to give Wilford a hug. 

“I’ve missed you too.” Never had you spoken words so true. Something had always been missing in your life. You knew you were destined for more. He was everything you need. He would give you the perfect life you’ve always wanted. 

“Have you made your choice my dear?” He would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to. At least that’s what his eyes were telling you. 

One look into the beautiful pink swirls in his eyes, and you knew. 

He had been preparing you. In your dreams of lavish lifestyles, and endless fun to be had, you knew you only had one choice. One dream in particular you knew would be your future. 

Living your life as his most prized possession. You would spend the rest of your days not having to worry about trivial things that life has tasked you with. You didn’t need freedom. You didn’t need friends. You would only have Wilford and Wilford alone. He was yours forever, just as much as you were his. 

“Together...forever.”

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 19: Debridement

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane begins to process life after her trauma, and Sy delivers the news of her safety to the people that matter most to her…but there is pushback on a few aspects of his report.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with mention of Shane’s trauma in the cellar. Not graphic. 

Author’s Note: My darling readers! Thank you so much for your patience as I deal with seasonal stress, fatigue, anxiety, and some depression. It was my goal to have all chapters of this story done by the end of this year. I don’t think I’ll accomplish it, but I’ll do my very best to get at least one more chapter up by the 31st. 2020 has been a totally shit year, but I will forever owe it some remarkable things. This story, which has been an amazing escape from real life, the friends I’ve made from all over my country and the world, many of them because of this story, and a long overdue shift in my work hours starting next week. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, but the year has really opened me up to new ideas and some major soul-searching. I think, mentally, I’m actually more myself than I’ve ever been, despite some blue times. You can all take some credit for that improvement, because many of my moments of clarity have arisen from brilliant and profound posts here.

The title of this chapter seemed appropriate for a few reasons. Wounds are cleaned and cleared of damaged tissue during debridement. This is one of the steps usually required for a large and/or traumatic wound to heal. We see Shane beginning this process here in this chapter, and in a sense, Sy, as well. The cleansing of Shane in both the literal and figurative sense was so interesting and satisfying to write. And Sy’s bit at the end was a fun puzzle in which I had to figure out how to have Sy give the same news to four different recipients without sounding repetitive. I hope that landed, and if anyone has any suggestions, please let me know.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane still felt as if her head was floating above her body, like a balloon on a long string. The combination of meds in her system had helped many of her symptoms. The pain she felt, the physical pain, had been alleviated. Her troubled mind had been put at ease, more or less. But that was a long time ago. And unfortunately, the side effects weren't wearing off at the rapid rate of the intended ones.

As she sat in the SUV--the escape vehicle-- parked outside a large building the size of a small airplane hangar, she tried not to think about what Sy and his pals were discussing just outside the vehicle. She tried not to reflect on the past few days that she had convinced herself would be her last. She tried not to think about what -- or, really, who -- was inside that building.

She thought about seeing Elliott again. The man who had planned to kill her, and almost succeeded. A part of her wished he had, because she wasn't sure she knew who she was anymore. She was a stranger to herself. And living like this seemed so much more difficult than a quick painless death. She couldn't bear the thought of being in view of him.

But another part of her wanted to go in there and end his life herself. That part of her could pull the trigger on a gun aimed at his head. That part of her could bury a knife in his kidney, or sever an artery. Her anatomy and physiology courses could serve her well here. She had dangerous knowledge. Maybe that's why doctors often seem so full of themselves. They possess the knowledge to end life, and yet they choose to save it. It sort of puts things into perspective. Maybe they're justified in their hubris.

Still one more part simply wanted to go home, clean up, and lay naked in her soft sheets with Sy wrapped around her. Warmer and more comforting than any blanket had ever been. She had remembered missing him so much. She thought now about his gentle, loving hands on her, his mouth tasting her so delicately, his…

But then her mind was ripped from the sensual thoughts of Sy and back to her horrific memories from that cellar. The hands of strangers, rough and hateful, their mouths full of words like bile or the grunts of their own violent fulfillment.

Her nightmare of a daydream was abruptly interrupted by the opening of the back passenger door. She jumped, and looked at the source of the noise with wide-eyed terror. It was only Sy, but she couldn't school her face into a softer expression, even after realizing she was safe.

"Oh, Sunshine, I'm so sorry I startled ya! You okay?"

She said nothing, just let out her held breath woefully.

"Let's head home. I'll get your purse and bag of clothes here."

"I don't want those clothes. Throw them away. And these shoes are going in the trash as soon as possible, too."

"Okay. I'll toss it. You sure?"

"I never want to see that bag again. I'm positive."

He nodded, grabbed her purse, and went around to help her out of the vehicle.

One of Sy's friends approached them from the building.

"You guys okay? You'll make it home alright?"

"Yeah, Matt, we'll be okay. I'll be in touch soon about next steps."

"You got it, Captain. Anything you need, let us know."

"Will do. Thanks for everything you've already done. I owe ya."

"You don't owe me a thing, brother. You don't owe any of us. Not after everything you've done for all of us…for everyone."

Sy just nodded at Matt, and turned toward his truck, steadying Shane all the way to the passenger door.

The drive to Shane's house was quiet. Sy kept one hand on the wheel, holding hers in the other. She felt safe, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling inside her. Like the other shoe would soon drop, and her love would be taken away again.

When they were safely parked in her driveway, Sy took her keys out of his pocket, apparently having gotten them from his friend who'd drove her car from Elliott's to the airplane hangar place. He walked around to get her, and helped her to her door. She kicked off her shoes immediately when she stepped inside her shadowy living room. She had left the same lamp on that she always did, but it was dimmer now, having been on almost a whole week.

"Bath?" Sy asked. Shane nodded slowly. She would need a long soak to erase this feeling.

Sy got the bath water ready while she found some clothes to put on after. She laid her comfiest lounge pants and her favorite sweat shirt on the bed and walked toward the bathroom. She was soon hit with the comforting aroma of lavender, chamomile, and vanilla as soon as she stepped through the doorway. He had used her favorite bubble bath and salts.

"Check that water temp. I think it's about right." he requested. It was perfect. She started to peel off the stiff paper scrubs she was still wearing, but he insisted on helping her. As she stood before him, even though he'd seen every inch of her body before, she felt more naked and exposed than ever. She looked at him, noticed tears welling in his eyes, and dropped her gaze to the bath mat under her feet. Her skin, typically immaculately clear, olive perfection, was now peppered with dozens of bruises. She felt like a dalmatian, covered in spots. She chuckled inside herself at the thought of one of her favorite Disney films featuring the breed most heavily.

Sy's strong, but gentle hands landed softly on her upper arms. His lips lit tenderly on her forehead. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded and stepped into the large, garden tub full of steaming water. It stung her feet, ankles, and calves, but she still bent to sit, wincing as her tender petals and behind met the medicinal broth. Sy held her hand as she stepped in and guided her down. She closed her eyes at the soothing pain of the hot water and did not open them until she felt the water level rise. Sy had stepped in with her, wearing just his boxer-briefs, and was sitting on the side of the tub. He reached for the hand shower, and turned the water back on, slightly less warm, but still soothing and soaked her hair, directing the water away from her face. He had thought to grab her shampoo from the shower, as well, and was lathering some up in his hands to apply to her wet strands. It felt like heaven to have his fingers in her hair like this. Relaxing and soporific. He kept at it until she was certain he must be getting pruney, not to mention tired.

After carefully rinsing her hair of the coconut-scented lather, he grabbed the lavender foam bath she loved, and worked it up in one of the wash cloths he'd brought from the linen caddy between the sink and shower. He massaged the suds into her tired and injured skin over her back, then requested each leg in turn, kneading her calves and feet as she took another of the cloths and washed her face with the rich cleanser she kept by the bath, typically using it only on her "spa days" but feeling that it would nourish her battered cheeks and nose better than anything else. Sy's ministrations filled her with a kind of blissful contentment. She couldn't help but wonder if she deserved him. She always had thought she deserved the best things in life, even though her romantic past didn't tend to pan out that way. She'd worked very hard and often allowed herself to invest in quality. But now…she felt broken, in spite of herself. She'd have to tell Sy all that happened to her one day, and when that day came, he'd probably realize how damaged she really was, and he'd leave. Just like everyone else always did. She knew the conversation needed to come sooner rather than later, but couldn't bring herself to break the spell yet.

Sy let her soak for as long as she was comfortable until the water grew tepid. She looked up to him, sitting on the side of the tub, legs now outside, his gaze like twin seas met hers. He had been watching her, it seemed. As if worried that she would dematerialize if he looked away. Her bath robe was draped across his lap, as was a large bath towel. She moved to stand from the now chilled bath water, and Sy was immediately up to aid her rising. He held her hand as she stepped out of the tub and dried her top half before helping her don the robe, then continued to dry her bottom half.

"Go on in there and get comfortable, Sunshine. I have a few phone calls to make. I wanna let your folks know you're okay and I wanna tell Detective Clarkson you've been found. Anyone else you want me to get in touch with?"

"Umm, do you know if my brother and sister know what's happened to me?"

"They do. They should both be at your parent's house by now from what I gathered when I visited."

"Okay, so mom or dad will let them know. I guess you should call Susan, and let her know that I'm alive but won't be in this week. On my fridge, there's a phone directory for everyone in my department. But first, call Heather. I don't want her to worry any longer. Call her right after mom and dad. And tell them all I'll have them over tomorrow, but I can't tonight. I'm…"

She didn't even know what she was. Tired, sore, depressed, hopeless, and angry. A combination of so many feelings and emotions coursed through her.

"I'll work it out. You get in bed, and I'll be back in when I'm done with these calls, okay?" she nodded. He continued, "I love you, darlin.'" and wrapped his arms around her, making her feel almost whole again.

"I love you." she replied. Holding back tears until he had left the room.

~~~~~~

Shane realized she hadn't brushed her teeth in…far too long. She donned her sleeping clothes and went into the bathroom again to complete a comprehensive oral hygiene routine.  Sy had been gone for about a half hour, during which time, his absence felt like a noose around her neck. Or an anvil on her chest. It made it feel like hours had passed rather than mere minutes. She was fidgety. When he finally re-entered, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you need anything, sweet pea?"

"Just you."

Sy crawled under the covers with Shane to spoon her, arm laying over her rib cage. She winced, as the bruises on her torso were disturbed at the contact, but she didn't ask him to adjust. Despite the dull pain, this was what she needed. Sy's protecting arm around her.

"Did you get a hold of everyone?" She asked, sleepily.

"I did. Your family are eager to see you, but they understand your need for rest. Heather says that you better let her come over soon, because she's holding your phone hostage until you pay her in hugs. They all send their love."

"And Susan?"

"Yeah, that woman is a piece of work, I know, but I think she's going to come through for you. She's going to have them hold off on scheduling patients with you until you're better, and put both weeks in as vacation. She said you have plenty of it. But also, if you need more time, she can work out some…family medical leave…thing? She said she'd get the ball rolling on that, and will let you know what you need to do on your end."

"Oh, good. Yeah, she can be an asshole, but sometimes she does right by her employees. What about the detective?"

Sy paused there. "I, uh, I talked to him for quite a while and he said a lot of things. Let's go over the finer points tomorrow at breakfast. Or, rather, today." He said, looking at the blue numbers on the glowing digital clock on Shane's nightstand that indicated the wee hours of the morning were running out. "I'm sure we're both tired enough to grab a few winks, ain't we?" He asked, and she hummed her ascent as she tucked herself closer to his warm, monolithic chest.

As Shane drifted off, she thought she felt a warm kiss, and a whisper at her temple. It sounded like a tearful prayer. She was too far into her sleep to comprehend the words being said.

"Thank you God," Sy whispered. "I know I'm not your most faithful servant, but I am truly grateful that you've kept this treasure of mine alive and brought her back to me. Thank you for reuniting me with the woman I mean to spend the rest of my days with, if she'll agree to it. Thank you."

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

About Thirty Minutes Ago-

Sy left the bedroom and began scrolling through his phone for the Benton's number. He pressed the call button with joy.

"Sy?" John answered frantically, just as he did the first time Sy spoke to him.

"John, is everyone there?"

"Yeah, we're all just watching a movie in the family room. Do you have news?"

"I do. You may want to put me on speaker, because everybody's going to want to hear this."

"Okay." and after a brief struggle with the speaker button and help from two younger people Sy presumed were Ethan and Gabby, John was back with the whole family. "Okay, Sy, we can all hear you. What's the word?"

"Oh, it's a very good word, guys. I found Shane and she is alive, and now safe." Cheering from what sounded like a stadium full of fanatics resounded from the ear piece of his cell phone.

"Sy, this is Gabby, Shane's sister. Can we come see her now?" Gabby's tears were evident in her voice. He wished he could tell them yes. But Shane needed her rest.

"I know she would love to see you, Gabby, she'd love to see all of you, but I think what she needs right now is rest. She's been through…a terrible ordeal. I took her to the Emergency Room to get checked out, and she just had a bath and is about to go to bed. She'll want to see you all tomorrow, though. Maybe around lunch time?"

"That sounds good, Sy. We'll bring some of this food over." John said.

"Are you sure we can't come over tonight? I…I want to see my daughter with my own eyes." Margaret said, weepily.

"I truly wish I could tell you yes, Peg, but she's hardly slept the last week, and just had her first full meal since she was taken this evening at the hospital. I really think it's best for everyone if you guys wait until tomorrow when she's more herself and rested." Sy reiterated.

"What about the people who did this to her?" a male voice he didn't recognize asked, assured to be Ethan. "Any leads on them?" He wanted to tell them that most of the men had been dealt with using lethal or nearly lethal force, and that the perpetrator of Shane's misery was locked up in Matt's shop bathroom until they decided just how to take care of him. But he needed to disclose what he knew to as few people as possible.

"The less y'all know, the better. For your own good. At least right now. Just know that whatever justice has not yet been served, it will be very soon."

"That's good enough for me." John offered, in an apparent attempt to bring Ethan on side.

"Thanks, John. I'll take care of her tonight. I won't leave her side. I promise."

"Thank you, son." John replied. Sy appreciated the tender address, but wondered how Ethan felt about his father referring to someone else as his son. Probably not that great. He couldn't worry about that now.

"It's my sincerest pleasure. I want you to know that. She's my world now. I won't let anything else happen to her."

"We know, dear." Peg added.

"Good night. And we'll see y'all tomorrow."

Four incoherent replies rang out before he ended the call. Next was Heather.

"Hello?" she answered in sleepy confusion.

"Heather?"

"Who'sis?"

"It's Logan Syverson. Sy? From PT. Shane's boyfriend."

"Sy! Oh, it's good to hear from you! Any news?"

"The best news, darlin.' Our girl is alive, and home safe." he smiled ear to ear saying the words, but it quickly turned into a wince when Heather shouted for joy in his ear. It was fine. Not like he didn't already have mild tinnitus.

"Oh my GOD! I'm coming over right now!"

"No, Heather, she's resting. She told me she'll see people tomorrow, but I don't think anyone but you and her family should be allowed in right now. She's…well, she's been through seven levels of Hell, and when I look into her eyes, I can still see the fire."

"Shit. Anything I can do?"

"She'll be thrilled to see ya. But tomorrow."

"She better. I have her phone and the ransom is a thousand hugs."

"That's a steep debt." Sy chuckled.

"She can owe me for a while." Heather laughed. "Is she okay?"

What a loaded question. Physically, she was injured, but would heal. Emotionally, that would be more of a journey.

"Honestly, Heather? Not really. The physical stuff is more or less superficial, but…I'm worried about her mental state."

"Poor thing. Please let me know if I can do anything. Anything at all. She's like a sister to me."

"I will. For now, keep the news and the details quiet. I'm gonna call Susan next, and I don't think she'll like it if you know before she does. Just a hunch."

"An accurate one. She'd be furious. I'll keep mum. Thanks so much for putting my mind at ease, Sy. Take care of her."

"I'll do my best. See ya."

He was dreading talking to Susan the most. More than Clarkson. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but she'd really pissed him off every other time he'd talked to her, and he really didn't think too much of her.

"Hello, this is Susan."

"Hey, Susan, it's Logan Syverson. Shane's boyfriend." He made sure to put the label in there. Remind her that her policy had not been enough to keep them apart.

"Mr. Syverson. Hello. What can I do for you?" her haughty tone was softened a measure with concern for her employee. Even though she didn't ask about her in so many words, he knew that she was wondering.

"Nothing. I just wanted to let ya know, Shane's okay. She's been hurt, and won't be in this coming week, at least. She's in some pain right now, of both a physical and emotional nature."

"What happened?"

"She, uh, hasn't given me a lot of details." Not a lie. "She just escaped from her captor and we found each other." Misleading, but mostly true. "We just got home from the ER." Perhaps a lie by omission of the stop off at Matt's. "They said she'd be okay, but to follow up with her primary for more tests."

"Okay, I'll make sure her schedule is cleared. She has plenty of PTO for these two weeks, but I'll call the FMLA office in charge of family medical leave and short term disability and let them know she'll need some more time off, and see if we can get that going. I'll get with her about the details, and what she'll need to do. I'll text her sometime this week. How's she doing?" Sy thought he heard genuine concern from this dragon woman.

"About as well as someone who's been kidnapped, tortured, and assaulted for a straight week can possibly be, I'd say." Sy's words were civil, but tinged with venom. Even though she was being decent right now, he knew the kind of person she could be.

"Dear God." Susan gasped, shocked at the statement, and Sy wasn't sure whether it was due to the events themselves, or the blunt way he'd told her about them. "Well, I'll do anything I can to help her though this on my end. She's one of my best. I can't…I really don't think I could replace her."

"I'm glad you don't have to try, Susan. Have a nice evenin.'"

"Thanks, Sy, you too."

Sy took a deep breath as he pulled up Clarkson's number and called him. He honestly wasn't completely certain how he was going to explain things, but he'd figure it out. He was good at flyin' by the seat of his pants.

A gruff voice came from the ear piece. "Clarkson."

"Detective, this is Captain Syverson. We spoke about the Benton case a few days ago?"

"I remember you, Sy. What's up?"

"Oh, uh, well, wanted to tell ya you could close the case. I found her." It was the coming conversation in which he would really have to bend the truth or lie altogether.

"Really?! Oh, that's great, man. Where'd ya find 'er."

"I's drivin' 'round, hopin' to come across some lead or sign of her. I was a few miles down highway 100 when I saw a slumped form in one of the ditches. I pulled off at the next drive and went back to check, and it was her. She was hurt, but once she recognized me…I dunno, everything's kind of a blur after that. But I got her checked out at the ER, and brought her home now." Most of that statement was false…but not the recount of them seeing each other for the first time. That was a very real and true fact.

"Highway 100?"

"That's right. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I heard about a terrible, two-vehicle accident on Highway D tonight. No survivors."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He wasn't. "I hope there weren't any kids involved." He knew there weren't.

"Nope. All adult males, aged 30-40. Couple of SUVs. One ran off the road, and another…well, it's almost like it was blown up on purpose. Happened just a few miles from town."

"That sounds horrible, but what does an accident on Highway E--"

"It was D. Highway D." Sy knew it was, and had said the wrong thing on purpose.

"My mistake. My question though, is what does that…tragedy have to do with my finding Shane on Highway 100?"

"That's what I'm wondering, myself, Syverson. See, there was some…evidence that suggests military involvement in this incident."

"Well, I'm retired."

"Are you though?  Is anyone ever really retired from the armed forces. No veteran I've ever talked to can seem to shake off the war shackles."

"Well, I ain't shackeled, detective. I'm proud of my time serving my country, but I got no cause to relive it or hang on to it. Especially now that I have Shane. She's my life now. That part of it’s over."

"I guess I have to take you at your word, captain. Got no evidence so far that ties you to the scene. Just…be careful. If you do anything retaliatory to Miss Benton's captor or captors, I won't be able to protect you, no matter how I feel about your actions. Or how justified they might be."

"Understood. I will keep that in mind should I decide to take matters into my own hands." he tried not to let the smile on his face show in his voice.

"Right, well…is she okay?"

"I, uh…I think she will be…eventually. She hasn't said much to me about what happened, but I know it was torture, or akin to it. "

"Well, I hope she recovers quickly. I'll want a statement from her before I close the case."

"Sure thing. As soon as she's ready to talk."

"Great. Thanks for the call, Sy. I'm glad she's safe now. That's all that matters, really."

"Agree. Have a good night, Clarkson."

He ended the call and rubbed his face as head in frustration with his free hand. They'd have to come up with a story. A good one. Close enough to the truth that Shane could feel comfortable telling it, but far enough of a departure that they weren't incriminated in any kidnapping, murder, or manslaughter charges.

But for tonight, they’d rest. And just be glad to be together again.

Up Next: Chapter 20-Second Assist

[watchtowerindistress]

You’re really mine? — Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Established Relationship!Reader x Bucky Barnes | You meet a Bucky Barnes who awakens from his surgery and is so filled with painkillers that he can’t help flirting with his girlfriend — you.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff (like for real, you’re not safe)

MCU Masterlist

Author’s note: This is a short and sweet one-shot. I felt inspired by that famous video of a man awakening from his surgery, filled with anesthesia. My love for Sebastian Stan has been reignited, and I was up for some fluffy and un-angsty stuff. I hope this can tide you over for those trying times. Stay safe, guys!

Send me a coffee or get exclusive content, if you want to support me!

Just a few more minutes and then you could finally see him.

At least until—

“Oh my God, is Buck okay?”

With your arms folded over your chest, you turned towards the male voice and stepped away from the wall which was holding you upright.

A breath of relief wrenched free from your lips. You waved a hand in the air, soothing his worries. Still, the presence of Sam standing next to Steve took you by surprise.

“He’s fine, Steve. Bucky’s currently resting from the surgery.” Your eyes met Sam’s chocolate-brown ones. “By the way, Sam, what are you doing here?”

The corners of his mouth twitched, as much as he tried to hide the humor on his face. “Can’t I just be a concerned teammate?”

Narrowing your eyes, you let your face remain blank. If there was one thing people loved to point out, then it was how scary and utterly effective both of your resting bitch faces were.

Before you even opened your mouth, Sam replied with his upper body leaning forward in confidentiality and his hands hidden in his pockets, “Okay, you caught me. I heard under good authority that he’s under strong sedatives.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That source being Dr. Cho?”

Those two had been dancing around each other for such a long time that it was giving people whiplash. Bucky was mostly just unimpressed and didn’t waste any opportunity to point that out to him.

Sam’s shoulders shrugged in that gray shirt. “What can I say? It’d be a shame to contain that Wilson charm.”

You uttered an underwhelmed sound that came close to a groan. “Well, I haven’t seen that yet.”

“What exactly happened?” Steve spoke as the voice of reason and tried to get back to the heart of the matter.

“Well…” You put your hands on your waist, retelling the latest events, “the ceiling collapsed. We’re going to have to talk to Tony about those ongoing AIM attacks. I’m seriously done with those.” You pulled in a long breath to get back on track. “Anyway, Bucky pushed me out of the way and took the brunt of the concrete in the process.”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s continuous ways to get you out of the crossfire. “Because of the serum they had to inject him with the stuff that sedates the big green guy in worst case scenarios.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, huffing loudly. “Jesus.”

You pointed with your thumb towards Bucky’s recovery room. “I wanted to wait until you arrived. I’m going to check up on him, if that’s okay with you guys.”

“Sure.” Steve raised a placating hand.

Sam though whispered, “I’d really appreciate it if you could record him being all woozy.” Boisterous laughter wrenched free from his mouth. “That’d be gol— I mean,…” Sam cleared his throat once he noticed your expectant expression. “Or you know, you just reunite with your boyfriend. That’s fine.”

With your head shaking, you turned around and walked towards the room in question.

After the successful surgery, Dr. Cho had managed to alleviate your anxieties and assured you that Bucky was going to be fine … and high on painkillers.

So that part Sam got right.

You were still a bit nervous to see him again. In the end, you just couldn’t help wondering in what condition Bucky would be in.

Biting the bullet, you pressed your hand print against the scanner next to the see-through glass door. It slid open with a whooshing sound.

And sure enough—there he was lying in a hospital bed, breathing slowly. Almost as if sensing your presence, Bucky blinked slowly and just sent you a lazy smile.

“Hey,” you whispered in relief.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Bucky said with a raspy tone. His ocean blue eyes sent your heart aflutter as they glinted in the sunlight. “Are you my doctor?”

Not knowing if Bucky was making a joke or suddenly had another bout of amnesia, you narrowed your eyes with twitching lips. Dr. Cho didn’t mention anything about any neurological damage.

You were seriously hoping that those were the painkillers talking.

“No,” you denied his assumption but still didn’t know how to handle him like this. Being all flirty and irresistible.

A pout was playing on his lips. “Such a pity. I wouldn’t have minded you doing a full physical on me.”

Oh Jesus, he was high as a kite. And that dopey smile was slowly torturing you.

“Someone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Pressing your lips together, you tried to ward off the blush forming on your cheeks.

“I would say you constantly remind me, Bucky.”

“I do?” Confusion and happiness lit up his eyes. “‛s great. Do you want to go out with me?” His Brooklyn accent was even more pronounced with the way he was slurring his words. Bucky’s head swiveled to you, like that thought came to him out of nowhere.

Oh dear God.

He was not wasting any time. In real life, it took Bucky about six months until he finally overcame his darkest thoughts and just asked you out. There was something charming about this shy, brooding guy inviting you to dinner.

It was still a bit weird to be watched by Steve standing a few feet away in the hall and with a giant, proud grin on his face.

“Bucky, do you know who I am?”

His furrowed brow almost seemed adorable on his face. “Why? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Your answer made Bucky wrench his eyes open in shock. “Yes, I do.” It actually felt like you had just kicked a puppy.

“But, wh—”

Unable to torture him, you took him out of his misery. “I’m (Y/N). You’re my boyfriend.”

A wide grin was on the former assassin’s face. “I am?”

You covered your face as giggles left your mouth. Now you were seriously regretting recording his reactions.

“You’re so damn gorgeous when you smile. You’re really mine?”

“Yes.”

Bucky let the back of his head drop against the pillow and rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. “Holy shit! God, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Not really,” he mumbled quietly.

“The ceiling caved in and you just had to play the hero by pushing me out of the way.”

The muscles in his hand twitched. “And you’re alright?”

You nodded with a hum. “Like I said, you’re the one with the heavy anesthesia.”

“I don’t mind, I’d do it again.” His lovey-dovey expression made your heart stutter like you were meeting each other for the first time. “And you really love me?”

You shook your head with laughter. “Yes, I do, you dork.”

Bucky’s head whipped so hard around when something else crossed his mind. “Did we have sex yet?”

You could only hum in affirmation.

Hope shone in his eyes. “Kids?”

“Nope.”

“Do we want kids?”

Your lips twitched with humor. “Maybe. Someday in the future. How about you get some rest? You hit your head pretty hard.” You couldn’t ignore that itching feeling in your hands when your fingers stroked the thick hair at the base of his head.

Bucky closed his eyes and uttered a content purr. “I could rest easily if you would give me a kiss.” He was seriously intending to kill you with those clear blue eyes of his.

“How about later? When you aren’t full of painkillers. And this doesn’t feel weird for me, like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Bucky grunted disappointingly with pouting lips. “You could never. Alright, but you’d better keep your promise.”

A soft look was on your face while gazing at Bucky. “I promise you. Later then.”

“Okay. Love you!” Bucky called from behind you as you turned to the door.

“Love you, too!”

[brywrites]

Flight Risk (Bonus)

You know I can’t leave well enough alone and I just couldn’t resist writing about that scene in the series finale in the context of this story. Spoilers for the finale below, of course! Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. 

Bonus Part: In which a profiler protects a pilot and a pilot loses something important. Five years later.

(Series Masterlist) ( Next )

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“We’re gonna have to make a trade,” Rossi declares. Every head in the room turns to him.

“What kind of trade?” Luke asks.

“Lynch wants to make a clean getaway,” Rossi says. The words hang heavy in the air. Nervous glances are traded across the roundtable as they begin to understand exactly what this means.

“No,” Reid says. “No, we can’t.”

“If we play the cards right, maybe we won’t have to,” Rossi counters.

“Maybe?” he shouts. “I’m not going to risk my wife flying a psychopathic killer across the country in the hopes that maybe we’ve profiled Lynch correctly!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice but he can’t help it. He won’t allow this.

“Hey,” Rossi snaps back. “Right now that psychopathic killer is holding my wife hostage, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Reid signs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.” But still – it’s Y/N. He cannot lose her, not after everything they’ve been through, not when he’s let himself believe for so long that he can keep her safe. Not now, especially not now. “But I don’t want her on that jet with him. And I don’t want Arthur or Martin or Fikayo or any of the BAU pilots on that jet. They’re part of her team, and I won’t do that to her.”

The tension in the room is palpable as he and Rossi stare each other down. They’ve never argued like this before, and Reid hates it but he won’t back down.

“There might be another way,” Emily offers. “We can get a few of the Corps pilots on standby. They’ll have the training to take Lynch out if needed. We tell him they won’t leave U.S. airspace and we go from there. I’ll even have one of them bring the jet out. Y/N doesn’t even need to know.” Right now, Y/N is safe at home, maybe even asleep by now. He tries not to think of how she’d react if she knew that they were about to pawn Geff off to a serial killer. They’ve always treated it as their jet, but while it may fall under their department, they merely use it as a means to an end. Y/N is the captain, if Geff belongs to anyone he belongs to her.

But he knows that if Y/N were the one being held hostage, he’d do whatever it took to get her back. “Okay,” he says.

---

As it turns out, Lynch knows how to fly a plane. He’s taken Rossi as collateral, and Geff is prepared for takeoff. “Prentiss, come on, you said we needed a great plan,” Matt says through gritted teeth.

“And we have one,” she says. “There are things none of you know about that jet.” But Reid kows precisely what she’s talking about, because Y/N knows all of Geff’s secrets. There are hidden compartments Gideon commissioned, and one of them happens to hold a gun. He only hopes it’s enough to stop Lynch and save Rossi. Maybe they can still pull it off and save the day and the jet can return to the hangar without so much as a scratch.

A gunshot rings out through the darkness and they hold their breath – but then it’s two and then three and then Rossi is tumbling down the jet stairs. Prentiss and Matt rush over to grab him off the ground and pull him to safety while the rest of them keep their weapons trained on the cockpit. A smug grin peeks out at them and it makes Reid furious. That monster shouldn’t be sitting there in her seat, on her plane.

As they try to gauge Rossi’s status, Reid fires towards Lynch. Every shot just ricochets, the plane that has kept them safe protecting the man who wants to destroy them. The engines of the jet roar to life. Geff is starting down the runway. Reid and the rest of the team take off running. They shoot at the plane, some aiming for the cockpit, others aiming for the body of the jet.

“Fire at the fuel tank!” Prentiss yells. And so they do, hoping to ensure that Lynch can’t get off the ground. The fuel begins to leak from the tanks, an acidic smell rising in the air as it trails behind the jet.

“Get back!” JJ shouts. “Take cover!” They all do so without hesitation. Reid barely has time to look over his shoulder and see JJ fire the flare gun. This wasn’t part of the plan. The trail of fuel alights in a terrifying blaze and Reid realizes exactly what is about to happen. He can’t help but stare at it one last time – at Geff, the name his beloved pilot has always insisted on calling the jet. The jet that has carried his team to hell and back again. The plane that led him to the greatest love in his life. It’s just a plane, he tries to tell himself. But he knows it’s much more than that.

The explosion is loud and bright and violent. As he ducks he can see the aircraft break into pieces from the force. And when he looks up, it is nothing but a frightening field of flames with a barely intact metal tail sticking out from the fire. The team stands there, staring at the wreckage in a somber silence. The jet meant something to all of them. It only feels right to mourn its passing quietly.

But then it hits him. “Y/N is going to kill me,” Reid says. Luke is the first to laugh, and soon the whole team is chuckling, shaking their heads. It breaks the tension hanging over them.

“Yeah good luck with that,” Luke says, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m serious!” Reid squeaks. “How am I supposed to tell her we killed her plane?”

“That’s rough buddy,” Matt says, clapping him on the shoulder. This sends JJ and Luke into further laughter. The smell of kerosene is strong, and it’s time to go. They get Rossi and Krystal and pack into the SUVs, leaving the burning past behind them.

---

Love is a safe place to land, and there’s nowhere he wants to touch down more than in her embrace. When he gets home, he finds Y/N still awake in their bed, rereading Peter Pan. “Oh thank goodness you’re home,” she says. He sits down beside her and she throws her arms around him. “I was so worried about you. What happened? Is everyone okay?”

He kisses the top of her forehead. “Lynch is dead,” he tells her. “And we’re all safe.”

“I’m so glad.” He keeps his hold on her though, and she pulls back, her eyebrows knit together. “Something’s bothering you though,” she says. “What is it?”

He sighs and she weaves her fingers through his, holding tight. “It was a hard case,” he admits. “And I was so scared that something might happen to you. But um… there was something that we didn’t plan for.” She blinks at him, waiting for him to continue. “Lynch was trying to escape first. He took Krystall hostage and threatened to hurt her if we didn’t make a trade.”

“What kind of trade?”

“He uh… he wanted Geff?” The word comes out like a question as his voice betrays his anxiety.

“No.” A single syllable of disbelief.

“We – we had to bring the jet to him. But we couldn’t let him get away, so we had to improvise?”

Her expression changes. She stares at him as though he’s told her an awful joke or made some sort of outrageous claim. As if she is desperately waiting for him to tell her it’s all made up. When doesn’t say anything, she narrows her eyes. “Spencer Reid, what did you to my plane?”

“Angel,” he says, dropping his voice to as gentle a tone as he can muster. He doesn’t want to hurt her but there’s no way around this. “I promise I tried everything. But we didn’t have a choice. He took Rossi hostage and then forced him down the stairs by shooting him. If we didn’t stop him, who knows what he would have done.” He pauses and squeezes her hand. “We tried to shoot out the fuel tanks but we weren’t fast enough. The leaking fuel made a trail though and JJ found a flare gun and… um, we kind of blew up the jet.”

“You what?” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Geff is gone? You blew him up? Spencer, that was my plane! My plane!” She begins to cry and he hugs her close. At first she resists him, but after a moment she leans against his chest. He rests his head in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in the fresh smell of her perfume in the hopes it will erase the scent of burning kerosene. “I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling. “I know I’m being silly. I would rather have Rossi okay, and I’m glad he’s safe. I just… Geff meant a lot to me, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

“It’s like saying goodbye to a dear friend. Oh and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye!” she cries. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

He pulls away to smile at her, running a soothing hand through her hair. “It’s a little too early for that. I think you’re just grieving something very important to you. A captain and her jet share a special bond,” he assures her, parroting back a phrase she and Arthur have said many a time. But he believes it. That jet has been an extension of herself for nearly four years. “But maybe this will be a new chapter. A new era, a new jet… and in seven months, a new member of our family.”

Y/N wipes her eyes, nodding. “Yeah. A new chapter.” She gives him a slight smile. Amelia leaps onto the bed between them, nudging her head against Y/N’s arm and purring, as if to reassure her that all will be well. She smiles and strokes the cat’s soft fur. “I’m grateful though, you know?” she says. “That that plane brought us together. And so much has happened since then.”

And so it has. True to his word, Arthur retired the day after Christmas that year, and she was promoted to captain. Fikayo was hired as her co-pilot, and instantly fit in with the BAU team. Y/N, and that first conversation they had together, completely altered the relationship between the pilots and profilers. Suddenly their worlds didn’t seem so separate anymore. Yeeqin and Saoirse got married in the most wonderfully non-traditional celebration that involved fireworks, a wall of donuts, and neon-colored gnomes. He moved in with Y/N, and soon enough their was a proposal and a wedding of their own, one attended by profilers and pilots alike where he nearly tripped over her feet as they swayed to Birdy and when she kissed him he could’ve sworn he was floating. There were dozens of cases, being framed for murder, a cult, and more. A new house and new team members and a baby on the way and a million stories and kisses and flights between it all.

Y/N reaches a hand up to caress his cheek and that smile of hers still manages to melt his heart every single time. He leans in to kiss her as sweetly as he did after their first real date and as deeply as she did the time she managed to pull from him exactly how he felt about her uniform. Eventually Amelia meows in indignation at the lack of attention she is receiving, and he pulls away to placate her by rubbing her ears.

“So I think you owe me a plane, Doctor,” Y/N teases.

“On a government salary?” he laughs. “That might take a while. But I’ll put in enough overtime to buy you a whole fleet if that would make you happy.”

Through it all, they’re happy. Reid is happy. So incredibly over the moon happy every single day that they’re together. They lie down in bed and he holds her close and whispers promises of the jet of her dreams and he can feel her laughter against his chest.

If he had to do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat, so long as it means being here by her side. A profiler and his beloved pilot. The future stretching out before them like the infinite horizon.

[justauthoring]

never ending nightmare

Request: I HAVE AN IDEA!! what about reader being caught in Wanda's brain trap magick and they see Steve dying or in danger and they can't move and it's sad and angsty and I'd crie. Do u do happy endings? It's up to you and your amazing brain!! 😁💕 Requested by: @awkwardspontaneity​

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Word Count: 1,146 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

It happened with a blink.

There a been a blur of some red; maybe a light. You remember it glowing. Floating. And then you’d blink and suddenly you were...

Well, truthfully, you didn’t really know where you were.

You’re alone, wherever you are. All that surrounds you is trees. So, you’re obviously in some sort of forest, but it’s nowhere you recognize. Nothing you can distinctly recall, especially having ever been before. It’s completely new terrain, and you have no idea how you even wounded up here.

“Hello?” Your voice is a light, a mere whisper, and you’re not sure why you can’t force yourself to speak any louder then that. Your entire body is tight with nerves, tense, you feel your muscles pulsing painfully, trying to force yourself to be braver than you feel. Because you’re afraid, more so then you’re sure you’ve ever been. It’s like this instinctual feeling, deep inside your gut that makes no sense, nor can you explain.

But it’s there. And it twists and fills your entire feeling with anxiety and panic.

Taking a step forward, your legs feeling like lead they’re so heavy, you have no other choice but to walk. You don’t have any of your weapons on you, leaving you completely defenseless, and even more so vulnerable as you wander aimlessly, without any real plan or aim.

You walk for five minutes, nothing more, when a cry catches your attention. It instantly halts you to a stop, breath hitching, and you swear the cry is a voice you’ve heard before. So distinctively familiar but you can’t exactly place it. You call out once more, head spinning every which way in search of the source of the voice. But, you find nothing.

Another step and you’re name being cried out this time. It cuts through the silence, and it’s then you realize just how eerily quiet it had been. It’s almost insufferable and you’re not sure how it hadn’t bothered you before, because now it feels as if the silence is swallowing you whole.

But it doesn’t last long.

“Y/N! Help... help me!”

That’s... That’s Steve!

You break out in a run, once again aimlessly, no lead or aim, but hoping to be following the right direction to where Steve is. And even though it makes sense and you definitely should be lost, you make it to Steve and your heart breaks almost instantly at the sight of him. He’s laid out on his back, a pool of blood around him, surrounding him, coating him, and he’s writhing in pain, skin pale, body shaking, his wide in panic.

Your name leaves your lips in a shriek and you skid to your knees next to him, hands beginning to shake as you look at his wound first. It’s bad. Worse then bad. The bleeding won’t stop and with nothing and no idea where you are, you know, in the back of your mind, there’s no way for you to help him. 

When you meet Steve’s eyes, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Steve, I--”

“Why?” He croaks out, voice raspy, quiet and desperate but it’s still sharp. It causes you to blink in surprise, body jerking in response as you freeze, beyond baffled. “Why did you leave me?”

“Steve, I...” You shake your head, holding your hands out before you uselessly. There’s nothing you can do, you don’t know what to do. All you can manage is to sputter out a string of words that make no coherent sense, trying to make sense of everything, willing deep inside of your heart that Steve won’t die.

But you know he will.

“Steve, please, don’t. I... I can get help, somehow... it’ll be okay. I--”

“You left me.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“You left me.”

“No, I didn’t. No, I--”

“You did!”

“Steve, please--”

His eyes widen and then they dull. You watch as they turn lifeless, and his body turns limp and he... he dies. Right in front of you. And you didn’t do anything, couldn’t do anything.

You... You couldn’t save him.

A cry leaves your lips and you pull at him, as if that’ll bring him back. You pull and tug and pray and plead that he’ll blink and his heart will start beating again and his chest will rise and fall with his breath. But it doesn’t happen.

Nothing happens.

-

“I can’t get her to wake up. She’s... She’s in rough shape.”

Steve says the words without ever taking his eyes off of you. Thor next to him frowns at the sight of him, and there’s an air of silence as no one really knows what to do. Normally, Steve would be trying to lead the group, create some order, but he can’t seem to bother to focus on anyone else other then you as you look blankly past him, with this look of dread in your eyes.

You’re crying out his name softly but no matter how much Steve tries to tell you he’s hear, you don’t snap out of your revere.

Tony orders the group to retreat. No one argues. Natasha’s as banged up as you, and the entire group is deadly silent on the way back to the compound. Never relenting his grip on you, Steve holds you tight and safely in his arms, the first one back in the compound, and brings you up to your room without another word.

It’s not until an hour later that you snap out of you.

You start with a gasp, body rigid, sitting up as a scream pierces your lips. It snaps Steve to attention and he rises, rushing towards you, trying to grab you and assure you you’re okay, but you’re screaming and your eyes are spinning every which way as if in search of something you can’t find.

“Y/N, Y/N! I’m here! It’s okay! You’re safe! You’re back at the compound! You’re okay!”

It’s that that pulls your attention on him.

You turn to him with a blink, screams falling silent as you’re tired and panicked eyes meet Steve’s own. And while he can’t rightly explain it, you’re more then just relieved to see him there. It’s almost is if you’re shocked, stunned that he’s there, holding you.

In the next second, you’re falling against him, breathless.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

“You were...” And your voice is cracked, raspy. You hesitant, Steve can both hear and feel your heart pounding madly against your chest. You’re still shaking in his grasp, but at the same time, you seem content and happy to be in his arms. You hold tight, with no intention of letting go. “I watched you die... I thought...”

Your words puzzle Steve but he doesn’t ask you to elaborate, just holding you tighter as he tries to soothe you.

“It wasn’t real,” he whispers, “it wasn’t real.”

-

Let me know what you thought?

[hulahoopingholt]

a promise lives within you now

ANYWAY I told myself I’d start writing some happy B99 fic post-finale and then the finale happened so this happened instead. Title taken from Enya's May It Be because of course we need some Enya and this one has always been one of my faves. Also on AO3.

Everything is happening so fast.

There’s the guilty verdict, and then Jake knows he’s speaking, saying something, although he can’t be sure what it is, if the words are even English (well, they probably are, it’s the only language he knows; Amy has pretty much failed teaching him any useful Spanish whatsoever), or if they’re even words at all. But he knows his lips are moving, and sounds are coming out of them, and as rapidly as it’s all happening, they can’t possibly be spilling forth as quickly as all the thoughts are dashing about in his brain because there’s no way, there’s just no way…

He keeps talking, doesn’t even pause for a breath, because if he does, it’ll mean it’s stopped. If he does, it means this is the end. If it does, it means they’ll snap the cuffs around his wrists with a soft clink and he’ll be lead out of the courtroom and then stuffed into the back of a squad car and then to jail to jail to…

Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool --

The sound of the cuffs closing around his wrists echoes like a gunshot in his mind.

And if things had been moving in hyperspeed before, now it was hyperspeed on speed and cocaine and whatever other drugs Hawkins was hawking, all strapped into a rogue car on a sky high roller coaster, hurdling through twists and turns before crashing into a runaway train.

He feels like he’s about to throw up.

It’s loud, so loud, deafening, even. He knows there are people talking to him, shouting his name, some voices he recognizes, others that are probably reporters or Hawkins’ cronies. But his skin is burning so hot, and everything’s jumbling together in a crazy rush, and it’s like being trapped in a madhouse, or a fun house, or --

He blinks, and for a split second he’s back at the Fun Zone, gun drawn, waiting, ready, prepared. The operation is dangerous, and could go wrong at any second, but Jake’s got this, he knows his game, and he has the Nine-Nine at his back. No matter what.

The vision, along with its accompanying sense of complete confidence even in the face of death and disaster, vanishes before his eyelids can manage their second descent.

There’s pressure at his back, and somehow he’s moving forward. He catches a brief glimpse of Rosa’s face, her expression even more closed off than he’s ever seen, before a guard turns her around and marches her away from him. If he could stretch out his arm, she’d be close enough to touch (not that he would, of course, no touchy), but at the moment she might as well be on another planet.

And there’s nothing he can do. Nothing. He’ll be behind bars for fifteen years, fifteen years, powerless, helpless, forced to wait as time ticks on by, leaving him behind and ripping him away from everything and everyone he loves. Fifteen years sitting in a six by eight foot cell while his friends go on without him. Amy becoming captain, Gina having her baby, Terry marketing his own brand of yogurt… the world may jolt to a stop for him, but it wouldn’t stop for any of them. And who even knows what would happen to Rosa? She’ll probably take the farthest flight out of New York she can find the second she gets out, start a new identity where she lets even fewer people into her life. Probably nobody at all.

No. This is it. This is the end. It’s fine. He’ll pick up a hobby. Maybe running. Running could be good. It would also come in handy when he inevitably runs into one of the murderers he put away for life. Cool. Cool cool cool cool coolcoolcoolcool...

He doesn’t know how, but somehow, even though he was just at the front of the courtroom, he’s now standing by the door.

Like Usain Bolt.

Amy.

Her name cuts through all the noise in his head, and as if right on cue (and honestly, it probably was; Amy is always right on time, even when the world is falling apart without warning), there she is, waiting for him. He can see her lips moving, and he tries so hard to make out what she’s saying, but it’s still loud, it’s so loud, there’s pandemonium all around him and it’s forcing its way back inside his head too, and --

She presses her hand on his, and then that’s all there is.

It’s cold, of course. Amy’s hands are always cold, even on sticky, sweltering days in the middle of summer. Right now, he’s never been more grateful. He focuses everything he has on that spot where their skin touches, her cool hand on his burning one, and, finally, time begins to slow down. The chaos boiling inside his head falls down to a low simmer, and as he forces himself to draw a long, controlled breath, the rest of the courtroom fades away. There’s no longer shouting all around him, but the unmistakable otherworldly harmonies of Enya and her choir of angels.

“Jake,” Amy says. “Jake.”

They’re not in the courtroom anymore. They’re sitting on the roof, looking down at the cars driving by down the street below. And even though they’re in one of the most populated cities in the world, right now, they’re the only two people on this earth. Jake nudges Amy’s shoulder with his own, drawing forth a laugh from her that makes him fall just a little bit more in love with her.

He looks down at her hand, at her bare ring finger, and then he finds himself down on one knee, holding out the ring he’s been saving up for ever since he saw Amy’s eyes linger on it just a touch too long at the jewelry store by their apartment. His hands are shaking as he slips it onto her finger, and when he looks up he realizes that she’s smiling through her tears. Amy pulls him up and he holds her hand over his heart. In that moment he knows he can stay here like this forever, kissing her, loving her, content.

When they part, there’s a loud cheer, and Jake’s smiling so hard it’s almost painful, but he doesn’t care. He holds Amy’s hand in the air in triumph, and the cheering grows even louder. She’s beaming, and in that moment Jake finally understands what it means to call someone radiant. Radiant, in her white gown and veil as she looks over at him, quite literally glowing with love. They walk down the aisle, still hand-in-hand, stopping to accept their friends’ well wishes along the way. Terry pulls them both into a hug so tight Jake’s briefly afraid he’ll lose consciousness. Charles is weeping, of course, but Jake is surprised (and delighted!) to see that even Holt has a stray tear in his eye. Gina attempts to ambush them with a handful of rose petals, but it’s hard to do when also attempting to wrangle a wriggly toddler who is determined to wrestle Amy’s veil off her head. Amy only laughs and presses a kiss to one chubby cheek.

Chubby cheeks and tiny feet and little hands that reach up to curl around his finger. Jake carefully adjusts his daughter in his arms so he can join Amy where she’s resting on the couch. She immediately curls up next to him, covering his hand with hers so they can hold their child's hand together, and he drops a kiss on the top of her head. This perfect world they’ve built together is growing, and will only grow fuller with time.

One moment cascades into another, and then another. In their home, at the precinct, on a plane to Paris. Amy in evening gowns, Amy in one of Jake’s plaid shirts, Amy in her captain’s uniform. Years upon years of memories not yet born flowing into each other, washing over him, of all those perfect days of loving Amy, basking in the pleasure that comes from knowing you have all the time in the world.

“Jake! Listen to me.”

No. Not this time. He can’t. He tries to focus on Enya, wills the steady, soothing sounds to grow louder. Because if they do, he can still live in that moment. He can still see a future for them, he can still feel Amy’s hand on his, he can --

“Jake!”

Amy shakes his hand, hard, and Jake is thrust back into reality.

Fifteen years. Fifteen years. None of this can happen. Not with fifteen years between them. Fifteen years. Fiftenyears. Fifteenyearsfifteenyearsfifteenyearsfifteenfifteenfifteen.

“Look at me.”

Nobody in their right mind would say no to that voice, so he does. He was afraid she’d look devastated, and she does. There are tears in her eyes, and her nose is red, and Jake’s aching to break out of his handcuffs so he can hold her and promise her it’ll be okay, even if he can’t believe it himself right now.

But more than that, she looks strong. And determined.

And unbelievably pissed off.

“This isn’t over. We’re going to get you out of there.”

“Amy, you saw her. We punch once, she punches back twice.”

“And we punch back again,” Amy says. “No matter what. We won’t give up on you.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Jake mutters. “I should have dug deeper while I was still out. I could've found something.”

“We’ll figure it out."

“It’s fifteen years,” Jake says. “That’s a long time to wait if --”

“I don’t plan on just waiting,” Amy says. “I plan on fighting. Those fifteen years belong to you, and to Rosa.” She juts her chin out. “And to us. I’m not letting her just rip them away.”

Jake’s vision grows blurry. “Ames.”

“And you have to keep fighting, too.” Amy’s tears, which so far had managed to stay safely contained, were now threatening to spill forth. “Promise me. You have to keep fighting.”

“How am I supposed to --”

“Just trust me,” Amy says. “Trust me. That’s all I ask.”

Jake forces a weak smile. “Never had trouble with that before.”

Amy laughs -- it’s a weak laugh, and she sounds exhausted, but goddamnit, if there’s one thing Jake Peralta can do, it’s make Amy laugh, no matter what, and that small victory in the face of this minor apocalypse is enough to make think maybe it would be okay after all.

“Move along, Peralta. You can talk to your girlfriend during visiting hours.”

He draws a deep breath, and as he exhales, Amy is there, covering his mouth with her own. The kiss is all too brief, but it’s sweet and perfect and seals their promise to each other.

“Move, Peralta!”

“I love you,” he says. “So much.”

“I love you so much, too,” Amy whispers.

She doesn’t release his hand until the guard has pulled them far enough apart that they can no longer touch.

But Jake can still feel the lingering coolness of her hand on his skin, and Enya’s voice is once again echoing throughout his mind.

If all it takes is believing in Amy, they’ve got this covered.

This time is theirs.

[idiot-detectives]

I’m very late on my personal deadline for this but here’s my present for @mugiwarasinger ! I was your secret santa, I hope I got a good mix of everything you enjoy! (I hope I also posted this correctly, I’ve never posted a fic on Tumblr before haha)

 @dcmksecretsanta Title: Cuffed Synopsis: KID had expected to be caught once day - just not like this. When an old foe shows up he find himself having to protect both himself and his unexpected second party from disaster.

A bright white suit jumped across the gap between buildings, his white cape flashing in the moonlight from the full moon. KID landed on the building, rolling hard. He hissed in pain as he stood up, rubbing his elbow. He cursed his luck, of all nights for his glider to get stuck closed. He was lucky he didn’t jump before deploying it, he had just oiled it too!

“Wait!!”

 KID looked back, seeing a police officer leap over the building as well. His brown coat was torn from the chase, his face scuffed as well. He recognized it as the officer assigned to crowd control for his heist today, his name was Takagi if KID recalled right. He had been chasing him for what felt like hours now, the thief was beginning to grow annoyed. 

“Dang.” KID muttered, Impressed with the officer, “He’s good.”

Takagi soon fell over wheezing, his hands placed on his knees. A concerned expression fell onto KID’s face, was he okay?

“Um… Are you good?” KID asked.

“Just… Fine!” Takagi wheezed, holding up a hand, “I’ll… get you! I swear!”

“Right… You have fun with that.” KID muttered, turning his back on the officer.

 He pulled open the door to the roof, luckily someone left it unlocked, rushing down the stairs. He soon heard footsteps following quickly behind him.

“He recovered fast…” KID muttered, checking a nearby door.

The door clicked open, but KID wasn’t fast enough.

“Kaitou KID, You’re under arrest- Woah!” Takagi tripped down the stairs, crashing headfirst into the thief. 

He felt something cold wrap around his wrist as he hit the ground. KID groaned, sitting up on the cold concrete floor. The room was dark, there weren’t even any lights from what little he could see. He lifted a hand up to his forehead to soothe his aching head, but ended up in confusion as his wrist ended heavier than he last felt it. 

“Oof!” Takagi groaned as sat up, KID felt his arm get pulled as he did so. 

KID swallowed as he lifted his arm, only to find the officer yelp in surprise as he was pulled down. A silver cuff sat on his sleeve, he followed the chain to see the other somehow managed to attach itself to the officer’s own wrist. KID sighed, this was just what he needed.

“K-Kaitou KID, I have you under arrest… You’ll be coming with-” Takagi continued with his speech as KID stood up, pulling the officer with him. 

“Sorry, I’ve got places to be-” KID mumbled, reaching into his pocket, “Ah-le?”

His fingers hit a hole at the bottom of the secret pocket, his lockpicks were gone. He patted down his other pockets, feeling no trace of the coveted lockpicks. He cursed audibly, just what exactly was he supposed to do now?

A door slamming from the bottom of the building didn’t help his anxiety either.

 “What… are you doing?” Takagi asked, curious.

 “Sorry, but that’s confidential.” KID teased with a smirk, “I’d love to tell you but I’m afraid it just isn’t in your best interests.”

 “.... Excuse me?”

“Like I said, I’ll be seeing you.” KID reached over to the front pocket of the officer’s suit jacket, startling him as the thief reached in.

 No luck finding a key, KID was quickly pushed off of Takagi as he got his bearings.

 “D-Don’t do that!” The officer stammered, “Just what were you hoping to find??”

 “Honestly, A key or something. You do have a key to get yourself out, right?”

 “Of course I do! It’s right-” Takagi pat his pocket, his face grew cold and he froze. 

“... Let me guess…” KID sighed, “It’s missing, right?”

Takagi made a few flustered noises as he searched his remaining pockets. He nodded sheepishly, much to KID’s annoyance. 

“Looks like we’re stuck together then, I’m afraid. Unless you have some sort of wire on you, Then that would be-”

KID froze. 

Footsteps started coming up the stairs, heavy at the bottom but as they reached the floor the two were on grew lighter. KID couldn’t be sure of how many there exactly were,  he pulled Takagi further into the shadows, hiding behind a pillar. 

“Hey-!”

 KID shushed the officer, “Be quiet.”

“Just what’s-”

KID put a gloved hand over Takagi’s mouth, nervously peering around the edge of the pillar. The door opened and two men stepped in, followed by one very familiar face. 

“Snake…” KID growled.

“Find him. He’s here somewhere.” Snake ordered the two men beside him. 

They nodded, both clicked on the flashlights they carried. KID pulled his head back as the light flashed over it, barely missing him. 

“Damn it… Why are they here?”

He felt a hand slapping against his own, he looked down at Takagi who was desperately attempting to pry KID’s hand from his mouth. He quickly removed it as Takagi quietly gasped for breath. The two remained silent as one of the men slowly approached their hiding spot, their breath staggered with nerves. The man approached closer and closer, KID’s heart beat in his ears. He needed to do something fast unless-!

“Sir!” Another man ran through the door, pushing it open. 

Snake turned round, aiming his gun towards the man. 

“You’d better have a good reason for this…” He growled.

The man whispered something quietly, causing Snake to curse loudly. 

“Seal the entrances! He’s getting away!” 

The men cleared the room, and as soon as they had left KID pulled Takagi out and into the stairwell. 

“Wait, Wait Wai-!” Takagi shouted, flailing as he fell into the white-garbed thief. 

“Who’s there?!” Someone shouted from above them.

“Ngh! Down, Now!” KID commanded, and continued to pull Takagi down the stairwell.

“Who are these people?!” Takagi asked as the two rushed downstairs.

“People who don’t really like me.” KID simply explained, running into the next floor down.

 He slammed open the stairwell, revealing what looked to be an abandoned office block.

 “I think that’s an understatement, What’s going on?” Takagi wheezed.

“They want to kill me, That’s what’s going on.” KID muttered, scanning the room, “Hey, Help me with this.” He pointed to a cubicle wall that looked like it was nearly about to fall apart from the bottom.

 “Huh?”

“We’re going to block the door. It’ll buy us some time to get these cuffs off and figure out a way out.” 

“R-Right.”

The two pushed the wall over with relative ease, Turns out Takagi was stronger than he appeared. With some effort, the door to the floor was securely blocked, however it wouldn’t be long before Snake found some way through it or around it. Not to mention, as far as they knew, the two were now trapped inside.

“... Now what?” Takagi whispered, looking around the dark room.

 “We set up a trick. I am a magician after all. We’ll create a miracle to get us out of here.” KID smirked.

 Takagi nodded slowly, his eyes glancing down at the floor. 

“Er, Why exactly do they want to kill you? I think I deserve at least that much if I’m going to die next to you.”

KID laughed quietly.

 “That’s the question, isn’t it? They’re also after what I’m looking for, and I’ve gotten in their way I suppose is the easy answer.” 

“Easy answer?”

KID pulled up a fallen piece of concrete, cursing quietly. “I’m not going to give you all my secrets, Keiji-san.”

“I suppose not…” Takagi glanced at the ceiling, the moonlight from the windows helped slightly in figuring out the room. 

“Now tell me, You’re rather brave for a police officer. Why’d you chase me so far? Seems like a lot of effort.” KID asked. 

“... I wanted to impress a girl.” Takagi sheepishly admitted.

 KID snorted through his nose.

 “What?! You don’t do stupid stuff to impress the people you love??” 

“Oh no, I understand more than you know. That’s why I can’t die here, and that goes for you too.” KID turned to face Takagi, “Now, Seen anything that can be used to pick a lock?”

“Unfortunately no. This place is completely abandoned…”

“TOICHI!” Snake’s voice echoed past the door, “We know you’re IN THERE!”

KID’s face dropped, a hint of fear visible in his one visible eye. 

“Your name is Toichi?” Takagi inquired.

“No. But they don’t know that.” KID muttered solemnly, “Let’s hurry, We’re almost done here.” 

“I-I see…”An uncomfortable silence hung between them as KID fiddled with something hidden behind a wall.“

I’m not telling you my real name.” KID stated.

“I wasn’t asking…”

“You wanted to though.”

“I-” Takagi frowned, “Okay, I’m curious, yes. But so is the rest of the world… You’d better be careful.” 

“I don’t need you telling me that, Keiji-san. I’m perfectly aware of that-” A loud crash cut KID off, the sound of a gunshot set both on edge. 

“Great, They’re here…” Takagi cursed, glancing at the cuff, “No more time to be picky, we HAVE to get this off now!”

“I know, I know!” The two jumped behind cover as a bullet flew past them. 

“Damn, Just a little longer…!” KID muttered, glancing around the corner. 

He recoiled as his monocle was shot off his face, a small scratch left on the side of his cheek.

 “KID!” Takagi hissed as the thief recoiled back.

 “I’m fine, That.. was too close...” The thief gasped.

 Takagi tried to get a closer look at the wound, but KID pulled his hat down further over his eyes. He could see a trickle of blood, but at least it didn’t seem like a life threatening amount.

 “... I have an idea, Keiji-san, But you’ll need to trust me.” KID muttered. 

“Huh?”

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’ll get you out safely - for the one who’s waiting for you.”Takagi frowned at KID, who smiled back with a smirk. 

“You have a girl you need to impress, do you not?” 

The officer flushed red, KID’s smirk turned into a grin at seeing Takagi in this state. 

“Fine, Let’s do this then…” He whispered over another gunshot. 

“On my mark.” KID muttered, picking up his fallen monocle.

 He looked dismayed as the glass was shattered completely, he placed the frame on his face anyways once he gave it a quick wipe with his glove. Takagi nodded in response, his eyes glancing down at the cuff between the two. 

“Toichi! You’re just making this harder on all of us! Get out! Now!” Snake called from somewhere in the office.

 KID gestured to move forward, slowly crouching down and moving. Takagi had no choice but to follow. 

“There!” A voice shouted, the sounds of gunfire caused the two to start running. 

“What the he-?!” One of the men fell behind them, landing on the ground hard.

 KID snickered, pulling the thin thread in his hand tighter. Another man fell somewhere else in the office, cursing loudly. The one behind the two began to slowly be pulled away by his ankles by an invisible force. KID choked out a laugh as the two ran towards the stairway. Takagi was impressed, He didn’t quite understand what he was supposed to have been doing but the fact that KID thought of this idea that quickly impressed the officer. 

A gunshot drew their attention from behind them, and KID’s wrist suddenly felt free. Takagi stumbled forward, the lack of force pulling him threw him off. The two ran through the stairwell door and down the stairs. Takagi had to stop before they reached the roof, his lungs burned and his feet felt like they were on fire. 

“What are you doing?” KID asked. 

“We gotta do something about those downstairs, They’ll just get away if we-”KID shushed him, holding three fingers up.

 “Three… Two…” A devilish smile curled onto KID’s lips, “One.”

Suddenly, police sirens began to echo around the entire building, someone began shouting from outside. The sound of scrabbling feet and gunshots echoed from the top floors down the stairs.

“What?? When did you-??” “I never called anyone. There’s no chance we’d be able to catch them in an ambush like this, It’s better to live to fight another day. Although, If you act now we might be able to get his accomplices.” KID smirked, “I doubt they’re getting out of those threads anytime soon.”

 Takagi stared at KID, astonished. “Just… who are you?”

KID tilted his hat down below his eyes. “Just a simple magician, That’s all. You’d better get calling, Keiji-san.”

 “You’re not going to tell me how you got these noises, are you?”

“Nope.” KID stuck his tongue out, “Oh, and Sorry, Looks like you aren’t impressing that girl anytime soon.”

“You’re not leaving me here, are you?!” Takagi gasped.

 “My partner should have the real police here soon as well, Two calls should have them coming twice as fast right?” “That’s not… how it works…”

KID pressed the button on his glider, hoping that it finally wanted to work with him for once. The glider popped open with a groan, Takagi really hoped that the glider was safe enough for him to use. 

“Well then, May we meet again.” KID nodded. 

“So you really are just leaving me here, huh?” 

Police sirens began to grow audible in the distance, KID gestured in their general direction. 

“You’ll be fine. They’re almost here. Make sure those guys get locked up for me, okay? I’d really appreciate it if I didn’t have as many people trying to kill me out there.” He turned to face the edge of the building, “It’s getting really annoying, you know?”

KID jumped off the building with a running start, Takagi simply sighed. Once again, he found himself cleaning up after the messes other people make. Somehow, he didn’t feel as bad this time.

[sweet-barnes]

Snake Eyes - part eleven

Pairing: mob!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: gunfire and talks of injuries

Summary: ‘Snake eyes’ meaning the worst possible result; a complete lack of success. Getting caught up between two of the biggest mobs in the city was never how you expected your night to go, and falling for a mob boss can only end in disaster.

A/N: ahh it’s all going down now! i hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed!

Snake Eyes Masterlist

Part 10

Bucky’s head was reeling.

The more Rumlow kept talking, the more he believed him, the more he saw you as this woman separate from the one he had come to know. A woman who betrayed him. 

It was all an act. The soft moments you two had shared. The rambling texts from each other that had found a place in his heart, he looked forward to those texts every morning and night. The moments he would get to see you, even if it was just for a couple of minutes, they made his days so much brighter and happier.

It was all a lie. 

“She gave us the details of where your next raid would be, that’s how we’re all stood here right now,” Rumlow had started walking around the club, still keeping his tight grip on your arm, forcing you to walk with him. “In case you were wondering, she’s been in on this since the beginning.”

You felt the shame creep into your bones. There were so many moments you could have told any single one of the Commandos the truth and you avoided it every time. 

Every time you told yourself it was to protect them, but it was more likely to protect you. And now look where you were. 

Natasha was the first one to question the situation, her voice was strong and steady as she spoke against Rumlow . “So you beat up your own sister to get at Bucky?”

Rumlow simply scoffed, and Nat carried on. “Some brother you are, your enemies mean more than your own family, you’re just a piece of scum.” Her nose turned up as she looked at him with disgust. You couldn’t tell whether Natasha believed his words or not, even so, she didn’t agree with the mans actions either way. 

“I’ll give it you,” Rumlow responded, looking down at you, “hurting her doesn’t show my brotherly love towards her, but it had to be done, she agreed and allowed me to do it, doesn’t that make her just as bad as me?”

Your breathing became heavier at his words, at the way he was lying through his teeth to these people you had grown close with over the past few months. These people you considered friends. They probably believed every word he was saying.

Bucky still hadn’t said a word. You were desperate for him to say something, for him to give away whether he saw the truth in what Rumlow was saying or whether he was going to stick by you. His eyes lingered downwards as he soaked in all the new information that was being thrown around. His mind couldn’t handle it. 

Your eyes were drawn to a subtle movement by Sam’s side, at this point he was the closest one to you. A dark object in his hand caught your eye and when you looked up, his gaze was already set on you. There was a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. Resentment, perhaps? Contempt?

Before anymore thoughts could form in your mind, Sam’s arm had snapped upwards and the gun became clear in his hand, aiming in your direction.

The sound of gunfire echoed once again throughout the air, Rumlow jolted you both towards the ground, frantically dragging you along with him as he tried to make his way back to his men. You kicked and screamed above the sound of shooting, kicking at his legs to knock him off balance.

His turned his face back to you, his teeth gritted. “You want to stay? I’d like to see you survive on your own.” His tight grip finally released, you could already feel the bruises starting to form on your skin.

Rumlow stood, towering over you, seeming to avoid the bullets flying through the enclosed space. He pulled his gun from his holster and everything seeming to happen in slow motion before you as he moved to aim his gun directly at you. You tried to move, but your body ached, it seemed as though you were stuck to the ground.

A gunshot sounded from somewhere near your side, further into the room, and you saw Rumlow’s body jolt as he was hit. The bullet only brushed his arm, he hissed as he moved to take a better look. 

He flipped as soon as he saw it, turning his gun towards you again and firing a single shot before lifting it and taking aim at whoever had taken shots at him.

The sound of his gun became faint as your body registered the pain the was searing through your right shoulder, spreading more and more with each second. Your breathing became shallow as tears came to your eyes. You felt liken you needed to throw up but there was nothing there. You knew you had to do something but you were in shock. 

A high pitched ringing became prominent in your ears as you looked around for any familiar faces for help.

All you saw were Rumlow’s men, dressed in dark burgundy suit surrounding you. Your thoughts instantly predicted your future, being taken away by them. Being taken away from Bucky forever. But they rushed past you, to the end of your feet where you were just noticing Rumlow’s body crumpled there. 

He was still moving, ever so slightly, and when his men picked him up to carry him to safety, he howled out in pain. Blood was dripping from his body and it clearly marked their exit route. 

You felt someone moving your arm, more tears streaming from your eyes as pressure was applied to stop the flow of blood. You broke your eyes away from the retreating bodies and looked up to meet Natasha’s face, her red hair falling down and brushing lightly against your skin.

“Come on, Y/N, you’ve got to stay with me,” she whispered. Were they tears falling down her cheeks? You took a deep breath, focusing on her green eyes and trying to keep with her. 

You could hear muffled voices around you, orders being given out by Steve for a group to follow Rumlow and his men, to catch them in their escape. They were still a threat as long as Rumlow was alive. 

Sam’s face came into view next to Nat’s, and he gave you a pained yet goofy grin as he looked down at you. “It’s not been a good day for you, has it?” He joked, and as the echo of a smile came onto your face, he looked pleased with himself at your reaction. 

“I’m going to pick you up okay? We need to get you to Bruce as soon as possible, don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he coordinated himself with Natasha to pick you up in a way that would cause less pain to your body. It still hurt though, and you cried out when you were lifted.

Your mind was a puddle of thoughts. After everything Rumlow said, they were still helping you. Why? Did Bucky tell them to? Where was Bucky? 

You gathered all the energy you could, your face showing your discomfort as you spoke, “I’m not his sister.” 

Uncertainty flashed through Sam’s eyes at your statement, but Natasha spoke for him. “Don’t worry about that, we need to get you fixed up first and then we can talk about everything that has been said today.”

You let her words flow over your head. “Where’s Bucky?” You tried to move your head around as Sam’s was carrying you out of the club into the dark streets but it was no use. They needed to move fast, the police would be arriving soon after all the gunfire and they needed to be out of there.

“He’s been taken already, he was shot,” Sam was reluctant to tell you but he couldn’t keep it from you. He knew how much Bucky meant to you and he didn’t want to cause you anymore anxiety by just telling you not to worry about it.

A new round of tears made their way to your eyes. “He’s been hit?” You wheezed, “is he okay? Is it bad?” Natasha was trying to sooth you and calm you, as to not cause anymore damage and to keep the pressure on your shoulder. 

“Y/N, we haven’t seen him yet, once we get back to the house and we’re all cleaned up, I promise you’ll be able to see him.” That didn’t stop the sobs that were wracking your body as Sam placed you in the back of the car. It wasn’t their usual one, Bucky must have left in theirs and it suddenly felt unfamiliar without Bucky by your side.

The whole ride back to the house consisted of Natasha and Sam mumbling to each other about what had just happened. You felt too hazy to concentrate on anything they were saying, the blood that was still oozing from your wound making you feel dizzy, even sat down. 

The only thing you could grasp was the thought of Bucky being injured, and not knowing whether it was just a graze or if he was fighting for his life was tearing you apart inside. The thought of him not wanting to see you when you got back to the house was also nagging at your mind. You tried to push it down as much as you could but you couldn’t deny the look of betrayal on his face at Rumlow’s words.

All you could do was hope that he didn’t believe a word he said, or he’d at least give you a chance to explain yourself if he did believe him. It was the least he could do.

By the time you arrived at the mansion, your eyes were closing. No matter how many times Natasha tried to get you to open them again, it was no use. You just felt so tired and you couldn’t fight it anymore. The last thing you heard was Natasha calling out to someone, before it all went quite.

--

The smell of disinfectant invaded your nose. The sound of beeping next to you came next. 

Your head felt like there was an ocean inside, the waves sloshing against the sides of your head as you let out a small groan. You blinked your eyes open and was instantly blinded by the bright lights above you. You gave yourself a couple of seconds to adjust before attempting to open them again.

“Hey,” a soft voice next to you. You felt the pressure on your hand then and you squeezed in it response. You moved your head as slowly as you could, feeling like you might throw up if you moved it any faster.

Green eyes were peering at you, Natasha’s face filled with worry as she sat on the chair beside your bed. “Hey, you’re okay,” you didn’t know if she was trying to convince you or herself but you took her word anyway.

“Where am I?” You knew you weren’t in a hospital, you had never seen a place like it but the hospital equipment surrounding you confused your thoughts. The walls were light grey and tiled, with the sheets covering you matching them. You were in a single room, just you and Natasha and there was one door way leading out onto a corridor.

“We’re underneath Bucky’s place, we use it for medical emergency’s, it’s where Bruce likes to geek out,” she chuckled and you smiled at her joke. 

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked instinctively, and Natasha sighed, squeezing your hand. “He’s okay, he was shot three times. One of them grazed his cheek but the other two went through his left arm.” You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth.

If it wasn’t for you, this wouldn’t have happened. he would have been safe and unhurt, but you did that to him. You could have protected him like he was trying to protect you.

“When can I speak to him?” Your voice was quiet as you met Natasha’s eyes. “When you’re both better, give it some time Y/N, you both need it after what happened.”

You spent the rest of the day in that room, Bruce coming in occasionally to check on you and run some test before you were sent back up to your bedroom in the evening. Natasha helped you up the three flights of stairs, you were still a bit weak and you couldn’t lift your arm very high at the moment. It hurt just to have it by your side.

You were in bed, staring out of the window into the evening light when you heard the slamming of a door and raised voices being hushed down the hall, it sounded like it was coming from Bucky’s room.

“Guys, she’s literally down the hall, keep your voices down,” Steve hushed the two men in front of him. Bucky blew out some air, pacing around the bed sat in the middle of his room. Despite being asked by Bruce to stay with him for a little while longer, he couldn’t take staring at those blank walls any longer. 

He’d been shot before, he could take it. He gathered some painkillers and made his way back upstairs, wanting to filter through all the information he had received last night.

“So you’re just telling me now that she’s Rumlow’s sister? Do you know how much information she’s seen doing the job I’ve given her? Rumlow could be taking us down right now and we wouldn’t even know until the last second,” the anger was seeping through Bucky’s voice and he couldn’t hide it, no matter how hard he tried.

Sam and Steve had met him in his office earlier that day, sheets of paper in Steve’s hand and an anxious look shared between the two of them. “What’s going on? Is this about what you two were doing yesterday because if it is, I don’t care anymore,” Bucky had slumped himself down in his large chair.

“Yes it is, but you need to look at it, it’s important,” Steve simply placed the pile of sheets in front of Bucky on the desk. When Bucky didn’t immediately look at them, the boys took it as their cue to leave. 

Now, they were facing only a fraction of Bucky’s deadly nature that people feared him for. It was a well known fact to never get on the wrong side of Bucky, he may do good for his people but he was not afraid to show his anger to anyone who went against him, a Commando or not.

“Buck, we only found this out just before we went for the raid, there was no time to tell you, we didn’t now the whole thing was going to pan out like that,” Steve tried to reason. Bucky ran a hand over his face, the information coming from Rumlow was one thing, but to have it confirmed by his men was another.

“Did you read it all? It seems like she never had anything to do with him for her whole life, they never lived together, she stayed with her mother and he went with the father, it’s likely he took her that night to use her,” Sam was confident in his theory, even though he’d known you for such a short period of time, he knew you wouldn’t be capable of manipulating anyone in such a way.

“Okay, so say he just took her, she still had to agree to go along with it Sam, she went along with it for over a month, how does that make her any better?” Bucky was trying to keep his voice calm, he was talking through gritted teeth.

“Bucky, you saw how beat up she was after she was taken when her and Nat went shopping, and the cut on her head when you first rescued her from the club, you think she’d let him do that to her just for fun? Why would she let him beat her up like that? Come on, man, this is Rumlow we’re talking about, you’ve never believed anything he’s said so why are you starting now?”

Sam was right, of course he was. But Bucky’s heart was aching at even the thought of you keeping something from him, the thought of you being related to Rumlow. He felt like he’d found something good in his life and now it was being ripped from him as quickly as it was given. 

He had trusted you, opened up a part of his heart to allow you in and he let you nestle into his life. Maybe you weren’t the one he thought you were. Maybe that person was still out there. Surely the one that’s meant for you would be honest from the start?

A soft knock at the door broke the three men out of their heated conversation. They all paused, looking around at each other before Steve moved over to see who was on the other side. You stood in front of him in your joggers and a large hoodie which took over your hands that you were wringing through the jumper sleeves. 

“Hey, Y/N, are you alright? Shouldn’t you be resting,” you knew he had said your name to announce to the others its was you at the door but you let it pass.

“Yeah, I’m okay thanks,. Is Bucky there? I’d like to speak to him, if that’s alright?” Your voice was soft and small and it made Bucky’s heart race. He couldn’t deny the feelings that had grown for you over this time but his thoughts were completely muddled now. 

Steve turned his head back to Bucky and when he received a single nod, he opened the door wider to let you step through. You seemed timid and moved rather stiffly compared to just days before, you were holding onto your right arm with your hand, steadying the movement of it to reduce the pain but Bucky could see it in your eyes, it still hurt.

Steve and Sam left the room without any further words, Sam smiling at you as he passed.

You glanced around the room for a second, nothing had changed since the last time you had been in there. Bucky was stood near his window, his back turned towards you and you could tell he was breathing heavily.

You took a deep breath, “Bucky?” At this, he turned his body slightly so it was angled towards you but he didn’t completely face you. It hurt you a little to be getting this treatment from him. The mobster who was so soft with you was now treating you like you were some useless business partner at the gatherings he went to.

“I wanted to talk about yesterday, if that’s okay?” You tried again when he didn’t give you an answer. 

“Y/N, we have your birth certificates, you’re his sister,” his voice was emotionless as he spoke. “You share the same parents, he just moved away with your father when they split.”

This information made your head spin. You mother had never mentioned a brother to you throughout your whole life, not that you remembered anyway. You never saw your father either, so you guessed it could be true if Rumlow did move away with your father.

“I didn’t know about him, I promise I didn’t,” you felt the tears welling in your eyes but it was all about to come out now, you couldn’t stop it. “The night you found me in his club, he had taken me the day before on my way home from work, I had no idea who he was, he didn’t tell me anything except I had to get to you. I never heard anything from him again until he took me when we were shopping, he was just asking for information about you then and I told him where your next raid may be but I didn’t know specifics and you know that.”

You were sobbing through your words now but Bucky hadn’t moved from his place. “I was scared, Bucky, you can’t blame me, he terrifies me and I thought I was protecting you by not telling you but I think I was really protecting myself.” You let the words hang in the air, your sniffles the only sound in the room. 

Bucky was staring at the ground, he believed you. Of course he did, you were in front of him pouring your heart out to him. 

“I’m so sorry Bucky, I never meant to hurt you, I care about you too much to ever think about hurting you,” those words make Bucky snap.

“You don’t care about me,” his teeth were gritted but his voice was harsh. “You don’t even know me Y/N.” He’d heard those words too many times from all the girls he had attempted a relationship with, that they cared about them when in reality they only cared about his money.

His words were like a stab to your chest. You suddenly forgot about the dull pain in your shoulder after his words. “What?” It was all you could manage. “You think you’re protecting me by not telling me everything you know?” He had taken a couple of steps closer to you, his body imposing on your space. “You’ve ruined me, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t me,” your words were pointless, Bucky had already made his mind up. “Get out, I’ll have someone take you back home, you’re done here.” His voice was low and calm, and it scared you more than his harsh words from before.

It was final, there was nothing you could do now. You slowly turned, making your way to the door and opening it. You glanced back at Bucky before you left, “it’s Pierce, he’s the one who’s working with Rumlow.”

Bucky didn’t move, his back was the last thing you saw as you shut the door. 

--

Natasha drove you home after helping you pack all the things in your room. She was outraged when she heard what Bucky had said, threatening to go up to his room and give him a piece of her mind but you eventually convinced her to leave it.

You had already caused enough damage, she didn’t need to be making it worse.

“I think he’s just confused right now, give him some time and he might come round to what you’re saying and understand,” she tried to reason as she turned the corner onto your street. It felt familiar but there was a strange feeling settling into your stomach.

“I hurt him, Nat and I can’t do anything to take that back now,” you sighed. “I risked all your lives, I put you all in danger and I want you to know I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Hey, don’t you dare apologise to me, I can handle myself, we all love you and we don’t want to lose you but let’s just keep Bucky happy for now,” Natasha had stopped outside of your apartment building and you stared out at it through the window. You wondered how it would feel to spend the night there instead of inside Bucky’s mansion that you had called home for so long. I guess now was the time to find out.

“Come on, let’s get you sorted,” with that, Natasha helped you move all your boxed up new items into your old home. 

“It’s very cute in here, I’m definitely coming around all the time,” Nat was drinking her coffee sat on the sofa. “Please do, it’ll be weird not having you around all the time,” you giggled and a smile broke out onto Nat’s face.

“I promise I’m just one call away, whenever you need me, I’ll come straight to you,” her voice was soft but firm as she spoke to you, you knew she meant what she was saying and you knew you’d definitely be calling her round whenever you could.

“I best be getting off anyway,” Natasha sighed, placing her now empty cup on the coffee table. “Don’t want Bucky having another reason to be angry at me,” she chuckled but you knew she was telling the truth.

“Thank you for everything Nat, you truly are one of my best friends, even without Bucky in the picture,” she drew you into a warm hug, giving you an extra squeeze before letting go. “You have a place in my heart, Y/N and you’re not going anywhere.”

Once Nat had left, the silence came crashing down on you as you replayed the last two days in your head. You couldn’t have imagined the mess you had got yourself into over the last month or so and now it was like nothing happened.

You thought back onto your moments with Bucky. That one moment in particular where you nearly kissed but it never happened. Your heart was so open to him in that moment, wanting nothing more than to spend all your time with him, and now you were getting nothing. Not even a proper goodbye.

You slowly made your way to your bedroom. The sheets still made from the last time you had left the house and never returned home. You pulled them back, getting into bed and hissing slightly at the pain the shot through your shoulder. 

You settled yourself down, closed your eyes and let out a deep breath. You had never felt so alone.

Part 12

[anythingandeverything1d]

Panic

Your heart was pounding, almost as if it were going to beat out of your chest. You looked around, expecting someone to be there but instead it was an empty side walk. You took a breath, shook your head to clear your mind and then continued on your run. It had been happening a lot lately. You would get the sense that you were being followed and that you were in danger. It was so real. Sometimes your body physically stopped moving and you stood there waiting for whoever it was to attack. 

It all started a few months ago when you and Harry were out for a stroll. You had gotten coffee and were enjoying the morning when paparazzi crowded around, snapping pictures, yelling questions, and moving in closer and closer. One of them grabbed you, trying to get an answer about a specific rumor and you had ended up tripping and falling over. The incident had freaked you out. You knew it was a part of dating Harry, but it was definitely the part that you were not comfortable with. Thinking more about it made you more anxious, so you picked up the pace and raced home. You went stumbling through the doors, looking behind you and not noticing Harry in the hall, who you went tumbling into. He caught you with a laugh and shook his head. “Intense run today?”

You laughed and nodded, “Yeah, it was something...”

“Are you okay” Harry just realized how pale you were. How shallow your breathing was and and how you were still focused on the empty and open door.

You nodded and looked around, tears falling down your cheeks. “Yeah....yeah...I’m okay....”

“Shh.... babe what’s wrong?” Harry pulled you into his arms and tightened his grip. Your chin rested on his shoulder and you tangled your arms up around his neck. “What happened?”

“Nothing....I just felt like I was being followed the whole time....like I was going to be attacked...”

“Shh youre okay...” Harry soothed. “No one was there...no one is-” “Thats the problem.” You cried. “This time they weren't there but next time they will be. They are everywhere and looking for a story and what if I don't want to do that? I don't want to be the fool they talk about and I don't want them to judge you for what I say. I get so nervous Harry. My chest tightens, I can’t breathe, and then I get light headed and dizzy. I feel like I’m about to black out. On top of that, I’m always looking over my shoulder, waiting for them to rush me.”

Harry nodded and looked you in the eyes. “I know its been hard...the paparazzi aren't easy to deal with...but (y/n) youre going to be okay. Every situation we've been in with them has turned out just fine. If anything were to happen when youre alone or you just don't feel safe, you can always call or text me and I’ll drive over and get you wherever you are. There is nothing to be afraid of-”

“But I am afraid! I’m afraid they will get to close or that they will take a gross picture of me or or that they will ask me something and I’ll say the wrong thing and the fans will hate you for it. I’m afraid that they are going to know more than me and that I -I ” 

“If people hate me, they hate me. I have never cared about being famous. I just want to sing. Everything is okay love. I promise you that everything will turn out fine. And who cares if they take an ugly picture, you are beautiful as hell. They aren't supposed to even approach you after the incident last time. I really think you are going to be okay and that there isn't anything to worry about.”

“I know...” you sigh and wipe your tears, separating from Harry’s arms. 

“I’ll run with you next time okay? That way you aren't alone...maybe that will help you feel more safe...”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” you smiled and kissed him softly. He kissed you back, giving you a wink. 

“Now what do you say we make massive sundaes and just watch a movie? I feel like we need to take your mind off everything and just relax.” 

You smiled and nodded, allowing him to pull you into the kitchen. He grabbed all of the ice cream and toppings from the freezer and cabinets, scooping you a large bowl. You topped it with candy, fruit, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. Harry grabbed the whipped cream bottle and aimed at you. “Harry.” You laughed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“My sundae looks delicious, but....” he bit his lip and grinned. “You look better.”  He grabbed your waist and tugged you against his chest, his lips locking on yours. You gave in, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you kissed him back. He moved his arm and pushed you back momentarily, giving you enough time to catch your breath and him enough time to properly spray a good amount of whipped cream on your face. 

“Oh my go-” Harry’s lips cut you off, he was licking the whip cream off your face, ending with his tongue swirling in yours. 

“Still feeling anxious?” Harry mumbled with a grin.

“A little...” you laughed. “But not for the same reasons.” You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and he lifted you to the counter, his body in between your legs. 

“I can fix that...” He mumbled against your lips, his hands pulling under your shirt at your bra. 

“But the ice cream-”

“Sh- what ice cream?”

You laugh and lean into him, his lips exploring your neck, his hands on your chest. “The ice cream we just scooped into bowls and loaded with candy.”

“Oh that ice cream...” he breathed out, lifting your shirt as your hands tugged at his pants. “We can finish it later, for dessert.”

---

Just a quick little blurb on an anxiety request I got. Tried mixing it up since I have so many other Anxiety stories so I hope you enjoy!

xoxo

Ps: Sorry this was supposed to go out last night but my computer died and then I fell asleep editing lol

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Judgement Call (Din Djarin x OC)- Chapter XV

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CHAPTER XV: MISTAKE

Zakia was unsurprised when getting into the prison turned out to be the easiest part of their mission.

As she was aware from years in the field, it was not difficult to get yourself unwillingly thrown in prison. One wrong word in a cantina, a little pick-pocketing gone bad, skipping bail, stealing Daddy’s money and running… her list could drag on all the way to the extremes. Even so, Zakia had never considered the possibility she would go in on her own accord.

It would be a lie to say she had not considered closing the hatch behind Malk’s crew and flying the Razor Crest away from the prison. Close the door, shoot the droid, leave. How hard could it be? Contradictorily, her mind continued to revolve around the Child. If they failed the job, they received no money. And no money generally meant no sustenance and no fuel.

In the end, desperation for money was the reason Zakia found herself facing off with four heavily armed droids in the prison vessel’s hallway. The robots' appearance had the whole group scattering, while Din and Zakia took the opportunity to find a hallway that lead around so they could engage the droids from behind. Mayfield was shouting in the distance, no doubt claiming her and Mando weren’t worth their time. It wasn’t until his repetitive shout of “I knew it!” That the duo stepped out behind the droids.

“Left.” Zakia claimed, sneaking a glance at Mando.

They both attacked at the same time, a silent ambush upon the mechanical enemies. Armed with vibroknives that were more than capable of severing the droid’s joints, Zakia leapt up while Mando went for the ground. It was a tactical move they had almost perfected. She was short, and it made it easy for falling enemies to intercept her when he went for their legs. If Zakia instead leapt upwards to a second enemy’s shoulders, the attack was easily evaded.

Zakia scaled the droid’s back, swiping her knife downwards from above the elbow joint. The forearm clanked to the floor, but the other one wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her over its shoulders. It no longer had a weapon to brandish, and Zakia used the lack of defense to her advantage. Tipping her weight forward, she brought the machine to the ground and sliced the knife through the wires in its neck. The lights across its body flickered out, and she scrambled to her feet.

The remaining two droids were already on them, and the Mandalorian staggered back when one fired into his cuirass. Zakia pulled her blaster on the other, rolling out of the way of its shots and firing her own into its chest. She aimed, but a resounding ‘ PING’ echoed through the hall and her target fell. A knife protruded from the seam of its chestplate, and Zakia pouted as she yanked the weapon free.

“That was mine, Man- ah!” Zakia leapt for cover as a blaster bolt zinged by her ear.  

Another set of droids approached, marching forward in sync. She briefly wondered why Mayfield and the team hadn’t stepped in to help, but only sent a sideways glance towards where they hid.

“If you want something done right, do it yourself.” She muttered, pivoting out from her hiding spot and firing back on the droids. She aimed for their necks this time, the bolts landing true and causing both to fall to the ground in a heap of metal. The Mandalorian leapt over said pile as more droids marched in, using the flamethrowers in his gauntlets to melt them down. One managed to heave back up, only for Din to snatch its blaster away and fire the weapon back into the droid’s head.

Zakia straightened and holstered her guns once the hallway quieted. Mando’s helm was fixed on the team’s hiding spot, and he threw the droid’s blaster to the ground. It clattered against the smooth floor, the sound sending a clear message to the team who had ducked for cover at the first sign of trouble. Zakia ignored the trio as she skipped over piles of smoking metal, bringing herself to Mando’s side so they stood as a unit.

“Make sure you clean up your mess.” Mayfield’s parting words as the group strode past like nothing happened were more disconcerting than usual.

Xi’an leered into Zakia’s space with her strange giggle, and the blonde raised a single brow at the Twi’lek before she carried on. Burg jogged past, a purposeful shoulder ramming into Mando’s pauldron.

“Great.” Zakia shook her head, and Din set his hand back in its new favorite place on her back. He nudged her forward gently, following after the group. “I can’t wait until this is over.”

The Mandalorian’s viewfinder pointed towards her. “You and I both.”

“It seems your presence has been detected. Redirecting security alert away from your position.”

Zakia heard Zero’s tinny voice through the speaker in her ear as they turned a corner to what looked to be the control room.

“Open the door, Z!” Mayfield called through the link, making Zakia wince at the voice in her ear.

“But I am detecting an organic signature.”

“Yeah, alright, just open the door!”

Zakia tapped the controls on her wrist to switch to her and Mando’s link. “Organic?”

She spoke softly enough to avoid the other’s detection, and Mando’s voice floated into her ear.

“There’s a human on board.”

The door slid open before any protest could be made, revealing a stout man in a New Republic uniform. He had been seated at the security desk, but shot to his feet at the sight of intruders. The soldier brandished a blaster.

“Stop!”

Mando drew his weapon as well, sidestepping so Zakia was behind him and unprovoked to draw on an innocent man.

“Just stop right there.” The guard was shaking, and Zakia was fairly sure she was too, but didn’t comment on it.  “You put down your blasters right now.”

His anxiety took an unfortunate precedence, and the soldier didn’t fire when Mayfield let himself into the room.

“Nice shoes.” He commented, walking the perimeter slowly and ignoring a second command to put their weapons down. “Matches his belt.”

Zakia stayed in step with Mando, keeping her blaster holstered but her hand ready to pull.

“There were only supposed to be droids on this ship.” Din said, head tipped in Mayfield’s direction.

“Hang on, hang on. Let’s see here…” The triggerman was surveying the controls, scrolling through a list of inmates. “Cell 2-2-1.”

Zakia kept her eyes on the Republic soldier, trying to convey sympathy through her gaze. There was no reason he should have been caught up in the outrageous plan.

“Alright, now for our well-dressed friend.”

At Mayfield’s ominous words, the man pulled a tracking beacon from his belt and held it like a second weapon. The frontman tensed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. Zakia knew they wouldn’t have a chance if he activated it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, easy, Egghead. Put that down. Come on.”

“Easy.” Mando dropped his voice, speaking in a soothing tone to the man.

Going with the nature of the mission though, Mayfield ruined it. “Put it down, now!”

“Shut it, Mayfield!” Zakia snapped at the same time Mando spoke, “Easy. Nobody has to get hurt here. Just calm down.”

“What is that thing?” Burg demanded, voice booming against the walls of the control room.

“It’s a tracking beacon.” Din said calmly.

“He presses that thing, we’re all done. A New Republic attack team will hone in on that signal and blow us all to hell. Put it down!”

Xi’an took that moment to lean forward from the chair she had occupied. “Are you serious?”

Zakia’s eyes snapped to her. “What did you think it was for, his remote control toy?”

The Twi’lek hissed. “Then why didn’t you tell us that, blondie?”

“Stop! I didn’t think we’d get to this point!” Mayfield's inability to operate under pressure was becoming incredibly apparent.

“And here we are.” Zakia didn’t understand how Xi’an was dumb enough to underestimate the gravity of their situation.

“Are you questioning my managerial style, Xi’an?” Mayfield demanded, striding towards her.

“What is even happening?” Zakia’s eyes darted back and forth between the conflicting two thirds of Ran’s team and Mando.

“Hey. Listen to me. Okay? Look.” Din caught the guard’s attention and holstered his blaster. “Hey put it down.”

The second command was directed at Mayfield, who stared blankly. “Are you crazy?”

Zakia pointed at the ‘manager’. “Put it down.”

He seemed to see something in her eyes that made him listen, and all the blasters except the guards slowly lowered.

“Alright. What’s your name?” Din asked, keeping one hand out in front of him.

The man swallowed, nervous eyes finding purchase on Zakia’s partially-hidden face. “It’s Davan.”

Zakia gave the smallest of nods, encouraging him to relax without words.

“Davan. We’re not here for you, we’re here for a prisoner.” Din reassured, “If you let us go about our job, you can walk away with your life.”

“No he won’t.” Mayfield lifted his blaster, leveling it back at Davan’s head.

It was that which made Zakia draw her blaster. She pointed it at Mayfield, and the room froze. “You’re gonna bring hell raining down on here, moron.”

“You think I care about that?” Mayfield returned.

Zakia gaped at him. “Well, it means you’re gonna be dead, so I sure as shit hope so!”  

Mando held up a hand. “We’re not killing anybody. Understand?”

“Get that blaster out of my face, lady.” Mayfield looked to the Mandalorian. “Get a leash on her.”

“I can’t do that.”

Zakia wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the leash or her dropping the weapon, but she was unmoved on both subjects.

“Get the blaster outta my face!”

At Mayfield’s strangled yelling, Burg lifted his own blaster and pressed the muzzle to Zakia’s head. Mando moved at light speed, pushing her back to level his blaster at Mayfield and flamethrower at  Burg.

“Don’t.” He warned, helmet on a swivel between the two. Zakia was halfway behind him, out of Burg’s firing line but still able to keep Mayfield locked in her sights.

“You need-”

A flash of blue energy crackled across the room, and Zakia jumped into Mando’s back when Davan collapsed at her feet. Xi’an stood from her chair, eyes rolling.

“Would the three of you just shut up?” She sauntered across the room, pushing by Zakia and Mando to kneel by Davan’s corpse. She drew one tiny dagger from his heart, twirling it between her purple fingers.

“Crazy Twi.” Mayfield commented. He readjusted his shoulder straps, watching Xi’an bend down. “I had it under control.”

“Yeah. Looked like it.”

Zakia wasn’t paying attention to Xi’an though. It was the tiny plastic square on the ground which caught her attention It flashed with three red lights, and beeped at an increasing speed. Her eyes darted to Mando, who was looking in the same place.

“Was that thing blinking before?” Mayfield asked, “Was it?”

She only shook her head, taking a small step back. The com in Zakia’s ear crackled, though Din remained perfectly still.

“You’re ready if this goes bad?” He rasped, voice a whisper beneath his helmet.

Zakia bit her lip, turning back toward the hallway as if she were thinking. “It already has.” She breathed.

Mando must have spliced their coms back into the groups when Zero’s voice cut sharply into her ear. “I’ve detected a New Republic distress signal honing in on your location. You have approximately twenty minutes.”

Much to Zakia’s annoyance, Xi’an spoke again. “We only need five.”

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Move!” Mayfield urged them all out of the room.

Din grabbed Zakia’s arm. “Something’s up.”

“Kriff, Din, you don’t say? Something’s been up this whole time!” Zakia argued, shoving her blaster back into its holster when she noticed it still dangling between her fingers.

A sigh slipped out from under his helmet, crackling through the modulator. “Watch your back.”

They followed after the group, boots whispering against the floor. Din and Zakia caught up after a few corners, but jerked to a sudden stop when a cylindrical droid hovered through a cross section of hallways. Much to the hunters' surprise, Burg tackled the droid right out of the air. The massive Davaronian smashed it into the floor, roaring angrily and using it as a weapon when a similar droid floated around the next corner.

Continuing on, Mando kept an eye on the back of the group. Zakia ran with her blaster in hand, pointed down but ready for any incoming threats. It seemed like an eternity, but the rag-tag bunch eventually came upon cell number two-two-one. Mayfield withdrew a key- he must have snatched it from Davan’s body- and inserted it into the lock. Zakia watched the mechanism spin and click into place.

“Z, open it up.”

“You have fifteen minutes remaining.” Another entirely unhelpful response from the droid.

“Z, open it up!”

At the second command, the lock spun once more and all of the door lights flashed green. It lifted at once, and Zakia stared. She didn’t recognize the Twi’lek sitting on the bench, but his presence seemed to bother Din.

“Qin.” The Mandalorian said, taking a step towards the cell. Zakia watched curiously, hands still wrapped around her blaster. She assumed Qin was a part of Ran’s crew that Mando had worked with before Zakia came along.

Qin stood, jarring gait bringing him further into the light. His lekku were short but wide, as was his frame. He had deep scar-like lesions running down either side of his face, and Zakia was not at all fond of the look on his face. “Funny. The man who left me behind is now my savior.”

“Get to the ship.”

Zakia tensed at Din's voice, and everything around her dropped into slow motioned.

Burg launched a fist that landed on Mando's chestplate, thrusting him into the cell. It burned Zakia, but she took off as fast as she could back towards the Razor Crest. She could hear the group yelling to pursue her, but pushed hard. Her short legs had a natural disadvantage, but she kept moving until the sounds of the group faded.

“Damn it!” She was lost.

“Zak? Zak, are you okay?”

Zakia huffed as she kept moving, looking for any sign of their carnage or a clue as to the direction they’d come from. “I’m fine, but I think I’m lost.”

“Keep trying to find the ship. I’m- hold on.”

She moved at a jog, her thoughts nagging her. Zero could track her bio-signature, and give her location to the group. She had to find a way to conceal herself.

“Zakia, where are you?” Din’s voice was strained, and it sounded like he was breathing heavy.

“I don’t know, I can’t tell. I made a right and then three lefts. And another right. I was running.” Zakia replied. “Are you okay?”

“I caught one of the guard droids- they have keys. I’m trying to find you.”

A breath of relief left her heaving chest, but the feeling was quickly squashed by footsteps. She flattened herself into the wall, hiding behind the support rings that built the foundation. She heard the group pass by in the crossing hallway, and prayed they hadn’t noticed.

“Which way did she go?”

“How am I supposed to know? This whole place looks the same.”

Zakia closed her eyes as their voices passed, and her heart thudded into her ribcage. She stepped out, only to run smack into a figure rounding the corner. The collision knocked her off her feet, and Zakia pulled the vibroknife from her boot. She pointed it up, expecting to cut through the joints of another droid. Instead, the blade came into contact with an unbreakable metal, sending tiny pinpricks down her wrist and finger bones.

“Zakia?”

The strangled sound that escaped her was not at all in character, and she allowed the Mandalorian to haul her back onto her feet. She would have loved a moment to breathe, despite the fact is was not remotely close to being considered an option.

“How’d you find me?” Zakia could barely hear herself over the blood roaring in her ears, and she followed as Mando continued to make his way down the hall.

“Followed your directions. You made one wrong turn. Now-” He motioned for her to follow as he turned left. “-we’re back to the control room.”

Zakia was grateful Mando had a sense of the prison. Some of it could undoubtedly be contributed to the tech within his helmet, but they were practically one and the same at that point. He herded her into the room, surveying the monitors.

Zakia trailed her fingers over the keys, stepping over the body on the floor as if it wasn’t there. There was a set of buttons labeled ‘Lockdown’ which immediately appealed to her.

“Where are they?”

Mando took a gander at the monitor they were on. “Section K3-4.”

Zakia typed in the section, and pressed the ‘engage’ button on the console. The entire ship was plunged into a temporary darkness, and Zakia’s hand shot out to grip Din’s bicep. “Did I mess it up?”

Her answer came in the form of the emergency lights, illuminating the halls in an ominous, sickly red tone. They watched the group move on the screens, and Mando hovered a hand over the controls, occasionally closing a firewall to drive the group as he wished. Zakia took note of his actions, smile tugging at her lips. “I see.”

With a very specific jab, he managed to slide a door shut in the middle of the team. Mayfield and Qin were on one side, while Xi’an and Burg were stuck on the other. Zakia tapped her nails against the counter, keeping the doorway in her peripheral

“Where is it?” Mando hummed, walking across the room. Zakia furrowed her brow.

“What?’

“The jammer.”

Zakia traced a finger over the console, pausing at a switch with a static symbol above it. She flipped it up, and tapped at the com unit in her ear. “Hear that?”

Mando shook his head.

“Then we’re set.”

Din watched the screens for another second, trying to make a decision on who would find the controls first. Once he saw the Devaronian coming in their direction, he kicked into gear. “We need to hide.”

Zakia’s eyes darted around the room, but eventually settled on the ceiling. “Din. Look.”

She pointed up, and he noticed a sideways grate in the metal ceiling. “Let’s go.”

After debating about who should climb up first, they decided it would be Din. Wearing armor usually brought about that situation, and Zakia wasn’t keen on going up first anyway. He used the tip of his knife to maneuver the grate enough to where he could fit. After it was moved, Din crouched down and launched his body upwards. His hands latched onto the edge, and he scrambled to get his elbows on. Once that was done, it was simple to haul the rest of his body up. He reached his arms down to Zakia, and she grasped onto him with all her strength. It didn’t take much to pull her slight frame into the ceiling, and he replaced the grate when she was on stable metal.  

The habitable part of the attic-area more than large enough for both of them, but Zakia’s back stayed firmly against Din’s body. Despite their predicament, the sexual tension plaguing their relationship was painfully clear. Being on the run was hard enough, and having a toddler on board even moreso. Zakia didn’t argue when his arm wrapped around her middle, keeping her tight against his body. She tilted her head towards him, cheek brushing his helmet.

“Is it bad that you have been turning me on all day?” She said.

“Funny.” Mando husked in her ear, “I’d been thinking the same about you.”

Zakia’s fingers dug into his wrists as he spoke, chewing on her lip.

“It’s a shame we’re locked in a prison and not alone.”

The way he said ‘alone’ sent shivers running down her spine, even though Zakia was drenched in sweat. Din’s warm body pressed against her own wasn’t helping, and the words he spoke made her blood run hot. His fingers drummed against her side, sneaking beneath the hem of her shirt. Footsteps pounded towards them below, and Zakia batted his hand away.

“Stop trying to get in my pants when there’s a Devaronian coming to kill us.” She murmured.

“We’ve done worse.”

Zakia didn’t have the opportunity to respond, as a dreadfully familiar red form  appeared through the grates below them. She felt the need to hold her breath for silence, watching the beast search for them.

“Where are you, little mouse?”

Din pulled his arm from around Zakia, pressing his closed fist into the floor and aiming carefully. Zakia pushed away as he fired his grappling hook down and tightened it around the Devaronian’s neck. Din staggered back to his feet, struggling against Burg’s incredible strength. Much to Zakia’s chagrin, the grate gave in.

With a mighty heave, the horned man had them both falling to the floor. Zakia gasped as pain shot through her leg where Mando fell on it. They were a tangle of limbs, struggling to their feet as Burg attacked. Din grabbed the Devarorian’s wrist, and a series of tiny rockets jetted from his vambrace. Zakia yelped, ducking down and rolling away when one came too close. Burg focused on Din, tossing the Mandalorian into the console and dragging his helmet across the controls. Zakia skittered backwards, drawing her blaster and firing off two failed shots as both men tussled with each other. Burg ended up in the sliding doorway, and Mando shot the control panel. The door dropped, and Zakia sighed in relief.

Though, it seemed she was not allowed to have any sort of happiness that day. Burg was still moving, pushing the door upwards. She grit her teeth and raised her blaster, firing before Din or Burg could react. The Devaronian fell, and the door chased him down. A sick squelching noise followed, and Zakia wrinkled her nose.

“Here I thought he was gross when he was alive.”

They departed from the control center, next target being Xi’an. Din synced the whole floor plan to his helmet, and led them to her last position while the blonde limped along beside him. Her leg was throbbing from their fall, the only thing aiding her being the adrenaline rushing through her veins. Zakia clenched and unclenched her fists when they stepped into the hall behind their Twi target. She didn’t doubt that Xi’an sensed their presence, and the Twi spun around with knives in hand.

Zakia waved sweetly, answered by Xi’an’s snarl.  Daggers were thrown in their direction, and Mando took the brunt of it with his armor. Zakia hid between the wall supports again, blaster in front of her  and primed to fire. She heard Mando grunt in pain, and stepped out with both blasters pointed at Xi’an. She had managed to spear him with one of the stilettos, its glowing blue tip sticking out from just under his pauldron. It was barely a flesh wound considers how small the knives were, and Mando had managed to wrangle the Twi’lek into a headlock as a testament to his strength. His vibroknife was at Xi’an’s throat, and Zakia smirked.

“Drop the knives or I’ll drop you.”

It was simple work, rounding up the rest of the crew.

Zakia took pleasure in locking up Mayfield and Xi’an; furthermore when Mando forced Qin up the ladder and into the Crest. They had found Zero peering into the baby’s bunk with a blaster drawn, and Zakia made quick work out of destroying and disposing of the droid. Qin watched everything with interest from the beginning to the end of their journey, up to the point where Ran paid them due to the ‘no questions’ policy.

After they’d left Ran’s station, Zakia held the Child against her chest, nose brushing his fuzzy head. “I missed you.”

The Child giggled, swatting playfully at her hair and tugging on the strangs. Zakia stood to move into the kitchen, stumbling to the side when the ship lurched. It was a hyperspace jump, and she furrowed her brows. Zakia shuffled over to the ladder, favoring her aching leg and looking up.

“Why so soon with the hyperspace?”

Din’s head appeared in her sightline, and it soon turned into his whole body as he shimmied down the ladder. He held his right arm tenderly after Xi’an’s blade had pierced it, but it was nothing more than sore.

“Ran was sending a fighter after us. But they have their own surprise coming.”

Zakia patted the Child’s back as he voiced his protest about leaving the kitchen. “What’s that?”

“They might be getting an early inspection from the Republic.”

Her jaw dropped. “You took the beacon.”

Mando nodded. “Yes.”

Laughter filled the cabin after a stunned silence, the sound echoing from both the Mandalorian and Zakia. The baby laughed at their sudden outburst, big eyes bouncing back and forth between the pair. It was a rare event to hear Din truly laugh, and Zakia reveled in the sound.

“That job was terrible.”

“I’d have to agree.” Din took the Child from her, bouncing him gently against his pauldron.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but it’s about bedtime for everyone aboard. So he’s getting a snack and then going down.” Zakia opened and closed cupboards, searching for a special treat for the Child. She eventually came across a ration bar with an absurd amount of sweetener in it, and broke the dessert into pieces.

“Here you go, buddy.” Zakia held up a fragment, and the kid snatched it straight from her fingers with his teeth. “Hey! Easy, you piranha.”

Din nodded towards the cockpit. “I’m gonna clean up.”

Zakia understood the silent request, standing up shakily and heading for the ladder. She scaled it with relative ease, and ducked back down to take the kid from Mando.

“Put bacta on your shoulder.” Zakia ordered, lifting the Child onto the cockpit floor.

“Yes, mother. Thank you.”

The doors slid shut, and Zakia sighed. She sat cross-legged with the kid, setting the snack out on the floor and allowing him to choose which piece he wanted first. It took a few minutes for her body to relax from the day and realize it was safe. The Child was babbling happily, and returned to his normal routine of tossing the acceleration lever’s topper across the room. Zakia dozed off at the familiar cacophony, eyes fluttering shut as she rested against the wall.

Almost a full hour passed before Din climbed up into the cockpit. After bandaging his shoulder and rinsing the blood from his body, he took the time to shave and breather without a helmet covering his face. He emerged in a soft black and gray tunic, with black pants and his helmet fixed into place. His beskar had been cleaned and set out, littering the cabin floor.

There was a soft scraping noise coming from above, indicative of the Child’s playing, but no voices. He hauled himself up the ladder, opening the cockpit door and letting himself in. The kid yelped excitedly at his presence, and Din smirked beneath the helm.

Zakia’s legs were outstretched in front of him, and his eyes followed the limbs up to her body. She had leaned back into the wall, eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell slowly, and Din smiled. He scooped up the kid and stepped back down the ladder. The Child fussed about being deposited in his bunk, only relaxing when Din left the door open to avoid closing him off.

Returning to the cockpit, he set out to double check their course and set the autopilot to his desired setting. Din cracked his neck, watching hyperspace swirl by for a moment before turning back to his partner. She was still fast asleep, mouth slightly agape and eyelashes tickling her cheeks. He smiled, switching all of the lights off and reaching to his jawline to pull away the helmet. The fresh air was a relief against his face, and he held the beskar gingerly with a few fingers as he lifted Zakia from under the shoulders. She unconsciously curled into him, arms wrapping around his neck and face burying itself in the crook of his shoulder. Zakia’s legs wrapped around his waist, and Din used one hand to steady her against him as he dropped to the cabin below. The whole ship was dark, but he knew his way around well enough to make it to their quarters without incident.

Din set his helmet beside the bed, and softly laid Zakia in the pile of blankets. He brushed a hand over her cheek, and felt her eyelashes flutter against his finger.

“Hmm… Din?”

“Present.”  

Zakia’s hand flopped about lazily in a clear signal for him to join her. He did just that, pulling the tunic from his chest and dropping it on the floor. Her fingers wound around his arms, and Din reveled in the warmth of her body under the blankets. As was their normal routine, Din shuffled about to pull her onto his chest. Zakia resisted, staying firmly planted on her back.

“No…” She wound her had into his hair, tugging down. “You always take care of me.”

Her sleepy words helped relax his strung-out nerves, and he lowered himself without resistance. Her fingers entwined with his hair, scraping against his scalp. Din allowed his body to rest just to her side, head propped on her chest. His nose brushed her chin, and Zakia ducked her head to kiss it gently.

“How’s your shoulder?”

Din wiggled the joint about. “Not bad. The bacta took care of it.”

“Good.” Zakia’s fingers traveled down his neck, massaging his nape and tugging at the hair there. “You know… You were pretty quiet today. Touchy.”

“You said earlier that it turned you on.” He shot back, readjusting so his face was hovering over hers in the darkness. One elbow propped him up on his side, and the other arm reached across her body. “Change your mind?”

“Stars, no.” Zakia set a hand on his bare shoulder, tracing it all the way up to his lips. “I just thought you’d want to know that you’re it.”

“It?”

“For me. You’re it. No one else could drag me away if they tried.”

Din’s heart skipped, and he didn’t have to speak to reply. He leaned down to join their lips, relishing in the warmth that spread through his veins. The only thing that could make it better was if he could turn the lights on. To let her see the sincerity in his eyes and the determination to stay together through whatever remained.

But until his Creed was broken, they would remain forever in the dark.

[lassofletters]

Falling Angel

Pro Hero! Reader x Shouta Aizawa

Word count: 1,347

Warnings: angst, jumping off a building, 

A/N: i got this idea from the TikTok trend I’m not gonna lie. Play Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon

It's night, you thought you'd be over this by now, thought the mission was over. Gods above you were wrong. Glass shattered in your living room you realized you should've known better. Nonetheless you had to be quick, grabbing your gear and haphazardly throwing it on. You pressed your alert button for pros to make their way to you and got going. Running as fast as you could, out your apartment to the stairs, you were about to go down until you saw him, silver hair, hands, and all his villainy.

You let out your favorite swear and burst up the stairs instead. Focusing on keeping your pace and breath steady you had to get to the roof. What you would do after you had no clue. Praying to whomever could hear you was all you could do as you reached your destination. The rooftop door right in front of you grabbing the doorknob and twisting but it didn't budge. In desperation you took a couple steps back and pushed forward with your leg up at the door. With each kick you could see it budging and finally with one last kick it flew open. Fresh air whipping your hair around.

"Where are you going? No one is coming for you. I already took care of your little team," Hearing the shrill voice rising from below brought anxiety rising into your chest and pushed you back into action. Your lungs burned, screaming for you to stop but you made it to the end of the roof. Turning around trying to steady your breath, vision focused on the villain chasing after you and others following closely behind. You swore you could see the corners of his lips appear from behind his hand.

"There's nowhere left for you to go Y/N," a cruel chuckle made his smile more visible. Heart pounding in your chest you lifted yourself up on the edge. It was getting hard to breathe, hard to think. There was only one thing to be done to get away from the League of Villains. If it resulted in your death, so be it, as long as they never got their dirty hands on you again. You might be thinking your last thoughts, you started thinking of the last time you talked to HIM. 

Such a stupid fight to have, you should've just accepted the academy's offer and stayed. Even pursuing your childhood dream you weren't happy, not without him. Now here you were, stuck in this mess that you and only you got yourself into. You thought of his face as you told him the offer to work alongside other pros in America. How it had dropped so at your excited declaration that you took the offer. Of course it was a big deal, you'd go and get beat up far away from him so he couldn't help you. 

----

"You're leaving me?" His voice was almost too quiet to hear. Your heart shattered at those words.

"No we can sti-"

"You're going to a whole other country Y/N!" His voice was loud and cracked as he cried out your name. What could be done now? Your hand rose to cover your chin as it quivered. This doesn't have to end does it?

"You know this has been my dream since forever, Shouta," he looked away from you when your voice wavered.

"Of course. How could I forget?" Even through your tears you saw his hand rise first to his face then through his hair. "You can achieve your dream. But not with me."

"What about when I come back? I might not be gone for long," you tried to keep your voice steady. When he turned to look at you then, you brought a sleeve up to dry your face and hide your expression. This was already hard, why couldn't he just understand? Your voice wavered again as you let out, "I love you"

"Angel… I'll always love you. Please never forget that." You heard the pain and sincerity in his voice. As he made his way to you a sob escaped your lips and he reached out to hold your face.

----

You wouldn't ever forget that, couldn't forget that. Cause no matter what, you loved him as well but your stubbornness knew no ends did it. You stuck to your childhood dream and got nowhere. 

"Baby boy I'm so sorry." You whimpered out. Shigaraki seemed to catch on as he brought his hand up to scratch his neck. You didn't care, all your thoughts went to your scarf clad ex. Wishing you could take it all back and be wrapped in his sleeping arms again. Tears pooled up in your eyes as you leaned back, letting gravity take control. Before your feet could slip off you pushed off of the building. In any other circumstances you'd push out your wings but your back was already in so much pain, so torn up that even as you tried you screamed out. 

It was getting hard to breathe correctly, air violently whipped hair and loose pits of clothing against your falling form. Last thing seen before you closed your eyes was the villains looking at you from over the edge. Accepting your death, you braced for the impact of the ground when you hear a familiar voice yell out your name but you can’t move your head very easily. You tried to push your wings out again but the pain was still too unbearable. Air suffocated you and snuffed out any possibility of screaming. You could hear another name being called out but couldn't quite make out the syllables being used. Even so your heart skipped a beat, from being suffocated or from hope you couldn't tell.

Something hits into the side of you and changes your course of direction. Finally oxygen evenly enters your lung in a burning gasp. Arms braced you under your body and you look to the owner, seeing the very man you never thought you would see in this life again.

"Yeah yeah I got her. You guys can quit being annoying and loud," you heard hollering and whoo-ing quietly come from the earpiece and grumbling from Eraser as he roughly ripped the earpiece out. You giggle quietly emitting a tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. Aizawa gripped onto you tightly as he landed on the ground. He placed you down with such care that you could have cried right then, although tears already were trailing down your face. Reaching your hands out to him, you called his name in your shaky voice over and over again. He pulls you into his chest so you sobbed countless apologies and still call out his name on repeat. Meanwhile he comforted you by petting your head and using his other hand to rub you very sore back and softly shush you. 

“It’s okay Angel. No matter what I’ll always be there to catch you if you fall,” his nickname for you soothes worries but you still shake with post-cry hiccups. You look behind Aizawa to see that Shigaraki and the other villains are gone from the roof with Present Mic on alert for them. You start to clench your hands roughly on to his arms repeating your worries about Shigaraki and his comment. Aizawa pulls you into his chest and rejects the comment and reassures you with his and the team's safety. "They're all okay and waiting to see if you've fallen safely."

“You gave us quite the scare there. I couldn’t keep up with Eraserhead,” a smile, although close-lipped, stretched across your face. On the other hand, Aizawa turned his head with a disdainful look on his face, aimed at the blond who smiled wide. 

“Alright then, let’s take you to Recovery Girl. I need you in the skies again,” Aizawa slid his arms under your legs and behind your back before lifting you up. To help ease any strain you put your arms around his neck, maybe also to feel more of him and watch his back. 

[katcadecascade]

A Late Atlas Ball prompt fic

Title: They Dance Across the Darling Rooftop Wreck

Summary: An Atlas ball isn't something Qrow is prepared for. He wants to go to spend time with his kids and Clover, really he does.It's just that none of his wardrobe is fancy-schmancy due to the fact all his shirts have an opening cut in the back.Cause yah know, wings and all that jazz.

Ao3

Chapter One: everything you do

When James announced that they’ll have a ball to celebrate the Amity satellite’s completion, Qrow honestly thought he was joking. But no, good old Jimmy doesn’t joke about coordinated events at Atlas’ elite standards.

The kids’ high enthusiasm and giddiness is expected, immediately making plans to get new outfits but Qrow can’t quite share their feelings.

He’s a bit of a mess of anxiety as he tries to move away from his kids’ happiness filling up their lounge and media room. The furthest couch seemed like the best place for Qrow to just huddle into his wings and quietly sip his tea, wallow in a festering scramble of thoughts believing that this dance will be terrible idea for him.

Before more misery could snatch his will, the couch’s weight dipped as Clover sits next to him.

“Hey,” he begins gently, “I don’t think your tea’s doing its job right. May I?”

Already he reads Qrow too well, something that Qrow actually appreciates. Qrow sets his mug on the side table and scoots closer to his boyfriend, arranging his large wings carefully. Much to his embarrassment, Clover ends up wrapping his muscly arms around Qrow’s small waist to bring him into his lap.

After a bit of shifting to get comfortable, Qrow leans his head against Clover’s face.

“What’s wrong, baby bird?”

“I don’t really do dances or balls,” he admits.

Sure there were a few Beacon dances but back then his wings were smaller, easier to manage under his cape but unfortunately these feathery appendages decided to get bigger. It was hard enough to constantly alter his shirts to have a gap for his wing bones back then.

His huntsman outfits were always specially tailored to protect his back while also leaving an opening for his wings. Yet that detail is also prioritized for the sake of him being in the field. Off missions, it was always up to Qrow to patch up casual shirts or go bare.

Since this is Solitas, the second option isn’t recommended. Well only for Clover in their bedroom but aside from that Qrow’s been wearing shirts where the buttons line up his back. It’s simple and practical but not at all the standard for a ballroom.

So it’s understandable that Qrow does not own any sort of fancy ass outfit that takes account of his faunus traits.

Black feathers ruffle at the thought, basically projecting the root of his issues to Clover.

“Dances can be lame,” Clover assured. His warm hands soothing Qrow’s lower back. “Don’t tell James but the last party he hosted wasn’t too smooth.”

“Then it’s a good thing that Weiss and Winter are in charge,” he mumbled, letting himself relax into Clover. His wings fold inwards, reminding Qrow of what’s been clouding his mind. “I don’t really have anything to wear compared to whatever they got.”

One of Clover’s hands travels up to trace at Qrow’s jaw, “You don’t have to force yourself to go.”

“I know but,” his eyes flicker over to the kids and their commotion, “I want to be there with them. It would be nice right?”

His hesitation rang out with the tiny budding hope inside of him. For years he missed out on Ruby’s and Yang’s childhood for missions or hangovers. Now with a few months of sobriety under his belt, Qrow has a better conscious to make efforts in spending time with his family.

He prefers video game nights or cooking lessons over ballroom dances but still, it sounds like a good time.

“It will be,” Clover promises, “and maybe I can even sweep you off your feet.”

Qrow flicks Clover’ ear and tried not to scoff or laugh, “In your dreams, lucky charm.”

That only makes Clover hold onto Qrow tighter, brushing his fingers through his dark hair, “Too late, you’ve already stepped out of my dreams and into my life. No way am I letting you go.”

The way Clover trails kisses down Qrow’s neck sends his feather fluffing uncontrollably.

“Sap,” he huffed before digging his hands underneath Clover’s shirt, wandering his nails across the taunt skin.

Right as Qrow kissed the crown of soft brown hair, one of his kids shout, “Really? Right in front of my salad?”

“Nora, this is my salad.”

Nora rephrases, “Really? Right in front of Blake’s salad?”

“Alright we get it,” Clover got a secure grip on Qrow’s back and his thigh before he stood up.

Qrow had to loop his arms around Clover’s neck and warp his legs around the torso too. “Geeze, give me a warning, Cloves.”

His wings flapped once to regain balance but Clover had practice on picking up Qrow by now.

Clover winked, “I told you, Qrow, I wanted to sweep you off your feet.” As he carefully walks them out, Clover whispers to his ear, “I also look forward to dancing with you too.”

Dancing, right, that’s something that happens in a ballroom.

Oh gods, what has Qrow signed up for?

That night he decides to procrastinate on thinking on solutions or dwelling on failure. Clover is a helpful distraction, the best by how tenderly he holds Qrow, how intense his lips and devoted words are. It’s all something Qrow never thought he’d ever want, passion without consequences, commitment without pity.

It’s just Qrow and Clover and he will do whatever he can to keep each other.

And that includes going to some dance.  

He still doesn’t have a plan on what to wear so Qrow doesn’t know what to think when Marrow shows up at his door later in the week and announces, “Come on Qrow, we’re going shopping.”

There was no time to argue because Marrow was giving him puppy dog eyes.

It wasn’t as effective as Ruby’s but the results were the same. Qrow was helpless against bright eyed kiddos.

Marrow takes them down the humble business streets of midtown Mantle. The entire place has been newly constructed after the Grimm invasions that preluded the elections.

Long story short and one corrupted elitist CEO arrested later, Robyn got her council seat and finally got a real talk with James to truly fix the issues between Mantle and Atlas. Sure there’s still a shit ton of problems that can’t be solved in a few days but apparently this ball is to celebrate the achievements so far.

Qrow still can’t imagine Robyn agreeing to this. Flaunting money doesn’t seem like her style. Then again, it’s a party where the doors of Atlas academy are open to everyone in Atlas and Mantle. Maybe this is more than a dance, a peace offering or proof that things are changing here for the better.

Perhaps Qrow’s issues are minor to it all, that his silly worries are nothing to the whole political agenda or whatever.

“Are you okay?” He snaps his faraway attention off of the sidewalk to Marrow. The younger man gives him a nostalgic smile, “Your wings are drooping.”

Just like with Marrow, Qrow’s faunus traits would often emote what he’s really feeling. He quickly flexes his shoulder blades, fixing the wings back up.

“I’m just…” Qrow doesn’t want to admit something so blatantly obvious but he has to ask, “This ball is going to be a big deal, isn’t it?”

Marrow blinks at Qrow like he’s dumb, “Well duh, everyone wants it to be real.”

Now that wording makes Qrow even more confuse, “Be real?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “We all need something big and finite to finally get that this is really happening.”

“Okay, so this dance is big and finite.”

Marrow rolls his eyes, “Atlas loves a good party.”

“You’re right about that.”

The dog faunus huffed, “It was the best way to supplicate the masses, yah know?” Something serious and thoughtful eludes from Marrow, his past sarcasm or immaturity gone as he says, “Smile big for the cameras, really show off that things are alright now and that we won’t fall apart because we are finally in a better place than ever before.”

Qrow’s lack of response makes the silence deflate whatever energy Marrow had just now. He buries his face in his scarf out of embarrassment for venting.

“Wow kid,” Qrow manages to say, “You’re right.”

A smile peeks out of the brown scarf, “I know.”

“Were you always so…”

“Sage like? Wise? Academic?” All suggestions and baits for his ego by the looks of his wagging tail.

“I was going to say worried,” Qrow shrugged, “but yeah, all those things too.”

Marrow scratched his neck, “I try not to worry too much but it comes with this life doesn’t it?”

He’s not talking about his career, Qrow instantly knows.

Life as a faunus in a high end society is nothing to brag or shrug about. Qrow only got his popularity through his huntsman skill and even his teaching job if that’s not hard to believe. But that was in Beacon where Qrow had his sister and friends and even Ozpin.

Here in both Atlas and Mantle, it must have been a wild story for Marrow to become an Ace Operative. Constantly observed in and out of the uniform and with a faunus trait he can’t hide, Marrow must have dealt with a lot of scrutiny in his years.

Unintentionally or not, Qrow walked Marrow’s pace and brushed his wing against Marrow’s back. Where words fail him, he hopes that this gesture would be a comfort.

Marrow sends him a wryly grin, far too similar to Clover’s. “Huh, you do have your cute, touching moments.”

A wing flap aimed at Marrow’s head.

“Hey!”

“Oops.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Marrow waves off, “We’re here.”

They stopped at a store front decorated with reds, whites, and greens. On the glass windows reads the shop’s name, Northern Hyrule Designs and Seamstress.

Upon entering with the door’s little bell, Qrow tries not to groan at the sight of a fancy dress and suit shop. One side has racks of dresses, the other suits, the back is an entrance way leading to the dressing rooms where Qrow sees a three paneled mirror in the back. But smacked dap in the middle of the shop is a raised circle platform he hopes he doesn’t end up modeling on.

So far there’s only one employee in attendant or behind a door labeled for the staff.

“Hello, welcome!” A woman behind the front register greets them. She waves a clawed hand, sharp black talons matching the feathers blanketing her forearm. Near her elbow, the feathers have an orange hue.

“Hi Pito,” Marrow greeted and then whipped his head around the room searchingly, “Is Maddie here?”

As if summoned, a blur of pink and black jumps out of a circular clothing rack to latch onto Marrow’s leg, tugging at his winter coat.

“Mar!” A little girl chirped, her shiny grey beak nuzzles against the young man’s knee.

“Hey, Maddie,” he pats her brown hair, careful for the pink bow framing her face. It’s pretty cute how it matches her dress. “You dressed up for a party?”

“No, felt like being pretty in pink,” she trills and easily slides her hands into Marrow’s big ones. The kid has no personal space as she stands on his boots to physically walk her over to Pito.

The woman has a loving and aspirating look that only a parent has, something too relatable to Qrow, as she claps her talons, “Madeleine, you can’t tackle all of our clients.”

Maddie’s shoulders slumped, “Okay Mama.” She then peers up to Qrow and shouts, “Uncle!”

An undignified squawk betrays his composure while Marrow laughs sharply.

“Hah,” Pito smiles reassuringly, “my brother also has wings, greyer but that doesn’t stop Madeleine now does it?”

“Uncle,” she insists again, moving over with grabby hands but her mother guides her off that path, likely used to this habit.

“Maddie, sometimes you can’t surprise someone with a hug,” Pito lectured. She turns to Qrow with an offered claw, “Hi, I’m Pitohui and this is my daughter, Madeleine.”

“I’m Qrow,” he shakes her hand, “so, um, I’m guessing Marrow brought me here for your expertise?”

Qrow glanced over to some of the models at the window, noticing all had a defining faunus trait and wore a classy outfit.

The seamstress begins to explain, “I design and make alternations for outfits according to any faunus’ needs. Personally half of my business profits from my brother’s vanity but I make it a goal to make every faunus in Mantle feel as glamorous as any other Atlesian.”

“That’s a nice goal.”

Madeleine exclaims, “My goal is to sing like my uncle!” She looks to Qrow expectedly, batting her eyelashes.

Geeze, too many kids are good at melting his heart.

Qrow quirks a smile, “I’m sure you’ll be the best singer in Atlas.”

“I’m telling Weiss you said that,” Marrow teased.

“She won’t believe you.”

“So,” Pito cuts in, as a parental authority tends to do before two idiots start bicker, “what are you both looking for?”

“We’re here to get some new suits,” Marrow answered, already sliding hangers on their racks to examine the suits.

“Speak for yourself,” Qrow said, “I think a dress would be better for me.”

The younger man stared at him for a few seconds before confirming, “You’re not joking.”

“Nope.”

“In that case,” Pito has a kind smile as she leads Qrow to a rack of dresses, “let’s get started.”

They spend a good while looking around. Qrow would occasionally look at the suits but truly a dress is more to his preferences. Marrow sticks to the suits but sometimes Qrow would catch him peeking over to the prettiness of the skirts.

Eventually it occurs to Qrow that some of these clothes are pricy. Right, this is a business aimed towards fancy events.

“How are we paying for this?” He asks and ties to do math in his head regarding his paychecks.

“Oh right, the General saw me this morning,” Marrow reaches into his coat and hands Qrow an envelope. “This is for you.”

Flipping it open, what falls into his hand is a credit card under James’ name.

Huh, he could get used to getting spoiled with money but right now he’s not. Qrow was never a big spender, only got the bare necessities since he had to travel light. The tiny card feels too golden and clean to be in his hands.

“Don’t worry,” Pito winks at him, “I’ll give you a family discount.”

“Uncle!” Agreed Madeleine.

The little bird girl has an armful of suits and takes Marrow’s hand to pull him to the dressing rooms. That just leaves him and Pito to talk shop.

It’s kind of obvious that whatever Qrow’s going to wear it’s gonna be backless.

Cause yah know, wings and that jazz.

Plus, Qrow looks good in a backless dress.

He tries on a few different styles, from gown-like to modern. Because of he’s seeking professional help Pito had him on the raised platform and rolled over a full body mirror.

With each dress, Qrow gets more and more comfortable to seeing his reflection.

If clothes make the person then Qrow is practically ethereal and awing even to his own eyes. The skirts he wore in Beacon are child’s play compared to Pitohui’s designs. Each one is soothing to the touch, quickly adjusted for his wings and all are beautiful in their own right.

This current dress in particular is a bright shade of red that goes more into Ruby’s palette than Qrow’s but all over there are black threads weaving in looping designs into the fabric.

The collar is snug against his neck, thankfully not itchy like he hoped. The material is soft to the touch, connected to the collar and it dips over his chest in a pentagon-like shape. It wraps around his back to tie a large ribbon underneath the base of his wings. As for the skirt part, it’s a slanted cut to show off his left leg thigh and its ends nearly touch the floor.

Half of his mind is wondering what’s gonna be Clover’s reaction. Likely praises and kisses. Okay now more than half of his mind is thinking about that.

Qrow is unintentionally successful at making his cheeks match the dress.

“Ooh,” Pito cooed, “I take it that this is the one?”

He finds himself nodding before a chance to reconsider but he doesn’t dare to have second thoughts.

“Well,” he ends up saying, holding up the tail end the dress, “Can you shorten this part? I don’t want to risk tripping over it.”

“No problem.”

Marrow exits a dressing stall, a flattering blue suit vest emphases his waistline but he keeps fixing the rolled sleeves of the white undercoat.

He hums an impressed tune to the bird, “Wow, I honestly didn’t think you’d look good in a dress. I just never thought it would work.”

“What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t make you learn new things,” Qrow said. He studied his figure in the mirror as Pito worked with a measuring tape for the skirt.

The red dress shows off his silhouette, curves and dips in a smooth wave that he vaguely acknowledged with his regular clothes. His muscles add to his features, a strong contrast that brings a depth of both beauty and power in him.

His wings flair out and he can’t help but shift around, see the different angles on how the large things work with the dress. Everything looks too good to be true, elegant even or graceful. Qrow spent years not caring too much on his appearance, just shucked on whatever shirt he could around his wings. Now in this dress, it feels more than okay around his wings because it was literally made with people like him in mind.

It’s kind of refreshing to dress up like this.

Marrow’s curious gaze gets Qrow thinking out loud, “Wait, did the others not tell you about when Jaune wore a dress?”

Blinking, Marrow asked, “He did what?”

“Yeah, did it to cheer up a friend.” That’s one way to describe a memory coated with both joy and grief.

“Huh.”

A dazed off look enters Marrow’s eyes until they wander off to the dress section. His hesitant feet leads them over to the frills and silk and lace. Little Madeleine is instantly by his side, piling dresses in her arms. Qrow picks up the wary curiosity in the unsure movement in the younger man.

Taking a page out of Clover’s book, he says, “You don’t have to force yourself to do this, Marrow.”

“I’m just trying stuff out,” Marrow said, more for himself.

The guy does look a little clueless. After all, simply picking a dress and wearing it is not as easy as it sounds. For skirts, that’s only a matter of hipbones or whatever. As for dresses, Qrow knows from experience how most dresses are designed for slimmer bodies or narrow shoulders.

Thankfully Madeleine is here with a keen eye. She double-checks on the sizes for each dress from hem line to sleeves before handing Marrow the appropriate size. The kid gives him a thumb’s up in approval, assuring Marrow as he goes back to the dressing stall.

“Maddie knows what she’s doing,” Pito proudly states, “she loves helping everyone with their dresses.”

“So I’m not the only guy around here that likes dressing up?” Qrow meant for a lighthearted tone but apparently Pito got a faraway look as she smiled at the sight of her daughter reorganizing the clothing racks.

She needed a stepstool but nonetheless, Madeleine worked diligently.  

“My little girl wants to make the world be as pretty as she believes it to be,” Pito said.

There was a small hitch in her throat at the ‘little girl’ part. It paired with the watery eyes Pito attempted to brush away.

“She sounds a lot like my kids,” Qrow shared.

The mother sends him a knowing look, something that Summer once had when the girls were cradled in her arms. That sweet security and peace and Qrow is slowly learning that feeling too.

They wrap things up. Qrow returns to his regular clothes, an overcoat where the entire back section is gone so that his wings don’t have any troubles.

Marrow hasn’t come out when Qrow finishes paying. Pito has a worried look but Qrow gestures to let him handle this.

Knocking gently on the door, he calls out, “Hey, Marrow, how’re you doing?”

“Okay,” is said too fast, too caught off guard but Marrow tries again with a calmer tone, “They actually do fit, well most of them I think but…”

“I’m not asking about the clothes, kid.”

There a pause and while Qrow is worrying, he also realizes that oh.

So this is what’s like to be Clover in these conversations. But Marrow is not Qrow. Perhaps they have similar experiences, but the dog faunus eventually opens up.

“I’ve never really wore anything that was for me. It was always a uniform and that was safe because at first glance, I belonged to a group.”

“I get that, kid,” he said, “Blake too.”

“I know that,” Marrow’s voice is a bit muffled but a twinge of exhaustion is there. “I just want to be confident in all of me. Like how you wear dresses or like how Blake cut her hair.” His words get softer but they make it through the door, “And May… You’re all so proud being yourselves.”

Again, words fail him. Qrow has those old gut instincts to argue against Marrow’s claim. The rooted knots in his stomach would actually hurt at someone else’s belief in him.

But those tangled threads aren’t holding strength as Qrow thinks of his pride.

Sure he has pride in his skill, in earning the two month chip of his sobriety, and most of all, pride in his kids.

As for self-pride, huh, is that’s what Qrow’s been walking with? Has that been intertwining with his acceptance and eagerness to be happy again?

Unfortunately now is not the time to have a revelation or self-reflection, Marrow is spiraling and Qrow doesn’t have much familiarity on this. He always thought as Marrow as a faunus with a strong sense of identity but Qrow should’ve know better, after all he hid behind thinly veiled self-loathing thoughts.

Qrow can’t get another word out, any idea of comforting Marrow is unsure when he hears the shop’s entrance chime.

It must be luck, good or bad, it doesn’t matter because guess who’s here.

Fiona Thyme is occupied with talking to Pito while May Marigold meets his gaze.

‘And May,’ Marrow had trailed off with, as if she’s the most important person to think about.

Without a second thought, Qrow walks up to the ladies.

“Hi Qrow,” begins Fiona. She’s the most familiar with him sense they’re the ones who had to keep Robyn and Clover from sassing each other when they meet up. She tilts her head, reading into his quiet turmoil, “Is something wrong?”

His frown isn’t reassuring as he turns to May, “Marrow’s in there.”

All he did was point to the dressing rooms and then May was already speed walking there, a panicked and vulnerable expression on her face.

The shop may have that idle instrumental music playing lowly in the background but he hears May gently say, “Marrow, it’s me, will you let me in?”

Five seconds of stasis and holding their breaths, the door opens and May is let in.

Qrow usually doesn’t look too deep into his kids’ relationships, usually because none of them are subtle about their fluffy affection or bad pickup lines. But for Marrow, he was Clover’s kid so Qrow had that innate urge to get on the good side of his boyfriend’s friends.

The other Ace Operatives still claim their acquaintances at best but that’s an utterly proven wrong at the end of the day. Each one of them cares about Clover in their own way and expressed their varying degree of enthusiasm and care for the Beacon hunters.

As for the rookie, Marrow got quite comfortable with Qrow’s flock, specifically Jaune. That is what Qrow is trying to wrap up to, Marrow and Jaune had that coffee thing and then suddenly Marrow’s joining them in game night.

So in shorter words, Qrow cares about Marrow but also wondering what the kid’s gonna do about his feelings for two people. Well according to Fiona who’s here to pick up her dress, the Happy Huntresses are all going so Marrow’s gonna be in a room with two of his crushes.

Just a normal day in Atlas.

They spend an hour longer in the shop helping Marrow decide on an outfit. Well, mostly May and Madeleine because the dog faunus trusts them. Although if Qrow guided the little bird away from the red dresses then that’s the least he can do to prevent Jaune from getting bittersweet flashbacks.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Jaune wouldn’t be the only one reminiscing about the fallen warrior of reds and golds.  

By the time they finish shopping and thanking James’ credit card that either May or Fiona tried to steal, the two huntsmen were back at the academy as the sun sinks into the horizon.

Marrow wasn’t too elated to hang out with anyone so he retreated to his room hugging his garment bag tightly, a relieved smile on his face.

That leaves Qrow to handle his usual amount of rambunctious kids who demand his attention.

The moment they spy the garment bag carefully tucked under his arm, they turned into vultures.

“You got an outfit? Put it on, put it on!” Ruby demanded, bouncing in her feet and just like Madeleine, made grabby hands at him.

Weiss, the opposite of childish joy, pouted, “We were all supposed to go to my tailor together!”

“But we did that other day,” Jaune complained, slumped over the couch with Nora. He’s on warren duty, keeping the thunderbolt out of the kitchen while Ren and Oscar prepare dinner.

“It’s called final fittings.”

“Is that what you call taking three hours making sure your gear is lit free?” Blake teases.

Her eyes are still glued to her book as her fuzzy socked feet are swung over the couch’s arm. Her toes tap the air, meaning she’s at a good part. Blake’s head is rested upon Yang’s lap whose idly combing her hands in the cat faunus’ hair while Yang watches the superhero movie marathon Jaune has been raving about.

“Ha, nice one,” Nora grinned and while Jaune is snickering, she tries to escape his hold.

Nora could easily threaten to hurt Jaune or actually hurt Jaune but she loves handholding too much to do that to her leader. That and Qrow has given her the parental disapproving lecture about throwing threats around.

So far her escape plan is to slitter away but from pure instinct or insight, Ren looks away from his work to just stare at her with a raised brow. Nora sinks back to the couch, just in time to watch the superhero with slow motion powers use his powers for the greater good.

“Food’s almost ready,” Oscar announces and turns off the stove, “I don’t think Qrow should risk his suit against the curry.”

“Dress actually,” he corrects, walking pass his starry eyed niece and his grinning niece and a bunch of other children that have decided to look up to him. “You four,” he points to the couch potatoes, “go set the table.”

He feels a little vindicated when they listen.

Only Weiss and Ruby follow him to his room, the one originally assigned to him but some of his clothes have migrated to Clover’s room. Still, it’s nice to have a place close to the kids. It was also a hassle to be too near to the kids’ dorms simply due to how they are in the mornings.

The two coffee machines and one tea kettle are not enough for the eight youths.

Qrow gently places the dress bag in his closet, Weiss and Ruby instantly drawn to it while he searches for some more casual clothes. Look, Nora can be a messy eater, there’s a good chance curry will be flying thanks to his semblance.

When he’s trying to find a matching set of socks, a futile mission, he hears his niece and her girlfriend unzip the bag and start to wow about his dress.

“It’s so pretty!”

“Definitely a lot more tasteful than I expected.”

“You’re just jealous that your dress doesn’t have this much detail.”

“I’ve worn countless of dresses, Ruby, and a good number of them are up to this quality. I am not jealous.”

“Nice to hear your approval then,” Qrow said. Weiss quirks a smile at him, glad that her intentions are known. “Hey, can you help me with this thing too?”

His left wing hasn’t been feeling great against the cold evening air. Maybe a feather or two were misaligned during his dressing and left a patch of rough wing skin exposed to the chills. The wing wasn’t cooperating when he tried to remove his coat.

“Of course,” Weiss stepped behind him. The first time he asked for her help, her hands shook a bit, too nervous to mess up but determined to do the task. This time there isn’t any jitter or nerves, just helpful and careful.

Once the heavy coat is off, he reaches over to find the ruffled feathers.

“Thanks,” he said to the ice princess who ironically has a soft expression that’s melting his heart.

“You’re welcome, Uncle Qrow,” Weiss replies.

A high pitch squeal exits Ruby’s mouth despite the fact that her hands are clasped over, like that can tamper her excitement. The giddiness radiating off of her matches the squishiness in Qrow.

That squishy feeling always happens whenever his kids, aside from Yang and Ruby, call him uncle.

The first time each one said it was a total shock and it’s even more heartfelt knowing they still continue to do so.

Weiss rolls her eyes, like that can downplay the emotional impact she caused to the family.

“Come on Ruby,” she reminds, “there’s dinner waiting for us.”

She grabs Ruby’s hand and whisks her away. Ruby gives her uncle a parting thumb’s up.

“Clover’s going to love it!”

…oh boy, Qrow needs to mentally prepare for that.