#silver. buddy. you’re way too intense here

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

just read your fic that wxplains how lilia is going to sneak into family day lol. so this interactions takes after that. “Hi Silver! Happy Family Day! Did your mom or dad happen to drop by? I’d love to meet them.” To myself: and now I will finally find out what your last name is heh heh heh!! 😈

[Referencing this fic!]

[Someone actually also made fan art of how everyone else will perceive Lilia in the enchanted gag glasses; you can see that here!]

*Casually redacts Lilia’s Silver’s dad’s eyes* Warning everyone now, you’re going to see redacted Lilia in a lot of the upcoming writing pieces since lots of the requests I got are Lilia-related yes, they involve Mama Spade too 🦇

Fun fact, Super Mario’s full name is “Mario Mario” as of 2015 😂

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Hello. It’s good to see you in high spirits for Family Day.” Silver greeted you with a small smile. “If you’re interested in meeting my father, he’s socializing with some of the other parents."

Silver turned his head, and you followed his line of sight to a small group of adults. You couldn’t immediately tell who was the right man—there was no cap of telling silver hair to tip you off. That’s right, Silver said he was adopted. They wouldn’t look alike.

“Which one is your…” You looked back at the second year—and startled.

A man had suddenly appeared beside Silver.

He took one look at the surprise in your expression and gave an impish grin. "You called for me, and so I have appeared."

His voice, you noticed, was as deep as the darkest night, or an abyss without an end. But it was far from empty—there were unsaid secrets and wisdom threaded in the way he spoke, a sacred and sagely quality to his words.

“You’re…”

"Father." Silver lowered his head in a polite bow. "This is my friend."

"Is that so? Hello, hello! Such a pleasure to meet one of Silver's bosom buddies. Thank you so much for looking after my boy.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all! Silver’s a great guy, he’s very easy to get along with.”

You took a step back and slowly scanned the smooth-talking stranger up and down.

He was a shocking short fellow, with black hair swept into a high ponytail that cascaded past his back. From his deep voice, you’d had anticipated someone more intimidating—hadn’t Silver mentioned his father being a general?—but he moved and spoke with all the care of a gust of wind, liberated from the stuffy suit he wore. The jacket casually laid on his shoulders, too, seemed to come to life and dance with him, relishing the beautiful day.

And his face was…

You rubbed your eyes and looked again, squinting this time.

Something was odd about his face.

You had always known Silver for his strangely iridescent eyes. They shifted color in different lighting, sometimes more pink or blue or purple depending on the time of day. But his father’s features were all jumbled.

Whenever you thought you had something pinned down—the hawkishness of his nose, the shape of his mouth, the color of his eyes—they seemed to change every so slightly. Suddenly the nose was rounder, or his cupid’s bow had sharpened, or his irises had gone from gold to violet to green. Everything seemed blurred, as though you were gazing at him through a heavy veil of fog.

What’s going on here…? Am I not fully awake?

Silver’s dad chuckled lightly. “My, is something the matter? You’re staring at me so intensely.”

"Er, have we met before... sir?" you asked, hesitant. For a moment, you thought you caught Silver's face paling and tensing. "You seem familiar somehow, but I can't put my finger on why."

"No I’m afraid this is our first encounter," Silver's dad said, his every word coated with mirth, "but perhaps some of my charm has rubbed off on my son here. As they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

He dug an elbow into Silver’s side. The knight sighed—but from the twinkle in his crooked half-smile, you could tell it was done in fondness.

“Never mind, must just be me then.” You automatically stuck out your hand. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Mister…?”

This is it!! Hope swelled in your chest. The moment of truth…! I’ll finally know what Silver’s last name is!!

The ponytailed man happily clapped a hand into yours, giving a firm shake. When he smiled, his teeth came into view—the shapes of them inconsistent, just like the rest of his face.

"You can call me Mr. Silver,” he crooned.

“Oh, sure thing—” Your hand went limp as realization suddenly sunk in. "Wait… so that means your son’s full name is…”

Silver Silver?!

“That’s… right,” Silver said carefully. He cast his father a weary look. “Yes. I was named for my hair color, which happens to be the same as my surname.”

“Gosh, no wonder why you never use your last name then!” you cried. “It’s a weird conversation starter to introduce yourself with the same thing twice!”

“Admittedly, I’ve never been too good with naming!” Mr. Silver confessed. He let your hand drop, and straightened his lapels. “But I’m a firm believer that it’s the content of one’s character which determines their worth, rather than the titles they hold.

“Kufufu. I do hope that you and Silver can continue your studies together and become adults of wonderful character someday.”

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[mrstaeminlee]

Mission Complete Ch. 1

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You really had no idea what the fuck prompted you to join the military. Maybe it was to find some redeeming grace in the eyes of your dying mother, maybe it was because you wanted a life with as much stability as one could muster, maybe it was because you just fucking hated farming.

Whatever it was, you wished to any God that would listen that you would have buried it in the ground along with the countless friends and family members you had lost to the Titans.

The first week of the cadet corps was everything you knew you would hate and more. Between the foul smelling breath of the commandant threatening to make you puke up the bread you had managed to steal, to working your body to the point of sneaking away from one on one combat to puke behind the bushes, after seven days you had almost decided that maybe digging in the dirt for the rest of your miserable life wasn't so bad.

There was only one thing stopping you from making your own walk of shame to the wagon of regret.

Levi Ackerman.

AKA the man you fantasized about every night when you managed to find enough strength to finger yourself below the covers.

He was a couple of inches shorter, true, but you were willing to break your rule of not fucking anyone shorter than you for him.

You had only see him twice in your life by complete chance, the first had been when you happened to be by the gates in time to see the Scouts returning from what was undoubtably another failed mission, and you decided that what the hell, might as well have a look at Humanity's Strongest in the flesh. Granted, it hadn't been his best day; his green cloak was splattered with what could only have been the blood of his comrades as it didn't look as if he had a single scratch on him, but he looked like a god, albeit one that had just gotten his ass kicked out of heaven. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, and even from how far away you were you found yourself shivering from the intensity of his dead gaze. You weren't sure what possessed you to lift your hand as he eyes moved through the crowd, looking for whom, you didn't know, or what possessed him to raise those eyes to you, but you found yourself lost in haunted silver as you gave a soft wave. The way he seemed to look straight through you, not even seeing you even as you stared at each other, was enough to convince you that you needed to do whatever it took to see this man again.

You enlisted the start of the next week.

The second time was completely by chance.

Everyone was desperate for military recruits, and desperate times called for desperate calls to important people to make appearances in front of people that were well, not very important.

Erwin Smith, Dot Pixis, Nile Dawk, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Rico Brzenska, and even Darius Zackly graced the entrance ceremony of the new Cadets, and you thanked whatever bone in your body made you a teacher's pet because you had a front row seat to the man that had plagued your thoughts every single day in the past week. His appearance was brief and he didn't speak, just stared at the fresh faces, some cocky, some blank, but mostly terrified new recruits, and you could have sworn that you saw a tinge of sadness hidden in the silver, as if he could already foresee the deaths of everyone in front of him. He followed after Erwin immediately after the blond gave his speech about thanking you all for making the decision to serve humanity and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 'I'm not doing this for humanity, I'm doing this for dick,' you thought as you signed your life away to this shit camp for the next two years.

How one man who was fucking shorter than you managed to convince you to trade the next 728 days, 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds of your life for physical and emotional hell was beyond you, and yet here you were, standing proud and slightly hungover from the pre-graduation celebrating you did with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin the night before. They hadn't initially been your first choice in friends, but Armin was nice to you from the start and once you very quickly learned that flirting with Eren in front of Mikasa was not in your best interest, you had decided that they were alright; especially when Eren's Titan form had been revealed. If anyone was going to have to get close enough to keep an eye on Eren, it would be Captain Levi.

The very man you were thinking of walked on the stage along with Nile Dawk, Dot Pixis, and Erwin Smith as the three took turns giving their pitch. You hadn't made the top 10 but were happy for your friends that were, you were content with your place as 13th. In a class of over 500, you still considered it a win, and if your parents were still alive you knew they'd be proud. As the remaining members of the top 10 who had opted to join the elitest MP's went off to talk to Nile and the other scared fucks ran off to sign themselves to the Garrison regiment, you and around a hundred other members stayed where you were and you licked your lips, forcing your heart rate to calm itself. 'Calm down, you can't work your way up to fucking the strongest man in the world if you die of heart attack before-'

"Listen up you little shits."

Oh my God he was speaking you've never heard his voice before it's so fucking-

"Most of you are going to die. Are you prepared for that?"

Ah, so Humanity's Strongest was a sweet talker.

"Erwin is making me come up here and talk, so we're all going to pretend that I'm saying some meaningful bullshit. But here's the truth: If you aren't strong, you will die, and it will be painful. Imagine the thought of seeing your childhood friend's entrails being slurped up like spaghetti by a Titan, while the entire time he's conscious enough to reach his hand out for you, and you are able to do nothing for him because you spent exactly one second hesitating, or you were a moment too late to draw your blades, or react to the threat. If that scares you, then do us all a favor and put down that half assed salute and sell your soul to the Garrison where you'll spend your days fucking the best whores for a discount if you're in uniform and getting drunk on the clock."

After his touching speech you and your now dripping panties decided that you had indeed made the right decision in selling yourself to the Scouts.

One month later

It was moments like these, where you weren't quite trashed but definitely more than tipsy, that you had never been happier to be part of the survey corps. I mean, you were in peak physical shape (you still couldn't believe you had abs. Abs!), you were hot, you were fit, and you knew Sasha Braus, who had managed to steal a few bottles of top shelf liquor from the higher ups.

You were also horny as fuck. It had been over a year since you'd gotten laid, and you were using the dildo you'd bought on your first trip back into town as often as you brushed your teeth (twice a day, you didn't fuck with cavities). You briefly thought about enlisting the help of one of your current drinking buddies but after seeing your choices you decided to leave it to old faithful hidden in your pillowcase. There was Jean, who albeit was pretty hot even with the long face but was so in love with Mikasa it made you want to vomit. Marco, who you were almost one hundred percent sure was gay; Connie, who held the sexual appeal of a pile of horse shit, although he was super nice. Reiner almost looked promising but you knew underneath those stocky muscles was a shitload of emotional baggage you didn't want, and Bertholt was head over heels for Annie of all people. That left Armin and Eren. Eren you already knew was out, while your slut senses told you he'd be a great lay, you weren't quite ready for your life to end at the hands of Mikasa. That left Armin. You tilted your head, staring at him as you sipped on your god forsaken concoction and debated fucking him or not. He wasn't outright sexy, but he'd filled in well during the two years of training and you had seen glimpses of his surprisingly impressive muscles under his white shirt. He might actually do. He'd be shy as hell and you would have to lead everything, not to mention he'd probably cum in less than a minute, but it just might-

“Did you guys know that Captain Levi is a virgin?"

You spit the mix of vodka, rum, and whatever mixer Reiner had put in all over the face of the person you had just considered fucking.

"I'm sorry, what?" You turned your attention to Christa, apologetically handing Armin a napkin and patting his cheek.

Christa blushed at the attention and scooted closer to Ymir, who threw an arm around her shoulders and gave Reiner her customary 'If you even look at her weird, I will gut you' look. "W-Well, recently I started helping out in the infirmary because they've been short handed. You all know, it's that time of year where everyone has to get looked at and they give us that sheet of paper to fill out with all of our personal information to keep track of potential diseases. I was in charge of filing the paperwork the day they brought all of the officers in, and on the paper they ask you how many sexual partners you've had and Captain Levi wrote 0. But you guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone! This is private information, if it somehow gets out that I told you this I'll get into a lot of trouble!"

Ymir chuckled, placing a sloppy kiss at the top of the blonde's head. "Don't worry about a thing sweet cheeks, if any of these miscreants here says a word I'll kill them for ya. But we don't have to worry about that at all, now do we?" She glared at each person in the room, who all looked as if Christa were a ghost, and slowly shook their heads.

Your life was changed.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

The strongest man in the world.

Rumored former thug of the Underground.

The person responsible for killing as many Titans as a hundred soldiers.

The person whose squad every scout dreamed of being on, was a virgin.

You screeched out a laugh before you could help it, the alcohol doing nothing to try and make you quiet yourself as you fell onto your back laughing, cup long forgotten as it rolled across the floor. The person who initiated your drive to join the military in the first place, the person you literally dreamed of fucking, had never gotten his dick wet.

Clearly, you had your work cut out for you.

If you managed to live through the sight of Ymir reaching over to punch you in the face to shut you up.

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

All The Things She Said | Hermione Granger x Reader Part One

Summary: Y/N has had a crush on Hermione for as long as she could remember. She often spent class periods thinking about her or sneaking glances in Potions when Snape wasn’t looking, but that all changed in their sixth year when Slughorn became the new Potions professor. And luckily for her, things changed for the better.

Warnings: No warnings yet!

Word Count: 3,096

A/N: I’m on a Harry Potter binge right now so here is some wlw Hermione for y’all, enjoy!

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Being in Slughorn’s potions class held several positives. Firstly, he wasn’t Snape, secondly, each class session was filled with far more interesting potions than they had been in the preceding years, and thirdly, Y/N shared the class with Hermione. 

Slytherins and Gryffindors had always shared Potions together, and the two had occasionally been paired together, but now that Potions was no longer a required subject and the class size had diminished significantly, it gave Y/N the opportunity to sneak longer glances at Hermione than she had been able to before. 

She couldn’t believe her luck when Slughorn announced that they were to have assigned seats and partners for the remainder of the term and that she had been paired with Hermione in the front of the class. 

Hermione hadn’t spoken to her very much during that first class period, which wasn’t wholly unexpected since Y/N was a Slytherin and the rivalry between the two houses was more intense than any other in the school. 

Y/N had also managed to get herself invited into the Slugclub, which could sometimes get a little pretentious, but it was bearable enough. She got to see Hermione on those evenings.

Hermione was sitting on the lawn near the banks of the Black Lake under a willow tree when Y/N found her. She was in the middle of a book and was chewing mindlessly on an apple, not even noticing when Y/N approached her. It took clearing her throat to finally get Hermione’s attention. 

“Um, hey Hermione,” Y/N said nervously. Her hands were cold and sweaty now.

“Hi Y/N. Uh, is there anything I can help you with?” Hermione looked a little confused but still had a polite smile on her face. 

Y/N took a deep breath and shoved her hands into her pockets, scrunching them into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Uh, I was wondering if you could help me with some of the Potions assignments? I’m having trouble understanding the theories and Slughorn said that you had the best marks in the class.” That was a lie, Y/N hadn’t spoken to Slughorn at all. It didn’t take a conversation with a professor to know that Hermione Granger was the smartest witch in their year, if not the entire school.

Hermione blinked at Y/N, her cheeks flushing pink. Y/N was trying to decipher whether it was because of the idea of Slughorn complimenting her or perhaps the idea of tutoring another student.

“Oh! Um, I guess I could help you with some stuff. We’re partners now, aren’t we? She gave a friendly smile. Y/N was surprised by how quickly she agreed.

“Great!” Y/N paused awkwardly. “Do you want to meet tomorrow afternoon in the library? Maybe around 1:00?”

Hermione nodded.

“I’ll see you then, make sure to bring your Potions textbook.”

Y/N gave a stiff bowing nod, an embarrassed smile upon her face.

“Thanks! See you then!” Y/N quickly turned and began marching back up the path to Hogwarts. She finally took a deep breath and the shaking of her hands began to subside. She looked up from the ground and saw Harry and Ron carefully running down the path, trying not to stumble over loose rocks. They acknowledged her by nodding their heads when they passed her and continued down to Hermione who was still sitting underneath the tree reading.

At least now they had something to talk about in Potions. The only problem was that Y/N wasn’t having trouble with Potions theories, in fact, she was doing very well and had received full marks on almost every assignment Slughorn had given them. All she had to do now was find something to pretend to struggle with. Easy enough. 

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

Harry and Ron bustled past Y/N on the path leading from Hogwarts and stopped at the foot of the willow tree, panting lightly and looking slightly disheveled. Hermione looked up at them, an eyebrow raised, and a confused smile on her face.

“What’s the rush with you two?” she asked, placing a bookmark in between the pages of her book and closing it. 

“What were you talking to Y/N for?” Harry asked, loosening his tie as he moved to sit down next to Hermione. 

“She was asking for some help with Potions, I’m going to start tutoring her tomorrow.”

Ron balked at Hermione’s answer.

“Are you mad?! She’s a Slytherin who’s probably all buddy-buddy with Draco! How do you know she isn’t just trying to get you alone to hex you?”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Oh please, I’ll be fine. If you’re really that worried, you can come to the library at 1:00. You can hide behind the bookshelves looking out for hexes or whatever else it is that you’re worried about.” 

Ron grunted. He didn’t seem very happy. Harry looked slightly less disgruntled but still had a slight concerned expression on his face. 

“Well alright then, but I still don’t trust her.”

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

Y/N woke up the next morning slightly disoriented after the dream she had just had. She had been awakened by the banging of the dormitory door as Pansy Parkinson rushed in. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and tried to burn the dream into her mind before she forgot. But all she could remember from the dream was the warm, smiling face of Hermione. 

“I cannot believe Draco!” Pansy shouted as she stormed around the dormitory. She had a toothbrush in hand and some foaming toothpaste at the corner of her mouth. She was dressed in some silver silk pajamas and her short hair was pulled into small pigtails. 

Y/N sighed, accepting the fact that her dream would not come back to her. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and pushed her hair out of her face, squinting in exhaustion. 

“What has he done now?” She asked, her eyes following Pansy as she bustled around the room. 

“He threw all of my clothing down the laundry chute and I had to go to breakfast in my pajamas, I looked ridiculous.” Pansy huffed. She paused for a moment, looking at Y/N.

“You should probably hurry and get ready, didn’t you say that you were meeting up with someone at 1:00?”

Y/N rubber her eyes and pushed herself up into a proper sitting position.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, it’s almost 12:45.”

Y/N suddenly felt very awake. She ripped the covers off her bed and darted to her trunk.

“Oh my god, I’m not going to have time to eat! What do I wear?!” She started rifling through her trunk, trying to find something that would be suitable.

“Don’t worry about the food, I brought you a cranberry muffin from the Great Hall. Who are you meeting with anyway?” Pansy said casually, throwing herself onto her bed. 

“It doesn’t matter! But I really like this person so I want to impress them but I don’t want to look overdressed.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. She was quiet for a moment before she pushed herself off her bed and pushed Y/N away from her trunk. She started digging until she pulled out an emerald green sweater and a pair of light wash jeans. 

“Here, wear this. The green brings out your eyes. You should also wear that headband you got in Hogsmead.”

Y/N gave Pansy a look of stressed gratitude and hurried to get dressed, almost tripping over her own feet as she pulled the jeans on. If there was one thing Pansy was especially good at, it was keeping herself calm and collected in moments of panic. This was most definitely a moment of panic.

Just before Y/N pulled the sweater over her head, Pansy shoved half of the muffin into her mouth. She chewed as fast as she could, grabbing a random pair of rolled socks from her trunk and pulling them on. 

Once Y/N had started pulling on a pair of heavy black boots, Pansy shoved the remaining half into Y/N’s awaiting open mouth and grabbed a hairbrush from their shared vanity while Y/N finished chewing. The moment she began brushing her teeth, Pansy started brushing her hair and pulling it back into a headband. Pansy’s hands worked quickly and efficiently, ensuring that Y/N’s hair looked glossy and full of volume. The two worked together like a well-oiled machine, forging their way through the chaos that had become their dormitory. 

“Okay, I say only use a little bit of mascara and some lipgloss, you don’t want to look too done up.” Pansy shoved a tube of lipgloss into Y/N’s back pocket after she had rinsed her mouth and handed her leather satchel to her as Y/N quickly swiped the mascara onto her eyelashes.

“Go, you have 5 minutes! Good luck!” Pansy shouted, pushing Y/N out of the door, running after her down the staircase into the Slytherin common room. 

“Coming through!” Pansy roared as they barreled through the common room, “She’s late for a date!” 

Y/N didn’t have time to scold Pansy as some first years scattered out of the way. She burst through the entrance to the common room and sprinted up the staircases to the library.

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

Once she had reached the entrance to the library, she was panting loudly and sweating a little. The clock over the archway signaled that she had just about a minute to spare. Taking deep breaths to regulate her breathing and try to cool herself down, she began to fix her hair and quickly applied to lipgloss to the center of her lips. She turned to the portraits on the wall and stretched her arms out.

“Well? How do I look?”

Some of the portraits shouted their comments at her.

“Where are your robes, girl? You look ridiculous!”

“You look wonderful!”

“Straighten up! You’re slouching like a troll!”

She took one final deep breath and entered the library. She spotted Hermione setting her things down at a table in the center of the room and her heart started pounding. With every step Y/N took towards the table, the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears intensified until it had swelled to a loud roaring. As she approached the table, Hermione looked up from the books she had been taking out of her bag and smiled.

“Hey! You ready to get started? I thought we might begin with Potions theories.”

Y/N swallowed and put a smile on her face. 

“Yeah, that sounds good!”

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

Ron and Harry were both hiding behind a bookshelf within earshot of the table where Hermione and Y/N were sitting, looking through the gaps between books to keep an eye on them. Ron had taken Hermione’s offer very seriously, he didn’t trust anyone who was a Slytherin. 

“Ow! Stop shoving your elbow into me, I can’t see if you’re pushing me,” Harry complained, rubbing his side where Ron’s sharp elbow had found its mark. 

“Oops, sorry,” Ron muttered, distracted. 

“What are we doing here? I’m sure it will be fine, Hermione can take care of herself. Besides, we could be in Hogsmeade by now.” Harry complained. 

“Give it a few minutes, will you?” Ron hissed.

“Oh please, it’s not like she’s going to hex Hermione in the middle of the library.”

“Who is going to hex Hermione?” A voice said from behind them. The voice belonged to Ginny Weasley, who was holding a stack of books at the other end of the bookshelf.

“Blimey Ginny! Don’t you ever make noise when you move?” Ron said, clutching his chest in surprise. Ginny rolled her eyes. 

“Like I said, who is hexing Hermione?”

“Um, no one is hexing Hermione. He thinks Y/N is up to something though.” Harry responded. 

“Y/N, the girl from Slytherin? But she’s so nice!” Ginny had a surprised look on her face. 

Ron rolled his eyes at Ginny’s comment.

“That’s exactly what she wants everyone to think!”

“Oh Ron, now you’re being ridiculous! Leave the poor girl alone, it’s not fair of you to target her just because she’s a Slytherin.” Ginny huffed. She now seemed frustrated with Ron. Harry silently agreed with Ginny, Ron was being a bit ridiculous. 

Ron groaned, seeming equally as frustrated as Ginny. 

“Fine, we’ll leave it alone for now.” He grumbled, turning away and starting to walk towards the exit of the library.

“Wait does that mean that we can go down to Hogsmeade now?” Harry called after him.

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

“So you can use a bezoar as an antidote to poisons?” Y/N questioned. She already knew the answer, but she just wanted to hear Hermione’s voice again.

“Well, it works for most poisons, one that it doesn’t help with is basilisk venom, only phoenix tears will heal that.” 

Hermione looked up from the table and to the clock that was hanging towards the front of the library. The sky had turned a dark blue since they had first started reviewing together and it was almost time for dinner in the Great Hall.

“Blimey! Is that the time? We better head down to the Great Hall now if we want to make dinner.” Hermione began packing her books into her bag and Y/N did the same. 

“Thank you, by the way, for helping me with all of this. Hopefully I can keep up with you now!” Y/N joked as she placed her last notebook into her bag. 

Now it was Hermione who gave a shy and nervous smile. A blush had formed across her cheeks.

“Um, y-yeah! Of course, no worries.” She paused for a moment, like she was debating on whether or not she should say something else. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Um, would you like to do this again sometime? Studying, I mean.”

Y/N had to force herself not to smile as much as she wanted. 

“I would love to, do you want to meet up on Wednesday? We can study in the courtyard after lunch, if that’s alright?”

“Sounds good! Do you, uh, want to walk down to the Great Hall together then?

Y/N smiled and nodded in response and the two set off for dinner. They had been up in the library for so long that even the librarian, Madam Pince, had fallen asleep waiting for them to leave. It was nearing 6:00 and as they descended the staircases, the smell of food grew more distinct and the hum of voices grew louder. 

Once they had reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the two girls turned to face each other. 

“Well, I guess this is where we leave each other,” Hermione said, rocking on the balls of her feet. 

“I suppose so.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Hermione broke the tension. 

“Well! I’ll see you on Wednesday then!” She said in an overly-enthusiastic tone.

“Yup! See you then!” 

The two girls parted ways and headed towards their respective tables. As Y/N began sitting down, Pansy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down quickly.

“The person you were meeting was Hermione Granger?!” Pansy hissed quietly so that Draco or his friends wouldn’t hear.

Y/N blushed furiously and glanced at Hermione who was currently in the middle of a conversation with Ginny Weasley.

“We were having a study session together, we’re partners in Potions you know.”

“But you said-!” Pansy had started raising her voice before she caught herself, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. “You said that you were meeting up with someone who you really liked and wanted to impress!” 

“Well, I do like her, and I did want to impress her.” Maybe if she pretended that there was nothing wrong with what she just said, everything would return back to normal. She began loading her plate with some of the roast duck that had appeared on the platter in front of her. However, this did nothing of the sort. In fact, it only succeeded in making Pansy look like she was having a heart attack. She looked scandalized, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Are you serious? Of all the people you could have chosen to fancy, you chose Granger?!”

Draco was looking curiously at the two girls now. Apparently, Pansy’s reaction had gotten his attention.

“You alright Pansy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” He said, leaning forward to talk to her.

She shook her head and turned to respond to Draco.

“I’m fine, no worries here!” She gave a forced laugh before she turned back to Y/N. 

“Fine, I can get over you liking Granger, but you can’t tell Draco about this, he would never let you live it down.”

“Trust me, I know. I’m not exactly keen on him finding out either.”

The two girls ate their dinner, distracting themselves by talking about their next trip to Hogsmeade and the upcoming Winter recess. Pansy and her family were going to go on holiday to France to visit some family. Y/N hadn’t decided yet if she was going to go home or stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. They continued talking until the plates had been cleared and Dumbledore stood to give a few, final words before dismissing everyone back to their respective dormitories. 

As everyone began filing out of the Great Hall, Y/N passed by Hermione and the two girls made eye contact. They smiled subtly at one another before parting ways, Hermione going back up to Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Harry, and Y/N descending down to the dungeons to the Slytherin common room with Pansy, who had looped her arm around Y/N’s.

All in all, it had been a good day. She hadn’t really learned anything new today, but she had gotten to spend some more time talking to Hermione, which was something that they didn’t often do in Potions. 

When Y/N and Pansy had finally reached their dormitories, Y/N was smiling. She and Pansy began getting ready for bed, changing into comfortable pajamas, Y/N opting to use a silk green set that she had been gifted from Pansy’s family the Christmas before. Once the girls had settled into their beds under the comfortable sheets and covers and silence fell over the room, Y/N closed her eyes. And as she began drifting off, she fell asleep thinking about Hermione’s smile and just how wonderful it was.

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 3: Rainbows

Title: We’ve Got Your Back, Jack

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,660

Tags: Mild (brief) Angst, Dean Winchester and Castiel are parents, De-aged Jack Kline (he did it to himself), Jack Kline is twelve, Fingernail painting as therapy, Claire is an excellent big sister, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence from 15x18 (twelve years later), Jack has a guinea pig named Nougat

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, Background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

On AO3 Here

When Jack is teased at school for wearing his favorite rainbow jacket, his family comes together to help build him back up.

“Sunshine, you gotta calm down.” He moves to stand behind Cas where he’s sitting at the kitchen table and squeezes his shoulders reassuringly. There’s hardly any give; Cas is a single ball of tension.

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

Dean sets a steaming mug of tea in front of Cas, who glares at it with such intensity that Dean’s surprised it doesn’t shatter on the spot.

“I can’t calm down,” Cas growls. “He was bullied. The sweetest boy in the world, and they made him feel small. How are you calm, Dean?”

Dean sighs and pulls up a chair. “He seemed fine, Cas. I mean, he is God. He was already talking about changes he wants to make once he comes back into power.”

Cas grips his mug and takes an abrupt, angry sip. “I wish he could make them now.”

“Me too, buddy. But he’s learning. Every shitty person he deals with, he learns something. That’s why he’s doing this whole human thing, remember?”

The kitchen’s quiet for a moment while Cas contemplates. He cups his hand over the tea, steam escaping between his fingers in lazy tendrils. “It’s just my instinct to shield him from cruelty.”

Dean nods. He scoots closer, sliding an arm around Cas’ warm, solid waist. “I know.”

Some of the rigidity in Cas’ posture softens and he leans into Dean’s side. Dean presses a kiss to his temple.

“What can we do?” Cas asks quietly. “For now. I want him to feel happy at school.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “Not sure. The school already talked to the other kid's parents, so that part’s taken care of, and Jack said it was just the one boy. I think we just gotta be there for him. Remind him he’s awesome.”

“I just want to wear my rainbow coat.”

Dean and Cas turn around to see Jack standing in the doorway, rubbing his eye. He’s wearing the bee-patterned pajamas Cas got him for his twelfth birthday in the spring, and is cradling his guinea pig, Nougat, in one arm.

Cas immediately stands up and beckons Jack over. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Jack shakes his head, as earnest and deliberate as he does everything. He pads across the kitchen and hands Nougat to Dean before sitting down in Cas’ empty chair. It took Dean a while to get used to the guinea pig, to her sharp nails and shrill squeaks, but now he likes having her warm little body against his chest.

Cas flips the kettle back on to make Jack a cup of tea, too. “Did that boy’s teasing start with your coat?”

Jack plays with the strings on his pajama pants and nods. “I don’t understand. When he said those mean things and laughed, he felt—” Jack pauses, blinking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “He felt afraid, like he was cornered. Defensive.”

“His emotions must have been strong for you to sense them,” Cas says gently, pouring the steaming water into Jack’s favorite mug, a blue one with a big sun on the side. Dean slowly strokes a finger over Nougat’s soft brown head. His chest feels tight.

“Yes, they were. I feel bad that he’s scared,” Jack continues. “And I’m going to work on helping people like that when Amara gives me my powers again. But I also just want to wear my coat.”

He’s twelve, Dean thinks. He’s God, and he’s twelve.

“You’re gonna wear your coat, kiddo,” he says, bumping Jack’s foot with his own. “That other kid, it sucks that he’s hearing shitty stuff at home. And it’s not your fault that he took it out on you. Trust me. If you wanna go to school decked out in rainbows, we’ve got your back.”

Cas nods and crouches down next to Jack, handing him his mug. “Dean is right. Our priority is helping you be yourself and be happy during your time as a human.”

Jack shuffles his feet a little. He cups his hand over the mug just as Cas had done. “Um, in that case, can I ask something?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says.

“Well, my friend Mallary likes painting her nails. They look so cool. But she said boys don’t usually do that.”

“And you’d like to,” Cas prompts. His eyes meet Dean’s for a moment.

Jack nods. “Rainbow.”

Dean stands up, cradling Nougat snug against his chest as the guinea pig emits a startled squeak. “Well, then, you’re gonna have rainbow nails. I know just who to call.”

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

Claire sweeps into the house the next morning — Sunday — in a whirlwind of hair and shopping bags. Even though they heard her coming all the way up the driveway, swearing and dropping things, it’s always a shock when she bursts through the door. Kaia follows quietly, with a fondly exasperated smile on her face. She rolls her eyes at Dean and he stifles a laugh.

Claire stomps into the living room and dumps her mountain of bags onto the couch. “Hi, old men. Where’s my brother?”

“Hello, Claire,” Cas says, lips quirking. “I see you’ve come quite prepared.” He’s leaning in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, an old t-shirt of Dean’s stretched over his broad shoulders. From his perch on the couch, Dean lets his eyes roam appreciatively; Cas has been ageing ever since he returned from the Empty a human, and the years look good on him. He even has a bit of silver in his wild hair. Twelve years together, and Dean still can't believe his luck.

“Yeah, well, Dean calls me saying my baby bro needs a confidence boost, I’m gonna go all out.” Claire starts emptying the bags onto the coffee table. “I brought every color I could find.”

As if on cue, Jack appears in the doorway next to Cas. His hair is still rumpled from sleep but his eyes are shining, taking in the rows of nail polish that Claire is lining up on the table.

“Wow, is that all for me?” He practically bounces into the room and sits cross-legged on the floor, picking up a blue bottle.

Claire ruffles his hair, disheveling it even more, and sits down next to him. “Hell yeah. And for your dads, too.”

Dean blinks. “Uh— you want us to— yeah, that idea was for Jack, actually.”

This time it’s Kaia’s turn to stifle a laugh, and Dean shoots her a dirty look. Cas chuckles and pushes off the doorframe to join Dean on the couch. He takes Dean’s hand in his own and lifts it up, lightly stroking one finger at a time as he looks at the short, blunt nails. Dean may work hard at the garage, but he’s hygienic and doesn’t bring any grease home, under his nails or otherwise.

Now, he blushes a little as Cas brushes a kiss onto his knuckles. “Dean will look beautiful. Just like Jack.”

Jack whoops and shoots Dean a dazzling smile. Dean can’t really say no to that face.

It’s decided that Kaia will paint Jack’s nails rainbow, a different color on each nail (Jack insists that some should have polka dots, too), and that Claire will do Cas’ and Dean’s. Dean tries to ask for just black, like Baby, but gets shouted down by everyone in the room and grudgingly agrees to a dark green. When Claire is done wiping down his nails and applies the first brush of color to his thumb, he has to admit it looks nice.

Jack keeps exclaiming in delight every time Kaia starts on a new color, and nearly loses it when she reveals that she got some tiny glittery stars to sprinkle on the drying polish.

“It looks like a galaxy,” he breathes, eyes wide, moving his fingers gingerly in the light from the window. Dean glances at Cas, who’s getting his nails painted a holographic blue, and is surprised to see a bright sheen in Cas’ eyes as he watches Jack. He’s smiling softly. Dean reaches over (careful of his own drying nails) and lays a hand on his shoulder. Together they watch their kid — sort of God, sort of not — reclaim his happiness one sparkly fingernail at a time.

Once everyone’s clear coat polish is dry (Dean had no idea there were so many steps involved), they take a bunch of pictures to send to Sam and Eileen. Dean almost considers hiding his own hands, but Jack’s gazing at him so excitedly that he splays them on the table next to Cas’ without a second thought.

They do look cool. Sam even says so in his text, after a string of heart-eye emojis.

Claire and Kaia head out after lunch (Cas quietly packs up about half of the nail polish they brought, pressing it into Kaia’s hands to take back home with them). Jack spends the rest of the afternoon picking out a suitably colorful outfit to match his nails at school tomorrow.

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

“This was a wonderful idea, Dean. Thank you,” Cas says that evening as they’re back at the kitchen table, Cas nursing his usual mug of tea and Dean packing Jack’s lunches for the week. “He was so happy. I hope he’ll be okay tomorrow.”

Dean slides the last sandwich into the fridge and lays his hands back on Cas’ shoulders. They’re warm and pliant tonight. He digs his fingers in, leaning down to kiss Cas’ cheek.

“He’ll be okay. He knows we’ve got his back.” He’s quiet for a moment and runs a hand through Cas’ thick hair, following a silver strand with his shiny-green thumb. “That counts for a hell of a lot.”

Cas twists around, covering Dean’s hand still on his shoulder with his own and gazing up at him. “You are a good man, Dean Winchester. A good man and an excellent father.”

Dean sucks in a big breath. “All right, sunshine. That’s about all the feelings I can handle today.” He grins down at Cas, though, just to assure him he’s fine.

And he is.

[witchyfrankincense]

La Méprise (part three)

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: You start history with Spencer Reid in your university auditorium.

Warnings: violence, fight, reminding of trauma, season 13 spoilers, prof!Spencer, student!Reader, suggestive.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Like clockwork, Spencer had turned around faster than you realized no one was following your steps next to you. Your heart dropped more than it already had as you understood that there was something, some nick, that you had failed to catch. But maybe you were the lost one here?

It seemed like Spencer had no doubts about his forthcoming actions – you watched him take quick, aggressive strides towards Mike. Seconds later, his tensed fist made contact with Mike's face. Spencer's act made you jump. Your usual first instinct would have been to yell, to interfere. But this time you didn't.

Right after the action, Mike was angrily pushed against the wall.

"You should stop talking," Spencer mumbled, angrily shoving him at the wall for the second time, pulling the man by his bunched-up jacket. Mike let out a pained groan and scoffed, later inhaling a deep breath of air. "Okay," he spat out. "Okay. Man."

"If you ever even look at me again," Spencer spoke, a harsher than usual undertone in his voice. However, soon after, he just went silent, staring at Mike for a few more moments before releasing him from his grip. You breathed out, shoulders dropping. You felt tiredness wash over you, obvious from all the stupidly scary events that had just happened.

After seeing Spencer turn back around and start walking towards you, you nodded and turned away from the sight of Mike silently chuckling and wiping his bloody nose. You opened the door. The fresh breeze of the outside air lifted your mood and you took a wide step outside.

"Can you still walk with me?" your voice reached both of yours' ears after you closed the door. "Oh, yeah. I'll join the team later," he replied, glancing in your direction. You both went quiet, still walking, Spencer seemingly following your lead of way. "Thank you," you suddenly muttered, placing your hands into your jacket pockets.

"Hm?" Spencer replied to your unexpected gratitude. You let out a small sigh, looking down at your synced-up footsteps. "Thank you for doing that. I would've punched the bitch myself, but, you know," you softly spoke. He smiled. "I'm not...usually a puncher," he weakly mumbled, shoving his hands into his pant pockets.

"I could've guessed," you joked, instantly frowning on yourself. "It's, not like you, you know, look like you wouldn't be able to, uh, punch someone, I was just—,"

"Joking. Yeah. To be fair, I agree," Spencer finished for you, making your shoulders drop in relief. You both let out chuckles. Continuing to walk down the asphalt path, you looked around the university campus. "Yeah, I usually take the bus to university. Quicker that way. I don't have the ability, nor want to sprint here at 8 a.m. Though, I enjoy a walk sometimes," you craned your neck to his side, sharing a random daily life thought. He nodded, straightening his shoulders.

"That is very true, actually, did you know that walks are extremely good for your well-being? Just 30 minutes every day can increase cardiovascular fitness, strengthen bones, reduce excess body fat, and boost muscle power and endurance. It can also reduce your risk of developing conditions such as, uh, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis and some cancers. Unlike some other forms of exercise, walking is, you know, free and doesn't require any special equipment or training," he finished talking, glancing at you brightly. You raised your eyebrows in shock and cheered.

"Wow! Spencer—,' you stopped, realizing your lack of knowledge about his last name. "Reid," he mumbled back, continuing to walk. "—Spencer Reid, the fact machine! Hey, buddy, does that head ever get too heavy for you?" you laughed out, crossing your arms and raising your head. "Hey," he mocked your tone, "That, is downright mean," he raised his voice playfully, his eyebrows furrowing.

You both bickered as you rounded the corner. And, you continued talking while walking down the lonely road. And while you pointed out the apartment building you were staying at.

And when you both said goodbyes after he had led you to the building door, a creeping feeling of awe kept trying to make you fall – to slip down the very stairs you built.

Five days later

Thursday.

"Spencer?"

Three mornings. After the boringly passed weekend, you had spent the last three mornings walking into the auditorium and longingly glancing at the seats – hoping to see the familiar curly-haired persona. But you never did, as each time you looked up, the seat was empty. Had you scared him off? Or maybe he thought you were weird? Many questions swarmed your mind constantly, and, well, there was really no hope of distracting it. Because the only person who could, wasn't showing up.

On the blessed fourth day, you walked into campus, sipping your new-bought iced latte with caramel, dressed in dashing black baggy jeans and 90's-esque top with a bunch of shiny silver jewelry all over your neck and hands, not expecting anything to be different. Because you got it, you understood – obviously he had a job to do, a terrifyingly important one, at that, and going to these lectures and meeting you was just a side mission – a pastime.

However, as you were making your way to the door, you noticed him – Spencer, standing near the entrance.

"Spencer? Hey, you're back," you exclaimed, quickly swallowing your sip of coffee and smiling. He returned the smile, nodding. "I am, uh, I had a bunch of cases, so, didn't really have time," he spoke, joining your stride to the door. "No, it's all good, Spence. I get it. Your job is extremely important, and I definitely don't expect you to, you know, always be here." Seconds later, you mentally cursed at yourself after realizing your accidental use of a nickname instead of his full name. "Shit—, sorry, I called you Spence," you pointed out quietly, glancing at him to watch his reaction. He, however, gave none.

"It's okay—you know, this teammate of mine, JJ, she's my best friend—, she also calls me Spence, so, yeah, you can, if you want," he mumbled out, a smile playing on his lips. "Wow, didn't know you had a girl best friend! I bet she's super cool," your voice rose in slight excitement.

You realized that you both had stopped walking.

"She is," Spencer replied wholeheartedly, smiling. His eyes then dropped down to your outfit. "You look pretty today, by the way," he pointed out, seconds later turning back to face the entrance and beginning to walk forward. Your mouth hung open in slight shock and it took you a good second to catch your expression, shake your head and speed walk towards Spencer.

He complimented you.

"Thank you," you mumbled after catching up to him, flashing him a grateful smile. He nodded. "You know, there's something I want to tell you," he suddenly spoke up, his lowered tone making your heart drop for no other reason than worry. "What is it?" you instantly asked, grasping the handle of your bag.

"Oh," Spencer lightly laughed, glancing at your direction. "It's nothing bad, I promise. I mean—I'll just tell you. I'll be in temporary teaching at this university," he mumbled. You raised your eyebrows, aiming your gaze at the ground. "Really? That's cool," you answered, smiling through your words. "So, you'll be my professor?" you blurted out a thought, regretting it a moment later.

"Yeah," Spencer chuckled back, looking at you. "Guess I will."

Butterflies suddenly erupted in your stomach, and your expression changed as you realized that. Shut up, you softies. You had no idea why you felt so warm out of the sudden, as all you did was think about Spencer being your professor.

Spencer being your professor? Did you have some weird professor and student fantasy?

You subconsciously shook your head and continued walking in silence alongside Spencer, deep in thought. However, a moment later your inner mind light bulb lit up and you lifted your head up, straightening your posture. "Wait, what trained FBI team member takes up temporary teaching for some inexperienced students?" you asked, shooting him a quick look. You saw him tense up, visibly sighing. He looked at you and weakly smiled.

"I really wished you hadn't asked me that," he muttered and you frowned. "Oh—I'm sorry, I didn't—,"

"It's okay. You have the right to know. I've—uh, I've been to prison. Falsely accused," he began, nervously correcting himself after noticing your intense stare. The both of you blinked in shock – you because of Spencer's sudden confession, him – probably because of the same thing.

"Of what?" you asked carefully. Spencer swallowed. "Multiple drug possession. Suspicion of drug distribution. Murder of Nadie Ramos," he muttered quietly. You felt your eyebrows furrow, mind running through all possibilities. "Oh."

"I was framed. But I still spent almost three months there. It was, uh, bad," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry," you replied, feeling at a loss of appropriate words. Spencer quickly shook his head, smiling. "You don't have to be. That's why I'm teaching. I was recommended to do it. It's like a...break, I guess."

You returned his smile, looking back at the ground. "You start today?"

"Yeah."

You began walking through the corridors, making your way to the auditorium. "I bet you'll make a great professor," you quietly exclaimed, watching his somewhat anxious expression shift into a softer one. He chuckled. "Thank you. I hope I'll live up to your expectations." "You will," you muttered almost instantly, voice higher. Once again, seconds later regretting even opening your mouth. Spencer laughed again. Walking through, Spencer pushed the already open door further, stopping so you'd walk first. You thankfully nodded back to him and smiled. "Go sit," he suddenly mumbled behind you and you felt him place his warm hand on your bare lower back, softly pushing you towards the seats.

You inhaled harshly, barely containing the need to arch beneath his hand, and quickly nodded, hurrying to the stairs. Spencer visibly grinned behind you.

Hopelessly ignoring your previous spot, you hurried to the second aisle, quietly hoping that the seat you chose wasn't taken. After all, you were fully ready to support Spencer on his new-found teaching, you obviously knew him more than the other students.

"Hello, uh, my name is Spencer Reid," he started, voice raising on his last name. The others quickly settled down, slightly interested in their new professor. He was easy on the eyes. You grinned to yourself, still gazing at him. Apparently, Spencer did indeed feel your stare at him, so he looked back, a smile beginning to play on his lips as he breathed in. Moments after, he began going on about a whole cluster of themes and subjects he had decided to teach you all. You failed to take your eyes of him.

<>

"Yes! So, this'll be it for today, don't forget to buy or get that book from somewhere else because it shares extremely good opinions and is very important for your understanding of what we're going through! And have a great day!" Spencer raised his voice to express his last thoughts to majority of the students who were already getting up from their seats and heading towards the exit door. You stayed, a wide smile on your lips as you noticed him glance at the leaving students with brighter than usual eyes. You stood up, fetching your bag and dropping it on your seat. You slowly walked towards Spencer, him finally looking back at you.

"See, you were great, Professor Reid," you jokingly exclaimed, seeing him laugh while packing his belongings behind the desk. "Thank you, Y/N, guess I am pretty great at teaching. I just, I don't know, felt as if you were all so interested in what I was speaking about, so, yeah, that was pretty great," he expressed, running his hand through his fluffy hair.

Your eyes subconsciously traced his hand, cheeks somewhat heating up, and you smiled. "Yeah, we were all pretty into your teaching. It's cool, your way of talking, I mean. But I think that wasn't the only reason why they were so immersed in you," you spoke, not realizing your accidental change of view. You both chuckled, Spencer seemingly deepening his gaze at you. "I wonder what that is," he teasingly replied, leaning down to get his case full of books and teaching material, however not turning his eyes away from yours.

You broke the eye contact, deciding that the conversation was way  too teasing for your liking, and laughed quietly to yourself.

Oh, shut up, Ms. I-might-have-a-professor-kink, I know you'd love for this mood to go on for the rest of your pitiful life.

"I wonder, too," you mumbled, feeling warmer. Spencer returned a light scoff. "Well, you seemed to know it when you first brought up the fact, so, tell me. I'm clueless, Y/N," he replied again with a tiny bit of a smooth velvet tone in his voice and your heart almost dropped in fear of his words. Why was he so confident? "Well, I think we're both kinda', you know, aware?" you hesitated, looking back at Spencer. His tongue darted out of his mouth, wetting his lips and he stood back, sliding his chair under the desk.

"Are we? Am I?"

You swallowed, trying to regain your usual snarky mood, while also moving back to your seat and snatching your bag from it. "I think so, yes," you exclaimed, sighing and joining his stride to the door. You both walked beside each other, Spencer sheepishly smiling and looking straight ahead. He didn't say a word until you reached the door.

"Well, why don't you think about that like a good student and tell me tomorrow, hm?" Spencer suddenly spoke up, making you freeze in your step. You widened your eyes at his words and looked up at him. His eyes were shimmering. You both stopped walking and you nodded, feeling awfully hot at his title for you. He smiled and unexpectedly raised his hand, leaning in closer and brushing a strand of hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear. You continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he seemed to enjoy your confusion.

"Goodbye, Y/N," he muttered and lowered his hand near his side, opening the door and closing it behind him. You began feeling weak, reaching behind blindly in search of the wall. After you had found it, you leaned against it, trying to regain your breathing.

What just happened and why did you like it?

<>

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Man’s Best Friend

Allen, walked the streets of downtown Boston. His breath was slightly visible and frost-covered everything he could see. It would have been beautiful to anyone, but him. The frost reminded him of the feeling in his soul, cold and sharp. 

His year had not been a good one. He had started welding school, but though his skills were on point, the classes were much more difficult than he realized. Each lecture and the remembering of various formulas left him cursing. Studying felt like learning a new language, while tutors felt out of reach.

To save money he decided to remain with his family in the south side of Boston, but the stress they caused made him not want to be there. Every day felt like another fight between him and his brothers. First, he and Oliver, were constantly going back and forth over things like his choice of school and his lack of a stable dating life. It wasn't his fault the ladies just fell at his feet. 

His brother Matt and him were always just angry with each other. Allen could not pinpoint what started their fighting, but whatever had caused it, created such intense animosity they both acted like fighting dogs. Sizing up each other up before going in for a chance to kill. 

The only one he was on some decent ground with was his brother François. Sure they fought a lot too. Moments of insults and crude language had become common between them. Despite that at the end of the day, Allen found comfort in his grumpy brother. Allen thought it was because François was the only one that would actually give some kind of feed back that was not an insult.

The more his thoughts lingered on school and home life, the more cold Allen could feel himself become. The fighting was taking its toll, and school was starting to become a chore. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. He felt himself getting close to sna-.

Woof

Allen's head rose, brown hair shifted with the shake of his head, his thoughts were temporarily forgotten. Was that a dog? Most of the strays he had seen seemed to live by a code of silence. Always watching but never barking. For all he knew it could be a stress induced hallucination.

Again a deep woof resonated along the empty streets. 

With the second bark Allen realized it was no mere hallucination. Almost against his will, Allen moved toward the source of the barking. He walked a few feet into an alley. 

It was dark, cold, and there were many different trash cans along the way. Some were silver and metal, others were green and plastic. Trash was thrown in various clumps along the walls. The smell around it made his nose wrinkle. By this point the dog had stopped barking. Its silence made him think that the dog had moved on until it barked again. 

He had come this far, he might as well continue on to find it. In his mind, Allen told himself at least it was an excuse as to why he stayed out so late. 

As his feet moved down the alley he noticed it was shorter than it first appeared. It quickly let out to an old train junction. It was gray in the late fall air and as he heard another bark, he changed his course.

Stepping over the dark steel train tracks, he heard the barking increase in intensity. Then as soon as it started, he heard it change into small whimpers and howls. 

The juncture had been abandoned and in its run down state, Allen had to avoid various holes left from its neglect. As he drew closer to the now whimpering dog, he noticed its source seemed to be in one of the holes he had worked to avoid. 

Looking down, Allen saw a huge dog. It had a dark coat, but it was covered in globs of thick dark mud and small splinters of wood. Allen assumed it was stuck due to the steep walls that prevented an escape. 

The sight alone made Allen's heart clench. This was man's best friend and it was left here to rot. Without a second thought, Allen was crouching down by the hole. Clicking his tongue Allen stretched his tan hand toward the beast of the hole.

It looked at him, before lifting its head to smell the outstretched hand. With no other reaction than the sniff, Allen took it as his go-ahead. 

His hands reached down and grabbed the beast by its scruff. The dog growled for just a second, but once Allen started lifting it stopped. With a couple of grunts and heaves of his toned biceps that dog was out.

With its tail wagging and tongue panting, the dog hopped around. Allen chuckled as the dog continued its romp and looked back up at him. He stood up, brushing the mud from his clothes. 

"You're free buddy."

He gave a firm pat to its head as he turned to walk away. 

It wasn't more than a few steps before Allen realized that he was being followed. Doing what most people do, he turned and attempted to shoo the dog away. 

The dog just stopped and looked at Allen. It's head cocked and showed confusion. Allen tried again and shooed at it. Instead of leaving it came closer and wagged its tail.

Allen sighed. The dog was kinda cute and it was cold outside. Maybe he could house the big idiot for the night. Then find it a good home, or its owner. Allen wasn't sure if the dog was microchipped and he didn't recall feeling a collar.

He patted his thigh as he turned back to walk home. The dog quickly followed wagging along side his savior. 

Their walk was quiet and as the sun set the street lights took over and casted a harsh golden gleam. Allen's once barely visible breathe turned into dragon's smoke as he and the dog moved silently in the streets to his home. 

Allen could see his home in the distance. Its red brick walls and white shutters made him groan. He knew he had to reach the house eventually, but he wished it wasn't so soon. 

Looking at his new furry friend, he gestured. 

"This is it, my gateway to hell."

In tandem they walked into the house. It was quiet and that was never a good sign. He felt the heavy stare from blue swirled eyes. Looking around Allen saw those eyes again in the corner of the living room. It was his older brother, Oliver.

"Allen, you're finally home... and you brought a disgusting mutt."

Allen could feel the vein in his forehead twitch. Clenching his jaw, he breathed out.

"He ain't disgusting. Just covered in mud. I'm gonna bathe it and find it a home."

Oliver snorted at his attitude. Did Allen really think that it was ok to bring such a filthy animal into his home.

"Allen, take it outside."

"No."

"Why not."

"It's cold and it maybe hurt."

Oliver rolled his eyes, he could careless for the mongrel and if it died so what. It was dirty and Allen should be listening to his elder.

"Allen I am going to ask you one more time. Refuse and be punished. Now, take it outside."

"No, it has a right to be here too."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Oliver threw a punch at Allen's stomach. Though smaller than him, Oliver's punch left him winded. The grunt spooked the dog and caused it to start barking.

Oliver looked over not amused. He thought it would be best to shut it up, after all Matt was out drinking with François and Allen didn't have the skills to save it. He'd make it quick and save them both the trouble. 

As Oliver reached for his knife, the dog pounced on him. Knocking them both on to the floor and the knife from Oliver's hand. It landed somewhere in the room.

Oliver held eye contact with the beast as it growled and something in those eyes made him freeze.

"Allen get this MUTT OFF ME!"

Allen having recovered some from the punch, looked amused at Oliver's fear. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to that condescending attitude from moments before. 

"Well Ollie, I could. But you said the dog was dirty. I guess I shouldn't touch it."

"ALLEN LIBERTY JONES! YOU GET THIS MONSTER OFF ME THIS INSTANT!"

Allen smirked at his yelling. It sounded shrill and panicked. He enjoyed having this power over his brother. Tapping his index finger to his chin, he thought.

"Hmm... If you allow me to keep it, I'll help."

"WHAT?! I thought you were gonna rehome it"

Allen explained that had been his original plan, but he just got too attached. How could he ever part with such a sweet doggy. After all Oliver and the big guy were getting along very well.

Oliver's eyes widened before narrowing into slits. Without turning his head toward Allen, Oliver attempted to spit curses at him. But before a full sentence was out, the dog growled louder and snapped its jaws.

"Alright! Fine, you can keep the horrid beast."

With a grin Allen stood and whistled. There was no hesitance from the dog as it stopped growling and walked to its new master. This behavior caused Allen to smile. What else could he have this dog do?

With a quick thanks to Oliver, Allen took the beast up to his room. Even in the dark of the room, Allen and the dog walked calmly into his black stone bathroom and started the cleaning process. 

It was no easy feat, but as he washed that dog he finally checked the gender. 

A male.

That means his scary dog privileges just went up even more. With a chuckle he leaned back and looked at the damp animal. With its eyes covered it kinda reminded Allen of a small bear and the growling from early helped set the image.

"I'm gonna call you Makwa. My bear."

Allen smiled and the dog gave a happy bark. This was going to be a great friendship.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Librarians

(Story Post)

After spending another night with Diederich, Nari was back at the library. There was a different guard at the front desk time which meant another hassle to get back in. She asked for both his patron card and ID and things seemed to be going well until she tried to have him leave his phone because ‘smartphones contain silver'. When he argued that there wasn't even half a gram of silver in the average smartphone, she then said it was to enforce their ‘no photography’ policy, something that was never even brought up the last time he entered. At that point, Nari asked for Kobann and had to be escorted inside again. Looking up at all the seemingly infinite rows of bookshelves, Nari sighed and tried to remember where he left off. He decided it might just be better to start with a whole new section and see what he could find. Like before, he'd started around noon, but he figured the sun was going down when he noticed more and more perusers passing by. Some of the vampires climbed the ladders like him but he noticed more and more were able to float from floor to floor, a vampiric ability he wasn't even aware of. It was the floaters that made him most uncomfortable because they made no sound as the went by, eyeing him with curiosity and disapproval, he bet. So, when one vampire floated up next to him on the fourth floor and placed a hand on his shoulder, he was caught completely by surprise. Instinctively, he spun around and went for a neck grab, but the other vampire was quicker and caught his wrist.

“Whoa! Sorry if I scared you,” the stranger said grinning. He was tall, he had dark hair like Diederich's, and he looked rather smug with his uncomfortably intense eyes. “What do you want?” Nari growled, yanking his arm back. “I don't like to be disturbed.” “I just noticed you're new around here, that's all,” the stranger said. He had some kind of British accent. “Maybe, I could help you out.” “I'm not looking for help,” Nari said. The strange vampire tilted his head. “Oh? Most vampires come to the library because they're looking for help with something. Whether it's learning about their own immortality, or discovering new powers, or…” He glanced at the book in Nari's hand. “…starting a family?” Nari blinked and closed his book. “Who are you? Do you work here?” “Ooh, I got it right, didn't I?” The stranger was quite pleased with himself. “No, I don't work here, but I might as well with how long I've been here.” He offered a hand. “Everett.” “Nari.” He took the hand to shake it but was quickly pulled close to the stranger's chest. “H-Hey!” “I could help you, you know,” Everett said, smiling down at him. “With the whole baby thing.” Nari curled his lip in a sneer. “Let go of me. I have a partner.” Everett let go and grinned as he pat Nari on the head. “Don't get so worked up, I'm only joking! I too am taken.” He leaned back, looking up towards the upper levels of the bookshelf they were currently standing on. “Wes! Come down here for a moment!” Another vampire floated down, this time with sandy curls and bushy brows, and he held a finger to his mouth. “Shhhh! We're in a library, remember?” “Wes, my dearest!” Everett went in for a kiss, but the other vamp blocked him with his hand. “Who are you harassing today?” he asked. Nari noticed this new vampire preferred to remain afloat whereas Everett had alighted on the floor beside him. “Ah, this is…Norris?” Everett guessed, patting Nari's back a bit roughly. “Nari,” Nari correctly, glaring at him. “Stop touching me!” “Nari, I'm Wesley,” the other vampire said, offering his hand. “I'm really sorry about my partner. He's a menace to society.” Nari just looked at the hand and wrinkled his nose. Wesley sighed and grabbed Everett by the ear. “What did you do? He won't even shake my hand!” “Isn't that a thing in their culture?” Everett asked. Nari just put his book back and started climbing down the ladder. “I'm done… I give up.” Wesley gave Everett's ear a good yank. “You racist shit, look what you've done! Apologise!” “Shh, we're in a library, my love!” “Apologise.” Everett dove down to meet Nari on the next level upside down. “Nari, I'm sorry if I offended you. I was just trying to make friends.” “I was not.” Nari got off the ladder and prodded Everett in the forehead. “Just leave me alone.” “Hold on, hear me out for a moment,” Everett said righting himself so he could stand with Nari. “I really could help you find whatever you're looking for with this baby business. Wes and I have been coming to the library almost every day for decades. We know the books. The one you had out was not going to help you, but I could tell why you might think it would.” Nari frowned. “You've read all the books?” “Oh no, it would take a millennium to read everything in here,” Everett said. “I'm only just hitting my 180s. But I have read my fair share and more. I know the system they've got here. I know what books are practical and which are just hogwash.” Nari exhaled through his nose. “…So, since you seem to know everything, what do you think I'm looking for?” Everett smiled. “You want to know how to increase your chances of having a viable pregnancy with your partner.” Nari blinked. “How did you figure that?” “The book you had out,” Everett said. “It was about some Russian vampire queen with fifty children; it's a go to for a lot of vamps like you. But it's completely fabricated.” “And you know that how?” Nari asked. Everett shrugged. “It was just classic sexism. They thought she was a vampire because she appeared youthful for many years and was able to produce children well into her fifties. Men just like to call women monsters when they do anything they thinking isn't normal for a woman. That's all.” Nari put his hands on his hips. “So, what do you actually know about vampire pregnancy?” “One moment.” Everett held up a finger and then floated away to a far-off shelf several rows down and several levels up. Nari just opted to climb back up to look for a different book. He forgot however that the other vampire was still there. Wesley smiled sheepishly. “You really do have to forgive Everett; he can be an asshole sometimes. But he means well.” Nari sort of ignored him because he was trying to pinpoint what was giving him a vibe that this vampire was different. Then it clicked. “You're American.” “That's right, pardon my accent,” Wesley said, bashfully rubbing his neck. “I'm surprised I still got it with how long I've lived with Evie.” “I've never met an American vampire,” Nari said, although he hadn't met a lot of vampires in general. Wesley nodded. “Yep, they really like to keep it in and among the Europeans, I've found out. I got lucky, I guess.” Nari wrinkled his nose. “Lucky? This is a curse.” Wesley continued nodding. “Yeah, I felt that way for a long time… But, Everett saved my life.” “…He turned you?” Nari asked. Wesley put his hands in his pockets. “Yep. WWII, nazi I thought was down picked up his gun, shot me right in the back. I would've died that day if Evie didn't turn me.” Everett came back with a couple books in hand. “He still blames me for robbing him of his hero’s death, though.” Wesley grinned and wrapped an arm around Everett's neck. “Yeah! You just had to be the hero in that situation, huh? Bitey bastard…” “I thought only ancient vampires could turn people,” Nari said. “Really, really old ones.” “The natural ability to do it did peter out a few hundred years ago,” Everett said. “But like a lot of vampiric abilities, turning can be learned by any vampire. I frequented the library many years before joining the military. I'd never turned anyone before though.” “Why'd you learn it then?” Nari asked. “It's a bit embarrassing…” Everett admitted. “He had a wife before,” Wesley said. “He wanted to turn her so they could be together forever. But she got pregnant while he was in basic training. Postman. You know, the classics.” “Ah…” Nari eyed the books Everett had. “So, these are supposed to help me?” “Yes, I can't remember which, but one or more of these talks about birth chance I think,” Everett said. “What do you think, Wes? Take ‘em back to the house for a study session?” “Yeah… We've only been here a bit, but I'm already getting tired,” Wesley said. “I found what I needed.” “You can't take the books out of the library,” Nari said. “Not with that attitude,” Everett said. “Come. Follow us.” “What?” They both started to float down to the main floor. Nari tried to climb down after them, but it took him a lot more time. Everett came back and met him halfway up. “I could carry you down.” “No, thank you,” Nari huffed. “Are you sure? I've got strong arms. I've carried Wesley around quite a bit.” “I'm perfectly capable of climbing down on my own,” Nari said. “I don't even know why I'm following you…thieves.” “We're borrowers, not thieves,” Everett said, setting foot down on the ground just as Nari made it to the first floor. “We’re strong believers that library books are meant to be borrowed. Come on, Wes can't hold out much longer.” “Don't rush me,” Nari said. They led him through the labyrinth of shelves all the way to a little fire exit guarded by what looked to be another familiar. “The library had to put in a fire escape a couple years back to bring the building up to code,” Wesley said. “But it's clearly guarded,” Nari complained. “Hey, Ozren!” Everett went up and patted the guard on the chest and Nari noticed him slip something into his chest pocket. “You have a good shift, buddy!” The guard just acted like he didn't see them at all as they slipped past and through door. Despite a warning on display saying an alarm would sound, everything remained silent. Once they were in the hall beyond the door, they stopped for a moment. It was a narrow passage leading to another exit door, but Nari noticed there was also a wheelchair folded up against the wall. Wesley floated to it eagerly and unfolded it, before taking a seat. He sighed happily and hung back his head. “Oh my god, floating is so exhausting!” Nari stared at him for a moment. “…Can you not walk?” “Nope.” Wesley used his hands to pull his legs up onto the footrests of his wheelchair. “Already told you, I was shot in the back. Hit my spine.” Nari blinked. “But you can float. Why don't you do that all the time?” Wesley frowned and tilted his head. “Did you not just hear me say how exhausting that is? I only learned it so I could use the library. I much prefer my chair. This place has zero accessibility. It's a nightmare.” “Oh.” Nari blinked some more. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise…” Wesley rolled over to him and patted his back. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get out of here.” “Right.” Nari looked at Everett. “What'd you give that guard?” “Cash, obviously,” Everett answered. “He’s a familiar. They don't pay him anything. It's so easy to bribe a familiar.” “Got it...” Nari said. “I still don't know where you're taking me...” “Just to our house,” Everett said going down the hall and opening the door for them. “You can meet the others!” Wesley said excitedly as he went outside. Nari followed them out nervously. “Others?” “You’ll see.” “You’ll like them.”

[writtenonreceipts]

Square One

Of all the tropes I love the most in fanfiction, single parent au’s are at the top but they are few and far between. I took matters into my own hands here.  IDK how many chapters this will be to be perfectly honest.  IDK how consistent I’ll be on updates, so prompts are always welcome for this fic or just in general too.  Enjoy. Based on characters from the Throne of Glass Series

An Elorcan fic

Warnings: None

A warm breeze billowed around Lorcan Salvaterre as he got out of his weary old truck.  The door creaked loudly as he slammed it shut and moved through the parking lot of Riftfold Elementary School.

As he popped the collar of his jacket, Lorcan muttered a curse.  The last thing he wanted to deal with was picking up his son early from school.  It wasn’t that Lorcan didn’t love his son and was eager to see him.  But the circumstances were less than ideal.

Running a hand through his hair, Lorcan entered the front office of the school to find his son slumped down low in a chair.  His son was distinctly looking away from everyone.  Especially the girl beside him.  At six years old, his son had too much attitude for his own good and Lorcan wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it.  Tavish, unfortunately, was more like him than Lorcan wanted to admit.  He had the same black hair, same broody temperament, same penchant to get into trouble.

Really, Lorcan shouldn’t have been surprised his son had ended up in the principal’s office in just the second week of school.  It was a miracle that Tavish had made it this long.

It was of course Lorcan's fault too.  He didn’t know how to be a father and it showed.

Principle Havilliard, who had to be at least three years younger than Lorcan stepped from his office.  He was dressed in a blue button up and slacks looking far more pleased about the day than anyone should.

“Lorcan, thanks for making it so quick,” Dorian said.  He extended a hand, which Lorcan shook hesitantly.  The two were barely acquaintances and if Lorcan was being honest was fine with that.  “We’re still waiting for Marion’s mom.”

Lorcan glanced at the girl and froze.  Another curse rose on his lips.  He knew exactly who the girl was and who her mother was.  Marion had her mother's large brown eyes and thick dark hair and pale skin.  Despite the serious expression in her eyes she seemed like a sweet girl.  As far as Lorcan could remember, Tavish hadn’t had any issues with her before.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” a woman burst into the office.  She was small, her dark hair swept into a messy bun.  She still wore a black apron slung on her hips, a myriad of pens and straws sticking out from the pockets.

“Hey Elide,” Dorian greeted.  

She shook his hand and offered another apology before her eyes landed on Lorcan.

Elide Lochan was an enigma.  She was smart and capable with a silver tongue of fire.  And yet, Lorcan never knew for sure what she was thinking.  He didn’t really know how she ended up barreling into his life but he did know neither of them were comfortable with the other.

At least she managed a slight smile in his direction before she glanced anxiously to her daughter.  Marion quickly became invested in her shoes.  Lorcan felt his gut drop when he got a good look at the woman and he realized that he knew who she was.

“What happened?” Elide asked.  She only spared a brief look to Lorcan before turning away.  It was easy to see the discomfort in her eyes.  Not unexpected.  Lorcan was nearly six-foot-seven, built to play football and had plenty of scars from a rough childhood.  He wasn’t the kindest looking man.

Dorian sighed and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. “Marion?  Would you like to start?”

“She’ll tell it wrong!” Tavish exclaimed.  He finally unwound himself from his seat and sat up.  His hair fell in his eyes but he hastily brushed it away. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Marion shrank back into her seat, finally looking at her mother.

“Tavish,” Lorcan warned, “Principal Havilliard asked Marion to speak.”

His son sighed far too loudly and flung himself backward into the chair.

“It’s okay, baby,” Elide said softly as she knelt next to her daughter's chair and patted her knee gently. "Tell me what happened."

Lorcan watched the girl sit forward in her chair, instinctively leaning towards her mother.

"They took my stuffed animal," Marion said.

It was then that noticed the small plush dog clutched beneath Marion's arm. Elide let out a long breath.

"And?" 

"They threw it in the mud." Tears began running down Marion's cheeks. "I asked them not to, I used my words like you said."

"I know baby," Elise whispered. Lorcan could see the sorrow and pain flash across the young mother's face. He'd never officially met Elide Lochan before. Only once  and Lorcan had made himself look like a bigger ass than usual.

"Tavish told them not to," Marion added. "But they didn't listen."

Tavish sat up a little straighter at Marion's admission, slight pride on his face.

"They were being really mean," the boy said. "And we're not supposed to be mean. Even though you brought a stuffed animal to school."

"It was for show and tell!"

"You're supposed to bring something cool like a rock or a worm."

Marion made a face and shook her head rapidly. “Ew.”

While Tavish threw his hands up in an exasperated sort of way, Lorcan noticed the small smile flash on Elide’s face as she stood.  She was young, younger than Lorcan had initially realized, but that didn’t seem to change the hard resolve she held on to.

“So, what’s the plan Dorian?” Elide asked. “It doesn’t seem like they actually have a problem with each other.”

Lorcan tried not to react to the casual way Elide spoke the principal's name.  Of course she knew him.  If Elide Lochan was friends with the same people Lorcan knew--she would know Dorian.

“Right,” Dorian said, clearing his throat.  “Let's go into my office for this.  Candice can watch the kids for a minute.”

The receptionist gave a little wave from behind her desk and brandished a few coloring books and crayons.  This wasn’t good.

Lorcan glanced at Tavish who did not seem pleased with the arrangement.  But the only other option was to take his kid and run.  Which admittedly would not reflect well on him.

It seemed Elide held the same reservations as she wound her fingers together.  She ultimately agreed with a nod and untied the apron from her waist and folded it the best she could while following Dorian into his office.

Once the door was shut and they were all settled in their seats, Dorian spoke.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” the young man said leaning forward slightly, “but from what Mrs. Talon has said both Marion and Tavish struggle with making friends.”

Lorcan was glad he wasn’t the only one who winced.  Beside him, Elide pursed her lips as she stared at the principal.

“They would both benefit from having someone to talk to in and outside of class,” Dorian continued, “and I think they could potentially get along pretty well.”

“Really?” Elide asked.  She crinkled her nose and jutted her thumb at Lorcan. “Because I hate him.”

“You know the fourth of July thing wasn’t my fault,” Lorcan said with a glare.

“Oh do I?”

“Please Lochan.”

“You’re just mad because the girls soccer team kicked ass this summer.”

“If I remember correctly, you did a lot of heavy flirting with the refs all summer long.”

Her dark brown eyes bore into him with enough intensity that Lorcan was sure he would combust.

“Seriously?” Dorian asked.  He had a slightly bemused expression on his face as he glanced between the two of them. “Maybe I should assign the two of you as buddies for the school year.”

“No.” Lorcan and Elide said at the same time.

Dorian grinned. “Fine.  But I do think you two should make an effort in seeing if Tavish and Marion can be friends.  It might make them do better in class and stay out of trouble.”

Lorcan loosed a breath.  He wanted what was best for his son.  He also knew that his son, like him, struggled with basic human interaction sometimes.  And if this would help Tavish bridge gaps in how he interacted with other kids--well it was something Lorcan would see to.

“We can try,” Elide said finally.  She ran a hand through her ponytail, trying to keep the loose tendrils under control.  

“Sure,” Lorcan said.  

Dorian nodded.  “Good.  Let me know how it goes.  If it’s an utter disaster, I know Mrs. Talon will let me know and we can try something else for them.”

Lorcan decided then and there the arrangement would only last a week.

#

Of all the humans Elide had to deal with she would have rather it be someone other than Lorcan Salvaterre.

As she left Dorian’s office, her stomach cramped with unease panic.  Marion was struggling more than she’d realized.  Why had she brought her favorite stuffed animal to school?  Usually Marion was more cautious than that.  The girl was absolutely obsessed with the thing and would never want anything to happen to it.

“Momma?” Marion chirped.

Pulled from her thoughts, Elide looked to her daughter.  The girl was already standing with her backpack ready to go. 

“Is it time to go?”

Elide wiped the worry from her face and nodded. “Of course, baby.”

Still stretched out on the floor, Tavish scribbled all over his piece of paper with a black crayon.  He did so with such fury that it was a miracle he didn’t rip a hole in the paper.

“Black’s his favorite color,” Marion said.  She tilted her head to the side and puckered her mouth. “I dunno why.”

“It’s a blackhole!” Tavish yelled.  He very carefully ripped his black picture from the coloring book and held it up. “It eats everything!  Like a vacuum.”

Elide was surprised when Marion let out a giggle and shook her head softly.  Oh dear.  The two of them were going to become friends and then Elide was going to have to deal with Lorcan Salvaterre for the rest of her life.  Oh hell.

It wasn’t until they were out in the parking lot that Elide turned to Lorcan.

It had been a few weeks since she’d seen him.  Not since the last game of the little league soccer tournament.  And of course her girl’s had kicked ass.  But being so near Lorcan again was unsettling.  Mostly because she never knew what he was thinking.  He was impossible to read, to know.

“I’m taking Marion to the park on Saturday,” Elide said reluctantly, “to kick a ball around, have some fun.”

Lorcan raised a brow. “Not working?”

Sighing, Elide shook her head. She tried not to let the comment bother her.  It was common knowledge to anyone who knew her, even briefly, that she worked multiple jobs.  She didn’t have a choice, really.  But it was not something she liked talking about.

“No,” she said lightly. “Not this weekend.  You and Tavish are welcome to join us.”

She watched as Lorcan ran a hand over his stubbled chin. 

“You really want to go along with this?” he asked.

“If it means helping my daughter, yes.”

“You hate me,” Lorcan reminded her.

Elide cracked a smile while Tavish and Marion examined rocks piled at the edge of the parking lot.  She had the sense that he was teasing her because for all of Lorcan Salvaterre’s bravado--it was obvious he cared for his son and would walk through fire for the boy.

“And you hate me,” Elide said.  She called out for Marion while turning to her beat up car that could possibly break down at any moment. “At least we have something in common.”

Marion ran over and tossed her bag into the car before settling in her seat.  Elide offered a brief, pained, smile to Lorcan before getting in the car herself.

She was able to hold herself together until she pulled out of the lot and onto the main street.  It was then that she let a tear leak from her eye.  Breathing heavily, she brushed her cheek.  There was no reason for her to be upset.  Marion wasn’t really in trouble at school.  Work was fine with letting her leave her shift early.  Salvaterre hadn’t been a complete ass.

There was no reason for her to be upset.

“Momma?”

Elide looked at her daughter through the rearview mirror. “Yeah baby?”

“I’m sorry I got in trouble.”

“No baby, you did nothing wrong,” Elide assured her.  

“Then why did you come?” Marion asked.  She was taking care to pick off dried mud from the stuffed animal, her little fingers making very little progress.

“Principal Havilliard just wanted me there, to make sure you were okay.” Elide wiped another tear from her cheek.

There was no reason for her to be upset.

“Mommy, why are you crying?”

Elide bit down on her lower lip and did her best to laugh. “I just missed you today, that’s all.”

Marion made a small noise before speaking again. “Can we go to Auntie Manon’s?  I wanna see the puppy.”

“I’m sure you do,” Elide chuckled.  Her best friend had adopted a new dog and puppy was not an accurate description for the creature.  Putting on her best smile and cheery voice she glanced back at her daughter. “Let’s go see that puppy then.”

#

Again, I’m not sure where this is going, but felt the need to write elorcan and a single parent au, haha...thanks for reading! My ask box is always open for this fic or any other too.

tags:  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

[forever-rogue]

Step into the Daylight - Part 1

Summary: While fighting for your own survival, you somehow ended up in the care of one stoic Mandalorian...and his adopted child. (that’s it for now! don’t want to give away too much!)

A/N: Hey, hi, hello, so here is some Mando x Reader bs nobody really asked for (but kinda), that I’m already excited about. I don’t know how long this will be, but for now it’s a mini-series. Enjoy Part 1, and as always feedback and thoughts are welcome and encouraged. Taglist is open as well!

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, some language

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Really?" you taunted as you turned around and wiped the combination of sweat and blood from your brow, trying to keep it from trickling into your eyes. Several more of the guards that you had already dealt with had managed to find you; and they were angry. Perhaps it was their fallen comrades lying broken and bruised on the ground all around you? They responded with blasters pointed at your face and you just scoffed in response, "that's how you're going to treat a lady?"

"You're no lady," knew of them sneered at you, and nodded in response as if to say fair point. but he wasn't having it, "you're just a filthy bounty hunter."

"I was never a bounty hunter," you held up your hand and waggled a finger at him, an expression of annoyance etched onto your features, "I am a spy, more or less like you. But never a filthy, low level bounty hunter."

"Enough with this chatter," another one groaned, growing more impatient with each passing second, the heat of the sun beating down on all of you, "that's how she got away in the first place! Shoot her!"

"You really want to do this?" you asked as you quickly ducked a shower of blaster fire. Yup, apparently they did. You felt yourself growing tired, body starting to ache from the earlier beating you had taken, but you'd rather be dead than let them take you alive. You raised your blaster and shot back at them, “let’s go then! I can do this all day!"

You hadn't felt the pair of eyes intently watching your every move from the roof of the building you were next to. He had been there for some time, thinking he was going to have it easy with you as his bounty, you were just one girl after all.

But when he was first spied you running for your life from the guards and successfully taking down wave after wave of guards they were sent after you, he paused and laid low, observing your every move. A few times he thought he might have to come in and assist you, cringing slightly as you fell to the ground bleeding as they got several hits in on you. But each time you managed to struggle back to your feet, resilience strong as you thought them all off. You were no Mandalorian, but you were a skilled fighter all your own.

"Is that the best you've got?!" you asked as you took down another one, a new gash on your arm as you were down to one last guard, who was, naturally, the biggest one of them all, "show me your best. And then I'll let you join your friends. We can do this the easy way or the hard way buddy, and if I were you, I’d choose the easy way.”

The large man didn't seem amused as he simply raised his fist and struck you across the face, catching you completely off guard. You stumbled back as your hand flew to your jaw to make sure nothing was broken. The Mandalorian jumped to his feet as he prepared himself to jump down and finish the man off himself.

"Seems like you've run out of luck," he sneered at you, positive that he had the upper hand. You rolled your eyes dramatically before holding your hands and motioning for him to come at you. Just as he lunged forward, you knocked his feet out from under him, and as he tumbled to the hard ground, you grabbed his blaster and shot him, making sure he wouldn't get up ever again. It was a hollow victory; you hadn’t meant to leave a wake of death and destruction in your path, but you survived and that was all that mattered now. You looked all around, chest rising and falling rapidly as you realized what you had done.

Tossing the blaster away, you fell to your knees as they buckled under you, trying to catch your breath and alleviate the pain that was throbbing in your side, most likely a cracked rib or two. The blood was almost dried on your face, and you eventually allowed yourself to slump against the side of the building, knowing you couldn't rest there long; more people would be sent after you shortly with the commotion you had made.

A large shadow suddenly loomed over you, and when you tried to jump to your feet, you ended up stumbled back against the wall, the pain much more than you had originally anticipated. You bent over, clutching at your side as you tried to make an escape, but at this point you knew it was useless. You were beaten down and would just have to try and fight where you stood.

"I'm not here to hurt you," his voice was low and husky as he made no move to come after you. You snorted in response as you finally looked at him, jaw dropping as your eyes raked over his body. The silver beskar armor glinted brilliantly in the hot afternoon sun as you realized exactly who he was; it hadn’t taken long to put two and two together. You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat as you realized this couldn’t be good.

“Oh yeah,” you grimaced through the throbbing pain, “of course. It’s always a good thing when a bounty hunter’s sent after you. Especially the fucking Mandalorian.”

“Stop,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth, followed by a long sigh. You shook your head at him, and reached for your blaster, groaning when you realized you had tossed it the side in a mindless moment.  Attempting, mostly in vain, to steady your feet and stand your ground, you tried to lift your hands to get a hit in on him. He crossed his arms over his as he waited for you to move, your breathing coming out in uneven spurts, “what exactly do you think you’re going to do?”

“Fight you,” you insisted, trying to give him a steely eyed glare, which was becoming increasingly harder with each passing second. He let out something akin to a laugh as he shook his head. It just made you angrier than before, so you did the only thing you could think of, and swung your fist back before slamming into his stomach. 

You had planned on hitting him where there appeared to be little no armor, catching him off guard and running away, but the reality was very different. Your hand collided with metal, and bolts of pain immediately shot through your body. Looking up at the Mandalorian, you could tell, even under the helmet, that he was no doubt giving you a look somewhere between pity and annoyance. 

“Shit,” was the last think you managed to choke out before you saw stars followed by a wave of darkness and felt yourself falling to the dry desert floor. Whether it was the heat, the fear, or the anguish your body had already been through, you didn’t know, but you were out like a light.  

The Mandalorian caught you just before you hit the hard ground, cradling your head gently, trying to do no further damage to your already injured person. Hearing some noise coming from down the alley way, he knew his time was up and he needed to get out of there, and fast, unless he wanted to be taken in alongside with you. Picking you up gingerly, he held you in his arms as he tried to keep you as still as possible. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, something you would quickly discover to be his trademark, he hightailed out of the area and back to his ship as quickly as possible without too much noise or movement. He had landed and camped out in a dark secluded part of the dessert planet, and right now he was thankful for that. He just wasn’t sure how thankful you would be once you awoke and found yourself in a completely different place. You were going to be put up a fight, that much he already knew.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was intense darkness. It was almost as though you hadn’t opened your eyes at all. Your defenses immediately shot up and you instinctively reached for the trusty blaster at your side - which was still missing in attention. In other words, you were screwed. An involuntary groan left your mouth as you realized your body was stiff, and in large amounts of pain.

“Shit,” you groaned as you ever so slowly tried to get up to your feet, one hand on the wall to steady yourself. Everything ached, but the parts that received the worst injuries had been cleaned and bandaged up. Under the loose shirt you were now sporting, bandages were crisscrossed over your sore rib-cage.

Crossing the room, you fumbled around for a light switch, and after a few moments of searching you found it, flipping it on and leaning against the wall as you tried to steady your breathing. Glancing around the room, you noticed that it was scarcely decorated, just the small bed in the corner and a closet, along with a small mirror hanging on the wall. It seemed out of place, but then again, nothing in the room felt quite right.

Making your way over to it, your eyes took a moment to adjust and to study your features. Eyes widening as you observed the mares of blue and purple littering your cheeks and jaw, you touched your face gingerly, wincing at even the slightest touch. This was to take a while to heal, which meant you would be out of commission for some time, and if you weren’t able to defend yourself, that might in turn compromise your safety.

You balled your hand into a fist and smacked at the metal wall in annoyance, only causing more pain to shoot through your body. You bit your bottom lip so hard it almost drew blood as you tried to stifle your noise; you weren’t sure where you were or who you were with and didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. 

Shuffling to the doorway, you gingerly pushed open the door and stuck your head out, peering down the hallway for any sign of life. At first it was silent and dark, the only light emanating from one end of the hall. Depending on who your captor, or perhaps savior was, you had to be ready to try and flee, so you took a few long breaths before stepping out. But before you got very far, something small on the ground made a sound, almost like a coo, as it stood directly in your path. 

Having zero clue what it could be, you slowly bent down, wincing in pain, and tried to study the creature - it was unlike anything you’d ever seen before: small, green, with wide eyes and even bigger ears. It was adorable, needless to say, in its little brown cloak, but you were still weary; you’d learned the hard way on several occasions not to just trust something just because it was cute.

“Hello,” you whispered gently to creature. It stilled for a moment for smiling and making a sound of content. You held out your hand to it and it extended its’ own, minuscule compared to yours as it gently touched yours. Before you knew it, there was a smile on your face too, “what’s your name?”

There was no response, but it came closer to you, stretching out its tiny arms, almost as if beckoning for you to pick it up. Without a moment of hesitation, all care out the door at the small creature, you picked it up and hugged it to your chest. 

The small thing hugged you back, as much as it could with its tiny arms and you found yourself getting misty eyed at the small, but sweet moment. It had been a long time since you had felt the touch of another, besides when taking a beating, and to have something so pure come to you for affection was almost too much.

“I told you to stay by my side,” a voice called down the hall, followed by the quiet sound of someone dropping and landing. You racked your brain as you tried to place the voice...it was familiar, but not familiar enough for instant identification, “you need to listen to me.”

“Oh my God,” the sound was small and you almost didn’t recognize it as your own voice as the man strode down the hall and it took about five seconds to recognize the figure. It was none other than the Mandalorian himself, looking exactly like he had earlier during your first run in. Not that you remembered much of that. You looked at the small creature in your arms before setting him back down and taking a few steps back and holding up your hands as if to show your innocence. 

You accidentally stepped too far back and tumbled backwards over a box, loosing your footing and falling to the ground. You handled with a hard thud, letting out a loud oof, as your body starting screaming in pain. 

“Are you alright?” he asked as he picked up the small creature and took a step closer. You pulled yourself back, creating a larger distance between yourself and the imposing warrior, but the effort must have been evident in your face, “you’re only going to hurt yourself more.”

 “Stay back,” you told him in a shaky voice, trying to get up the courage to do something, anything, to keep him at bay, “please.”

“I’m going to hurt you,” he insisted, much like he had during your original encounter. You realized that he hadn’t lied about that part anyway...you received no new injuries, just ones you already had, “if I wanted you dead, you’d already be cold.”

“Where am I? Why are you here?” a million questions were swarming around your mind as you realized he was holding his gloved hand out to you. You studied it, before deciding to reject it and pull yourself up. You’d had to, quite literally, pull yourself up by your bootstraps hundreds of times before, and this was no exception.

“Right now we’re in the middle of hyperspace,” he answered with a sigh when he saw that you weren’t going to accept his help. Your eyes widened as you came to the realization that you were stuck with him, on a ship in the middle of Maker knows where.

“I-I’m here,” you felt the need to point at the ground, “stuck on a ship with you, that little green thing, and...”

“That’s it,” you wondered what was expression he was wearing under that beskar helmet - was he annoyed or amused? He was hard to read, his metallic baritone was emotionless at this point, “you don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, even though you were definitely intimidated by him. When you had first encountered the tall man, you were running on a surge of adrenaline, and probably could have taken on anything. But in your current broken and bruised state, the weight of your mortality was evident and the imposing man in front of you made your heart race. It had been a long time since you’d seen a Mandalorian in the flesh, or what you supposed was flesh because he was currently completed bundled up, not an inch of skin exposed. It was as frightening then as it was now. 

“I can tell you’re frightened,” his tone had adopted a more gentle edge, but you still weren’t about to trust him. Trust was earned, not given, and you were sure he felt the same way.

“Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me?” your voice was as shaky as your legs had started to feel, slowly excepting that there would be no way out of this situation. You were going to die here.

“You were hurt,” he stated and the small creature in his arms looked between the two of you, making an indiscernible sound. He looked at the armored man, seemingly communicating with him, despite the use of any words. The Mandalorian gently set him back down on the ground and he toddled over you, gently latching onto your leg.

You stiffened at first, still unclear of what exactly was going on. Neither of them were trying to fight you or harm; instead the little one was trying to show you affection. 

“What is it?” you asked in spite of yourself, reaching down and picking it up and holding it in your arms, “I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen a lot of weird things.”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly and for a moment you wondered if he was the wanted bounty hunter you had heard about. Rumors had seen swirling around the planets you had been on, and if that were true, then he was just as wanted as you mostly like were, “I found him while I was working a contract, and he was-”

“The asset,” you answered. Yes, you thought to yourself, this was definitely him, “you are aware that the guild is looking for you, right?”

“How do you know?” he asked curiously, “I thought you weren’t a filthy bounty hunter.”

“Just because I’m not part of the guild, doesn’t mean I go stumbling around deaf and blind,” you explained, “besides, it’s kind of hard to blend in when you’re one of the few true Mandalorians remaining, sporting a suit of beskar. It’s beautifully crafted...must have been made by another Mandalorian, am I right?”

There came another sigh and he crossed his arms over chest as he watched you pet the small creature, who had taken in an instant liking to you. “you’re safe now.”

“Safe,” you almost laughed at his use of the word, your ribs aching with the pain, “I haven’t known what’s that meant since I was a child. I’m not holding my breath on that one.”

“As far as the world knows, you’re dead,” he stated simply and you almost dropped the child in shock. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what he meant, or if he was being honest. He seemed to be able to sense what you were thinking, “the bounty on your head has been cleared.”

“What?’ you looked at him with eyes as wide as the child’s as you tried to process what he said.

“You need to rest,” was his only response as he turned to walk away, disappearing almost as mysteriously as he appeared. You tried to go after him, hobbling as best as you could, but he was quickly out of your line of sight. 

Your mind was reeling as you tried to process everything. After speaking with him, you had more questions than answers, but some of your initial fear had dissipated. If he had really wanted to hurt you, or even kill you, he had plenty of opportunity to do so already.

You sat down one of the crates, letting out a long, bated breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding in. The child rested against your shoulder before yawning lightly himself, and you found yourself holding tightly onto him, a few tears silently rolling down your face; even the simple act of crying hurt at this point, and you wondered if all the pain would ever go away. 

The Mandalorian hadn’t gone far, deciding to keep an eye on you, and chanced a quick glance around the corner. He noticed that you were visibly crying, trying to keep yourself quiet as a sniffles echoed throughout the quiet hallway.

He felt an odd sort of pang in his heart as he watched for a few moments. He had no clue as to why as he barely knew you, honestly didn’t even really know your name, but here he was, feeling emotions that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, probably not since he was a child himself. 

He hadn’t been around many other living souls for extended periods of time, here and there as he went on bounty hunts, but that was it. The child had been the first constant companion he’d had in eons, but for some reason he was inexplicably drawn to you. It  scared him a little bit, and he was unsure of how to process the emotions; it was going to be hard, but for his own sake, and the sake of the code, he was going to do it.

You didn’t know you were so astutely watched, as you wept for a multitude of reasons, the pain, your current surroundings, the idea of freedom, never letting the child go.

“You know,” you told him quietly, gently petting the top of his little wrinkled head and ears, “you’ve shown me the most kindness I’ve seen in years. Thank you, little guy.”

He looked at you and cooed, leaning his head into your touch. He reached up with his little arm, and you were curious to see what he going to do, already knowing you could trust him; there was a certain bond the two of already seemed to share. He lightly swiped at the tears that glistened on your cheeks, using of all the might in his little body to wipe them away. You let him do it, letting a small sound somewhere between a laugh and thankfulness, but deep down your soul felt a little lighter.

“I don’t know what you are,” you all but whispered to him, “but you’re special, my little friend.”

You went to put him back down so he could continue on with whatever he had been previously doing, deciding to take the Mandalorian’s orders and get some rest. Maybe you’d wake up and find it was all a dream after all, because right now it felt too good to be real. You moved slowly back to the room you had woken up in, ready to close the door, when you realized that had a little shadow. 

“You want to come with me?” you asked him and he appeared to nod. You looked around to make sure it was okay, that the Mandalorian wasn’t ready to jump out and raise hell for you even considering the notion. Stepping aside you invited him in, following him in and shutting the door behind you before slowing climbing back into the cot. 

You did your best to get comfortable, finding it hard in any position, some part of your body aching however you angled and arched your body. Eventually you decided to give up and accepted the position that was the least painful, your new friend laying down next to you. He was asleep in mere moments, his light breathing helping to you lull you to sleep. 

If you were being smart, you would have remained awake and alert, watching the child’s every move, along with seemingly adopted caretaker. But you were too tired and run down, the wear on your body finally taking over. Maybe this was okay though, maybe you were safe here...maybe you could trust the man and the little creature. Or you were accepting a swift death, coming as soon as you were able to put up a fight, after all, it would be dishonorable for a Mandalorian to cut you down if you weren’t at least able to defend yourself. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next time your eyes opened was when you felt something leathery gently touching your face. You were startled and instinctively grabbed the gloved wrist tightly in your grasp. Looking up, you found yourself face to face, or rather face to helmet with the Mandalorian. He stayed silent as you slowly loosened your grip and dropped your hand back down. 

“You need to eat,” was all he said, the modulated voice already familiar to your ears. You wondered for a moment how he sounded without the helmet, what he looked like underneath all the outer armor. He probably had just as many metaphorical walls up as you did, years of  trying to survive making it a necessity. 

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes, his gaze, or what you assumed to be his gaze, never leaving you. He pulled back and stood up to his full height as he started to walk out of the small quarters.

“A day,” was his simple response, and he took off, leaving you unsure if you should follow him or not. You exchanged a look with the child, and he climbed down and toddled after the Mandalorian. You sighed, whether it was from your own volition or a habit already picked up from your supposed savior, you weren’t sure. Scooting off the bed, you went after them, hit with scent of something delicious as soon as you entered the hallway. 

Following the scent, you stretched your limbs as much as you could, trying to alleviate some of the stiffness you were experiencing. You already felt slightly better, the power of rest, and judging from the fresh bandages you were sporting, the Mandalorian’s care, seemed to be working already. 

Skimming a hand over the metal walls, you trekked down the hallway, following whatever noise and scent you could. It was an older ship, but well kept none the less, it would be easy enough to memorize the layout; if you needed to remain for an extended period of time anyway. Turning the corner you found what sufficed as the kitchen, spying the child already at the small table, eagerly awaiting a meal. 

Unsure of what to say, if you even needed to say anything, you took the spot next to him and watched as the man ladled what you presumed to be soup into two wooden bowls. Turning around, he gently placed the bowl in front of the child, hesitating slightly before passing one to you. You immediately placed your hands around the warm bowl, letting it warm you up. For a moment you wondered if it was poisoned or he had done something, anything, to it. 

“It’s not poisoned,” by this point you were almost positive he could read your mind. Or your facial expressions were just that obvious. You nodded in response before picking up the bowl and bringing it to your lips, drinking some of the warm, salty broth. Before you knew you, or could stop yourself, you slurped up nearly the whole bowl, hungrier than you had thought. You set the bowl back down, feeling your face heat up, sure he had been watching your every move. He took the bowl from you, “more?”

But you didn’t respond to his question, another one that had been burning inside you blurting out instead, “why did you save me? You could have just killed me and been done with it.”

“I don’t know,” it was a simple, straight forward answer. Before you say anything else, he took the bowl and refilled it before setting it back down in front you. You tried to catch his eye, but he seemed to be pointedly avoiding look in your general direction. He took the child’s bowl and repeated his actions before telling the both of you, “eat.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[tainted-wine]

Past Due

Reader X Giran, Dabi, and Mr. Compress (NSFW)

(OOF, This little bastard of a fic has been fighting me every step of the way. It took so long because I was second guessing every single sentence I wrote. Finally, here’s the darkest shit I’ve written so far.)

(This is pre-Overhaul arc, so the bois Giran and Compress are still whole)

Words: 7.8k

Heed These Warnings: Murder, Kidnapping, Noncon/Dubcon, Giran being a dangerous dude, Knives, Forced Oral and Anal, Voyeurism, Humiliation, and the Protagonist just being a total dumbass

--------------------------------------------

For as long as you have lived, luck has been by your side like a bipolar twin attached to your hip. It was thanks to luck that you were born into a quirkless family in the trashiest of neighborhoods, your penniless parents separating and leaving you to fend for yourself. The streets had no use for you; no quirk, no charisma, no money, you were just another parasite desperately clinging onto the city’s rotten underbelly.

But it was also thanks to luck that you survived this long. The average person can remember each and every brush with death in their life clearly, but you—you’ve lost count of how many times this cruel world has tried to pick you off. So far, you have dodged every bullet, knife, and blast of quirk-based power aimed in your direction. How do you keep slipping past all of these dangerous criminals? Your reckless ass has no idea. Luck was simply a sadistic douchebag that enjoyed dangling you over the jaws of death, only to yank you back up and repeat the process like a sad little yo-yo.

As you drove to your place in a panic, you wonder if luck has ever fucked you this hard before.

———

Things had gotten somewhat organized, and by that you mean that you finally had some sort of plan instead of gravitating toward the nearest opportunity that didn’t look ready to tear you apart and throw your remains in an alley. You’ve even made an accomplice, a woman not quite as powerless as you, but an unfortunate soul with less experience in this…line of work. To make things even better, you managed to strike a deal with a prominent broker. Giran was a name known all throughout Japan’s black market, and to think that he’d see potential in a quirkless broad whose notable trait was simply not dying—it was your lucky day. He supplied you with weapons that will make surviving in this hellhole much easier, telling you to pay him within the next five days.

Your partner in crime asked if this was a good idea, that you didn’t seem capable of gathering that amount of money in the span of time you were given. There was no reason for her to worry; with the heat the two of you were packing now, you now had the ability to rob more than distracted civilians wandering the streets.

But before you could even enjoy your brand new firepower, luck decided to be a total asshole again. It was only the second day when you both were ambushed by a group of ruffians. Their quirks were pretty damn impressive, honestly. One of them levitated your gun right out of your hands before you could even fire, instantly leaving you helpless so that the other dudes could close in and beat the snot out of you.

The two of you woke up, bruised, bloodied, and stripped of Giran’s weapons. Damn, you don’t remember a deal ever going south this quickly. Must be a new record.

Alright, so your weapons were gone and you only have a fraction of the money so far. You can figure this out. Your partner was fuckin’ hysterical and you have to smack her before she gives herself a heart attack. The money was barely coming in, and before you knew it, the fifth day had arrived.

Yeah, you weren’t ready to face him yet.

Look, you weren’t exactly running away from him, you were just making sure to give yourself some space while you got your shit back together. That’s why you immediately moved to another part of town and now made sure to never drive down the same route twice. No, you weren’t gathering money for yourself and completely brushing off Giran, like your partner was suspecting. She has no idea what she’s talking about so she needs to shut up already and help you sell this jewelry that you worked so hard in stealing.

Okay, maybe Giran has been trying to call you for the past couple of days and you were officially ghosting him, but she didn’t need that knowledge to add to her stress. You probably weren’t even in any danger. The deal didn’t cost that much, and he didn’t seem like the type of guy to get truly pissed over some petty crook like you, right?

It’s been a week since the due date, and you both were still safe and sound. It was time to get your paranoid little buddy and discuss your next course of action.

When you reached her shoddy rented room, the door was already cracked open. Strange, and very careless; she should know better. You pushed it the remainder of the way and strutted inside. “Don’t leave your door open, dumbass. Anyway, I gotta—”

Your partner was sprawled out on the bed, open eyes still showing hints of the terror that she most definitely felt before her body became riddled with bullets. The smell of smoke and blood finally reached your nose when the shock of the scene before you wore off. The poor gal probably didn’t deserve such a gruesome fate.

“Oh…nevermind.” You close the door and briskly walk through the hall and out of that dangerous building.

------

This all led up to you speeding to your own run-down apartment.

‘Don’t jump to conclusions, now. This might have nothing to do with Giran. Maybe she pissed off some guys behind my back, or maybe I pissed them off and they found her before they found me. I keep forgetting just how many shit-lists probably have my name on them.’

Whatever it was, that instinctive twist in your gut was telling you that it was no longer safe around these parts. You had overstayed your welcome, anyway.

You glanced in every direction as you entered the building. At what time was your partner killed? If they’re after you too, do they already know where you live? There was no time to waste.

Checking to see that you weren't being followed, you entered your room and went straight to packing. You were basically a drifter, so you had few long-term possessions, so few that they could all fit into one bag. You packed your clothes, essential groceries, and your knickknacks that were ripe for selling. You’re loaded up and ready to go, and you don’t even need to go through the trouble of contacting an accomplice anymore. It’s those paper-thin silver linings that keep you going through this endless shitstorm of a life. With a silent goodbye to your short-lived home, you made your way to the door…

And a series of knocks freezes you in your tracks.

The sudden quickening of your heartbeat was dizzying. Shit. Shit shit shit. Whoever is on the other side can’t be friendly, but you had checked! You made sure no one was tailing you!

You backed away while your eyes darted around, deciding if you should defend yourself or find an alternate route to escape. Your only line of defense was a switchblade, so fighting was probably as bad of an idea as it usually was. You looked back to the single window in the room. ‘The fire escape.’

Several harder knocks spurred you into action. You unlocked and pulled at the old window, the worn frame almost breaking off as it opened. The damn ladder and stairs were one room across, but you can jump across the sills if you were careful enough.

There were more knocks, this time followed by a male voice. “Why the hell are we knocking? She’s not gonna answer.”

Another man responded. Shit, there’s more than one? “True. I just like to give the peaceful route a try.”

Something happened to the door that your fear-addled mind couldn’t comprehend. In the span of a second, the wooden door’s shape was warped and shrunken down into a small sphere. You didn’t spend any time to observe the two men at the entrance—you were already scrambling out of the window. The small ledge was difficult to balance on. If you could just get enough leverage for a jump…

“Oi!”

Fuck, you had to take the leap now, but before you could, a pair of hands took hold of you. In a blind panic, you drew your small blade and swung wildly at your attacker, doing your best not to lose your footing. One hand drew back and you heard a hiss of something like “little bitch”, and you thought this was your chance to break free and get away, but the hand still gripping the waist band of your pants got hot, so hot that it reached your skin and had you yelling in pain from the intense heat. With a powerful yank, you were falling back into the room and being pinned to the floor.

‘No no come on, Lady Luck. You’re always here to save my ass, right? I could use your help right fucking now.”

You thrashed and screamed, but then you saw the face of your captor and ew, that shit made you scream even louder. At least make the last face you see more appealing and less…burnt.

The burned man just looked annoyed while holding you down. “Just compress her already.”

Compress? What? Were they about to crush you? That sounds like a really shitty way to go. A gloved hand was pressed to your head, and everything began to distort at a rate too fast for your mind.

It was dark…you felt like you were floating…are you dead? Did it happen that fast? At least it was painless. There was a voice echoing somewhere, but all you saw was blackness. It sounded like it was coming from above. “God?” He’s real, after all?

God sounded very similar to the burnt asshole that attacked you. “That was easy. Why did he need us for this?”

The other voice that you still couldn’t attach a face to answered. “Giran does a lot for the League. It’s only fair that we do him the occasional favor, isn’t it? Her partner has already been taken care of.”

Well shit. Not only were you still alive, but you had been captured in some way to be delivered to him. You wanted to believe that you were in no serious danger, but no one sends two guys to break into your place and abduct you unless they had something sadistic in mind. Maybe your late partner was onto something this whole time.

The talking continued, but the sound was so faint. It’s like you were wearing a thick pair of earmuffs. This entire void, or whatever it is, was uncomfortable—the darkness seemed vast, yet it felt claustrophobic and heavy, like a powerful gravity preventing you from moving. What kind of quirk was this?

The mystery man was talking again. “Your arm is bleeding.”

“Oh right, she caught me with that little blade.” The burnt one said calmly. “It’s not that bad. My arms can’t feel much.”

“It’s not the pain I’m worried about; find something to wrap it up!” There was a sound that was difficult to discern, possibly a long sigh. “She made quite a scene at the window. I hope she didn’t bring any attention to us.”

You heard a grunt from the burnt one and could picture him shrugging. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say that she was a jumper and we stopped her.”

“…Who in the world tries to jump from only three stories?”

“A dumbass, and I’m pretty sure that’s what she is.”

The burnt guy can kiss your ass.

Their conversations were the only indication of time passing. Maybe you heard a few noises from whatever area they were currently in, such as a car passing by or a dog barking, but it was all too muffled to know for sure.

You hope you won’t be stuck in this prison for too long. The emptiness of it all was going to drive you insane. The abyss apparently sensed your distressed, shaping lights and colors all around and lifting the phantom weight off of you so quickly that you had to hold down a rush of bile in your throat.

It’s still fairly dark…a dimly lit room, no furniture, your knees on a hardwood floor, a figure sitting in front of you…

“Good morning.”

A greeting has never filled you with so much dread, uttered by a voice you haven’t heard in nearly two weeks.

The big-time broker himself was seated before you in a simple metal chair. When you met him in the bar to do business together, he had such a nonchalant aura around him, friendly yet detached. The smirk on his face seemed permanent, wearing it even now as he stared down at you, the little rat that has been hiding in the cracks of the city to avoid his sight. You didn’t feel threatened at all when you spoke in the bar; part of you knew that this man was in no way harmless, but he didn’t go out of his way to intimidate.

But now, even with the same relaxed posture and the same informal tone, his presence was sending strong chills down your spine with your brain screaming DANGER.

Giran leaned in, elbows resting on his thighs and a lit cigarette tucked between his fingers. The hanging bulbs illuminated only parts of his face, leaving the rest in a menacing shadow. “How have you been?”

You had no idea how to answer that. “F-fine?”

He gave a satisfied hum, as if he cared about your wellbeing. “That’s good to know. You’ve been hard to contact lately, so I had no idea.”

You swallowed, or at least you tried, but your throat was forgetting how to work properly. “I…” A cough escaped you. “I’ve been busy.”

His gruff chuckle unsettled you. “Of course. We’re all so busy these days, aren’t we? I’m not the type to stick my nose in others’ business, but may I ask what you’ve been so busy with? Hopefully something that involved gathering my money?” There it was.

Creating some more distance between your potential killer might help you think a little more clearly through the loud beating in your head, so you crawl backwards on shaky limbs like a drunk crab. “Y-yes! I’ve been doing my best, it’s just that I ran into a little problem an—” You bumped into something, turning your head to see a man looming over you. His attire was sharp, like that of a showman—even had a damn top hat. However, the mask he wore was rather ominous, the strange pattern resembling an abstract face. He didn’t budge when you had backed into his leg, only looking down at you as if you were a scared kitten.

In the corner of your vision you noticed the burnt one leaning back against the wall, watching you with disinterest. If it weren’t for the cold stare and the peril that he’s already put you through, you’d dare to admit that the greenish-blue hue of his eyes were kind of pretty.

“Don’t mind them,” Giran said with a lazy wave. “Those two are being kind enough to stick around in case I need them again. So, you were saying?”

You tried to recall where you were in your improvised excuse, and decided that you couldn’t risk having such a lie backfire. “I-I’m working on it. I have most of it so far. I just need a little more time.”

Giran’s face didn’t change. “And how much do you have?”

“Um…I…” What the hell do you say? Are you just digging yourself deeper? Is it possible to go any deeper? “Maybe I don’t have most, but I will soon so—”

“How much do you have?” It was firmer this time, making you shrink back. Dancing around his question wasn’t a good idea.

With a shaky breath, you answered quietly, “A hundred thousand yen.”

Giran placed the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag before blowing out a small cloud of toxic fumes. “A hundred thousand…of my three hundred thousand yen.”

Fuck, when he says it like that, maybe that is a lot of money to be missing out on.

You honestly wished he would show some sort of anger; his unwavering calmness was making you more anxious than any kind of rage.

“Can you tell me what you didn’t understand?” He asked.

“Huh? What…do you mean?” You couldn’t hold back the tremble in your voice.

“When we talked, I thought I made my measures clear. I give you the weapons, you pay me within the next five days. For every late day, I add more to what you already owe me. And if you take way too long, I’ll have to personally show you why you shouldn’t make deals where you can’t hold up your end.” He took another drag. You’re getting a feeling that the shrinking roll of tobacco is playing a big role in maintaining his leveled head. “Well, that all sounds clear to me, but there must be something in that explanation that didn’t get through to you, because you just ignored all of it.” Those final words were topped with a humorless laugh.

Just like that, every foolish decision you’ve made during the past week slams down on you. You were like a child that was confident they could escape whatever punishments were planned for them, now that they were finally caught, they just wanted to blubber endless apologies in hopes of being forgiven, and that’s exactly what you do. “Please, please just give me more time. I’m sorry. I just need another chance.”

Giran simply rests his head in one of his hands while pondering. “You know, this normally wouldn’t bother me. I consider myself an even-tempered guy. But you just had to go and run, avoiding my calls and hiding away for an entire week. If there’s anything that steams me up,” his brows furrowed, the first physical sign of anger that he’s shown. “It’s when an uncooperative client runs from me. Sorry about your friend, but I had to make sure I got my point across. Now it’s your turn.”

He reached into his violet jacket and pulled out a knife. Most of it was a large bulky handle, topped with a short but efficiently thin and curved blade. A wood carving knife.

As he rose from his chair and approached, you were suppressing the urge to just laugh at your own distress, a habit of yours that has caused more than one misunderstanding in the past.

“Compress, if you will.” Giran’s hand beckoned you upwards.

The man still behind you, apparently named Compress, locked both of your wrists at your back before pulling you up on your feet. “Hey-I-Wha-Wait a minute! We can talk! I can fix this!” You stuttered in pure desperation. Giran was poking at the tip of the knife and testing its sharpness, paying no attention to your pleas.

“It’s a shame, really. I happen to have one major weakness,” he admitted while inspecting his pricked finger. “Women. I’m always going easy on them—giving them more chances than they deserve. I can’t help it.” He grips your cheeks roughly, making you squeak. “And it really breaks my heart that I have to ruin such a pretty lady.”

“You don’t have to.” Your squished puckered lips sputter out, making you look and sound ridiculous. “Maybe I cou—"

The knife hovering so close to your face silences you. “Where should I start?” He wondered. You hold as still as possible while the sharp metal lingers dangerously close to your eye. “Maybe I should take out an eye? Maybe both?” His grip on your face prevents you from turning away, so you shut your eyes instead, accidentally releasing the tears that have been gathering in the corners. You feel his hand lower to hold your chin so that he can press the blade against the side of your face, so close to breaking skin. “Or maybe I’ll carve out your cheeks?” A thumb brushes against your lips and pushes past them. “You are quite a talker. Maybe I ought to go in there and remove that tongue.”

Your eyes remain closed, trying to focus on something else. The full-body tremors that you couldn’t stop, the press of Compress’s body against your back as he held onto your wrists, anything but the deadly blade trailing across your flesh. Every time the cruel man applied pressure, you braced yourself for the pain of cold steel cutting into you like fresh produce, but he would always pull back. It was pure torture and he hasn’t even harmed you yet.

“Hmm, you really are a cute one,” you heard him murmur as the knife trailed down your neck and across your collar. “Do I really want to carve such pretty skin?”

There was a loud groan, prompting your eyes to open and look to the burnt one who left his post at the wall. “For fuck’s sake, old man. How about I handle this so you don’t have to play mental tug-o-war with yourself?”

Giran didn’t seem fazed by the crude way he was addressed. “Oh? What did you have in mind, Dabi?”

Dabi gave an evil smirk of his own as he walked over. “I wonder how badly I can burn a person without killing them.” A scarred hand was placed on your shoulder and you squirmed at the rising heat. “Maybe we can find out together. How about it, girlie?”

You felt the other man behind you shake with a soft laugh. “So cruel, Dabi. I’m a gentleman myself. I could help, but taking a limb or two from such a beauty would be an unforgivable crime.” The implication of what he could do with his quirk made you fear for your arms that were still in his grasp.

“Great. Chivalry isn’t dead in the world of villains.” Dabi rolled his eyes. “You’re not wrong, though. She doesn’t look bad.”

There were too many hands on you. A rough aged hand caressed your throat and jaw, a gloved hand was tenderly running through your hair, and burned ones were shamelessly groping your chest and squishing your breasts. “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut it.” Dabi snapped, not letting up his assault. “Burning you might be a waste. Maybe I should just fuck you instead.”

Your stomach twisted in disgust at the very thought. The other two men pulled back and stilled at the suggestion. This nasty motherfucker wishes he’d get some. At least there were more reasonable voices in the room to keep the sicko away.

“Well now, that’s not a bad idea.” Giran declared with a nod of approval.

‘Ex-fucking-scuse me?’

Compress gave your shoulder a suggestive squeeze. “A vulgar way of putting it, but it’s an idea I can get behind.”

“Then it looks like we’ve all come to a new agreement.” The sleazebag exhaled smoke right into your face, stinging your already watery eyes and forcing several coughs out of you. “I hope you’re alright with that, darling.”

You shook your head fast enough to disorient yourself. “No! This is sick! Get your hands off me!”

“No good, huh? You think I should stick to the original plan?” Dabi dared you with a dazzling blue flame appearing in his palm. The memory of his scorching touch had you freezing up. “I’m just kidding, I don’t give a shit if you want this or not. This ain’t a friendly hookup.”

Compress leaned into your ear, voice sounding horribly close even with the mask protecting you from his lips. “I’m going to let you go now, and you’re going to cooperate with us, right? Surely you know how outmatched you are.”

Yes, you knew, yet there’s a little voice strongly urging you to fight and attempt an escape anyway. But you knew that will only end in pain and possibly death, and even though you were dreading what they had planned for you, the pitiful survivor in you is willing to sacrifice your dignity to stay alive. And so, you nodded.

“Very good,” you heard the smile in his praise. Your tender wrists were released so that he could take the hem of your shirt and slowly begin to pull it up. Your arms remained stiffly at your sides, the oppressive air around the three dangerous villains suffocating and leaving you light-headed.

“Cooperation, remember?” Compress reminded you.

With a hitched breath, you raised your arms, allowing him to peel the shirt off and throw it aside. Dabi wasted no time in exploring your newly revealed skin, while the gloved hands moved on to work at your bra and Giran undid your pants. You try to keep your breathing steady as you’re stripped, even when your pants fall down to your ankles. The second your bra is unclasped, you move to cover your freed breasts, only for the scarred bastard to slap your arms away.

“Quit it, I’m trying to feel you up,” He wasn’t very gentle in handling you, and his texture was so strange, wrinkled skin and the staples keeping him together scraping across your mounds. While he ventured lower, the other two men took their turn with your feminine assets.

Giran was fondling you slowly, but he seemed to be paying much more attention to your face, the face that you were having a very hard time keeping blank while Compress was massaging your other breast way too tenderly. It would help to shut your eyes once again, but that only enhances their touches, sparking goosebumps all over and threatening to pull a moan from your throat. You chose to look to the side and hide away from the broker’s dull gaze, but there was no avoiding Dabi’s hand palming your clothed sex, making you yelp. “AH! Don’t! You can’t just—”

He squeezed you down there, sending a foreign buzz through your abdomen. “What the hell did I just say?” He scolded. “I think I know how to shut you up.”

Giran made an amused hum. “Well Dabi, given you were the one who suggested this, I’ll grant you the honor of teaching her a lesson first.”

Your stomach dropped at the rough lips parting into a toothy grin. “You’re too kind.”

“Just don’t ruin her too quickly, alright?” Compress urged him before patting your back and stepping away. Giran also turned away and returned to his chair, leaning back with one leg crossing over the other.

The only one holding you now was the fiery villain; it had you sweating profusely even without the use of his quirk.

“Now, on your knees,” he ordered and pushed down onto your shoulders, forcing you to kneel. Your chest was tightening painfully when he unbuckled his belt to draw his half-hard cock. It wasn’t exactly any comfort, but it was wholly intact unlike the rest of him. “Start sucking.”

You kept your lips sealed and shook your head, only to have your hair grabbed and yanked back. Your pained cry was all he needed to shove his meat into your mouth. Your shout changed into a gag from the fleshy intrusion.

“Sweetheart,” the pet name was uttered with a mocking venom. “I’m trying to give you the benefit of a doubt and believe that you don’t have the memory of a dead goldfish, but in case you do, let me remind you that we brought you here to hurt you.” That dreaded heat was back, his hand threatening to call those blue flames and set your hair ablaze. “So which would you rather deal with: being carved and burned into a bloody mess, or having to please a couple of dicks? Doesn’t the latter sound more bearable?”

You couldn’t pull back to answer, his hold on your head tight and unyielding, so you nodded.

But for some reason, that didn’t satisfy him. “I need you say it. Come on, you can do it.”

‘No I can’t, you overcooked motherfucker! What do you want from me?’ Having no idea what to do but also not wanting to try his patience any further, you worked your voice around the thick rod and managed a choked and barely comprehensible “mmyeff.”

The sloshed word made Dabi laugh and you felt him twitch on your tongue. “Cute. That’s good enough. Now put that mouth to work so I won’t have to turn your head into a torch.”

Admitting defeat, you moved your head to take in more of his growing erection, wriggling your tongue in a poor attempt to get away from his salty taste, only to stimulate him in the process. You feel him respond with shaky breaths, but the fact that you’re servicing this terrible man doesn’t make you want to try any harder.

Dabi realizes your slow pace isn’t changing and his grumpiness quickly returns. “Oh come on, put a little more energy into it. A quirkless bitch living in the worst part of town, this can’t be the first time you’ve had to suck dick to save your life.” You look up and glare at him, which didn’t do much to intimidate when you were blowing him at the same time. He only smirked. “If you don’t pick up the pace, then I’ll have to take charge, and I don’t think you’d want that.”

You push yourself to put in more effort, taking in more of his now fully swollen cock and gagging pathetically. Despite what the singed shithead had guessed, you weren’t experienced with this. Your sex life boils down to a couple of hookups. This hectic existence with its cast of untrustworty characters wasn’t suitable for any kind of serious relationship, and sexual favors were something you tried to avoid as much as possible. Those rare nights with a partner were nothing like this, and you sure as hell would never ask for a fucking audience. A wisp of smoke nearby reminded you of Giran’s presence.

The sick broker was just sitting and watching with interest, his smirk still present. He seemed satisfied with just watching you in this humiliating state. Compress stood out of sight, but he was most likely doing the same. It made you just want to curl up and hide from these hungry eyes.

You heard a tired sigh over you as Dabi adjusted his grip and was now holding both sides of your face.There was no warning when he thrusted forward to jam himself into the back of your throat, the sting making your eyes well up.

“Sorry, but I think I’ve given you enough chances,” Dabi panted while reveling in the feel of your mouth all around him. His cock slid back and allowed you to breathe for just a second or two before plunging back in.

Breathing through your nose was the only option as he pumped in and out of your throat with little restraint. You gurgled helplessly and tried to push at his thighs to keep him from going so deep, but that only made him chuckle and fuck your mouth more roughly. He was in complete control now, so all you could do was take it as best as you could. Saliva gathered as your throat was violated, some of it oozing past your lips and running down your chin.

“Look at you, turning into a drooling mess for my cock. You like having your mouth fucked just like a pussy?” Demeaning words were spoken between his grunts, commenting on the depraved state of your face—you could only imagine how you looked at the moment with your extra lubricated mouth allowing him to move in and out more easily.

The erratic slams of his hips against your face signaled that this torture will be ending soon, as long as you could endure the assault on your windpipe that was making you dizzy. Any cry of distress or plea to slow down was reduced to wet gurgles and more spit bubbling from your mouth. With a teeth-clenched growl, Dabi presses your face flush against his pelvis, engulfed by his musky scent as cum shoots straight down your throat. Black spots were appearing in your vision with both your nose and throat blocked. ‘Can’t breathe…can’t…’

“Hang in there, just need to make sure you swallow every last drop.” He keeps your head locked in place so that you could feel every spasm as he feeds you his seed. Finally, he releases you and steps back, allowing oxygen to rush into your lungs as you coughed and wheezed.

“Whoops, maybe I went a little overboard,” Dabi joked at your shaking form that was hunched over hacking up a mixture of saliva and semen. That fucking bastard…

“You think?” A sarcastic remark sounded from an approaching presence behind you. Compress kneels beside you, placing a hand on your back as your coughing fit slowly died down. “That’s not my ideal way of punishing a lady. Wouldn’t you agree, Giran?”

You didn’t have the strength to look at said man and the amused expression that he was undoubtedly wearing. “I’m not picky myself. It was a good show,” you heard him say. You can physically feel your dignity leaving you.

“Well, I can give you a better one.” The phony gentleman grabbed and straightened you up. You noticed that he had removed his hat, his head concealed by what may be a ski mask. It was strangely symbolic—beneath all of that pizzazz was just another unforgiving criminal. “Dabi certainly did a number on you, didn’t he?” He observed, fingers tracing over your chest and the drying drool that had trailed down. You heard a “damn right” from Dabi who had returned to his spot at the wall. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t leave you so roughed up.”

His words did nothing to alleviate the growing fear as his hand wandered down to your panties, fingers pressing against the damp cloth. “Oh my…and here I was thinking he was being too hard on you. Looks like you didn’t hate it as much as I thought.”

You shuddered at the small chorus of laughter from all three men. Dabi took the opportunity to taunt you again. “I had a feeling she was the type that loves being treated like a hole. The bitch probably would have gotten off if I went a little longer, not that she deserves to.”

“Ah, but I think she does. In fact,” Compress pulled the underwear to the side and touched your slick directly, making you gasp. “I’d say she deserves more than she can handle.”

“N…St…op…” Your voice was hoarse from the abuse your throat had gone through. His fingers began soft strokes against your glistening folds, a feeling that wasn’t unpleasant, but you held back your whimpers to avoid both the vocal strain and giving him any gratification.

The gloved digits moved skillfully across your sensitive lips, kindling a hot desire deep inside of you. No, you really didn’t want to be feeling that from him. Your own hands curl into fists when you feel him prod at your opening, just barely penetrating you and making you bite your lip in a painful effort to suppress a moan.

He looks right at you; you can only guess what face he was making. “Trying not to make any noise, are you?” His free hand removed the patterned mask, revealing chocolate eyes and a smile that wasn’t at all sweet. “I sure do love a challenge. Then again, I already know that I’ll win.”

Any retort you had prepared died on your lips when two fingers slipped into your heat, unable to hold back your whimper even with your mouth closed. “There it is,” he purred close to your face. “But I think we can do better.”

Your cunt throbbed with each brush against your walls. He couldn’t go too deep in your current position, but that didn’t deter him as he pistoned in and out, flexing his fingers every which way until he found that forbidden spot that made you wail. The white hot heat was threatening to smother you completely. You found yourself grasping his arm and weakly pushing at it, silently begging to make it stop before you burst.

‘Don’t look ahead…Giran is watching…don’t look ahead…’ The mantra repeated in your head, echoing loudly to distract you from the unstable knot in your core. The inner chant was to no avail—several hard presses against your nerves had you crumbling beneath the searing heat of your climax. With no restraint remaining, your broken whines rushed out of your convulsing body and echoed through the room. A thumb circles your clit and prolongs the all-powerful sensation.

“Try to bear it, darling.” Compress says to you, but his voice sounds so far away, drowned out by the vibrations starting from your pussy and spreading all over, engulfing you. Even after your orgasm passes, the assault on your sensitive womanhood doesn’t stop, the sensations becoming painful. You would have fallen over if Compress wasn’t holding you, his arm wrapped around you in an insultingly affectionate embrace as he continued to overstimulate you. The words falling from your lips were weak and incoherent, the occasional ‘no’ and ‘too much’ being heard.

Sobbing in the villain’s shoulders, you can make out the blurred violet figure in your foggy vision, still lounging and taking silent delight in your struggles. You just barely noticed the slight curve of his lips as Compress forced you to cum again, pitting your muscles against another wave of excruciating spasms. This time he did let you collapse, your body sprawled out on the floor as your walls continued to clench.

“Hmmph, not bad.” Dabi can be heard, and his voice alone makes your throat burn again.

Compress was still close, curiously squishing your juices between his fingers. “I could have gone for longer, but she still needs energy for the main act.”

You hear a dark laugh from Giran. “So generous of you Compress. What would I do without you gentlemen? Just do me one more favor and remove the rest of your clothes.”

“Of course,” the showman moved over to fully strip you. You stayed limp as he pulled your drenched panties down along with your pants that were still hanging at your feet, then moving on to remove your shoes. You were now completely bare, body shivering despite the warm still air of the room.

“Alright, miss. That’s enough rest. Time to get up and come over here.” Giran orders coolly. There was no urgency in his voice, but you knew you shouldn’t keep him waiting. If only your entire lower body wasn’t screaming. Compress sensed your plight and took hold of your waist, prepared to pull you up.

“No no,” Giran held up a hand while stomping out his cigarette. “She’s a big girl and can stand on her own.”

Compress simply shrugged and retreated, leaving you to force your aching arms and legs to move and lift you up.

Even after being violated, you still couldn’t resist covering your chest and mound as you slowly approached the man that you deeply regret ever getting involved with. You tried to ignore how gross your body felt—the salty fleshy taste lingering on your tongue, the wetness that continued to run down your  legs, your bare feet shuffling across the old dusty floor. There was a prominent bulge in his pants, revealing just how much this was all exciting him.

“Sit down and have a ride on me.” It was said so casually that you needed a moment to comprehend.

Dabi barked impatiently. “Hey, don’t just stand there like a modest statue.”

Realizing that Giran isn’t going to take out his erection himself, you lean in to open up his pants, fighting every urge to pull your hands away as they work at the buttons and zipper, pulling down his underwear to watch his cock spring out. He didn’t seem to react, only watching your face like he has been since you’ve been tossed into this damned place. You stare at his waiting dick until you accept that you have to get closer, standing over his legs before lowering yourself down onto his lap. You have to grab the soft yet firm organ to keep it in place as it touches your opening.

He was so close, smoke-scented breath hitting your skin. There was no way to avoid his gaze at this proximity. He was free to see all of the shameful details on your tear-stained face.

It pains you to admit that Compress’s fingers made the stretch more bearable as Giran’s head pushes into your cavern that was still sensitive from the previous man’s onslaught. You had to place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as your hips sunk down on him, breaths shallow throughout your poor attempt to stay relaxed and not tighten up. Several inches later, you had him fully sheathed inside you.

“Good. Very good.” His voice was low and rugged, eyes closing briefly so that he can take in your surrounding heat. “Now start moving. I didn’t bring you over just to keep me warm.”

You didn’t have enough pride left to protest, so you did as instructed, slowly lifting your hips before bringing them back down, ignoring the strain put on your thighs. Giran placed a hand on your ass, the contact making your pace falter for just a second. He looked so at ease as you bounced on him that you wondered, if it was just the two of you, perhaps you could have taken this as an opportunity to attack. But in the current situation, it would only lead to certain death. The thought leaves your mind as quickly as it came.

“Three days.” The two words cut through your weary breaths and the squelch of your pussy. You give Giran a look of confusion before he specifies. “I’m giving you three more days to collect the money.”

The news surprises you enough to halt your hips, an action he doesn’t approve of.

“I didn’t say stop.” The warning in his tone had you instantly moving again. He lightened at your compliance; he sure knew how to flip his friendly mode on and off like a damn light switch. “Very good. I’m trying to show you some more mercy here. Don’t ruin it for yourself. Anyway, you need to hurry and do whatever you can to get that money. Steal, call some old friends, maybe sell your body? I don’t think you’d be half-bad at that.” He gave your rear a light smack, making your walls squeeze him in shock. “If you don’t have enough by the time we meet again, your lovely body won’t stop me from peeling your skin off a second time. Are we clear, sweetheart?”

The fear from his threat grips your chest as you keep trying to please him, moving in a way that keeps his dick away from your g-spot. “Yes,” you whimper through your pants.

Giran caught on to what you were doing. “I’m not convinced.” Both of his hands take hold of your hips and push you down, forcing stimulation on your hypersensitive bundle of nerves. A scream rips through your burning throat. “I’ll say it again: Are we clear?”

“Yes!” Your voice cracks and tears are flowing down your face once again.

“You won’t run from me again?”

“No! I swear I won’t!”

“Good girl.” He was the one setting the pace at this point, forcing you up and down in pursuit of his release. There was another agonizing orgasm growing in your abdomen, but the hands controlling your movements weren’t giving you a chance to escape the inevitable storm.

The final slam collides his throbbing cock with your cervix, and the pained pleasure has you quivering in his hold, crinkling his shirt with your white-knuckled grip as you cried out from every foul spurt into your womb. His soft groans were heated against your neck.

His pats of approval on your back are enough to push your worn figure into his chest. He chuckles and rubs you like a lover that didn’t just force you into the most disgraceful moment of your life. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Despite your limbs feeling like pure lead, you wanted to get off this man as soon as possible. “Please just let me go.”

His smile filled you with a fresh wave of dread. “Soon, darling. But I need to make sure I’ve made my point. I think the other two gentlemen would appreciate a turn.”

You heard the quick footsteps before he even finished, scarred hands grabbing and pulling you off of Giran’s softening cock. Fuck, the two had been so quiet for the past moment that you forgot about their presence.

You jolt at the feel of Dabi’s revived hard-on pressing against your back while Compress stops right in front of you, his own length bobbing freely. You flinched at the damp gloves caressing your chin and lips.  “Are you ready to return the favor? Don’t worry, I won’t treat your mouth as badly as Dabi did.”

“Sadly,” The crueler man behind you added before pressing down and bending you forward, your head now leveled with Compress’s waiting dick.

“Open up for me,” he orders with a hand resting in your hair. Your jaw still ached from the last cock in your mouth; you hoped that he truly was going to at least be more gentle as you parted your lips and took him in.

Dabi rubbed up and down your spine as he watched. “Well look at you, such an obedient little bitch now.” He began to knead your ass cheeks before spreading them, your body tensing in fear as a finger toyed with your back entrance.

“I’m not a fan of sloppy seconds, guess I’ll have to take another hole.” It was the only warning he gave before his thickness was pushing forcefully into your unprepared ass. The searing pain was as intense as his quirk, your muffled shrieks vibrating against Compress and making him moan. Dabi smiled at your suffering. “Can’t complain, ‘cause this sounds a lot better. Hope I don’t do too much damage in there.”

He fucked you as hard and fast as your tight passage would allow, pushing the other villain’s dick further into your throat with each thrust.

Soon, they will switch places. And then they will take you separately. And Giran will stay seated, taking pleasure in watching you break.

Your mind eventually wanders to what will happen afterwards, if there is any possible way to right the biggest wrong you’ve ever committed…or if you simply had three days left to live.

It feels like luck is done saving you.

--------------------------------------------

tagging @mothwithteeth​ because their thirst for Giran inspired me. Go check them and their awesome work out!

[silvermoonshipping-is-love]

I don't know if you write drabbles or headcanons with prompts but here we go. I just want some wholesome DrownedSilver content-- To give context,in my own Pokémon headcanon all the protagonists are deaf [But use hear-aids] and speak in sign language. That's why we don't see them talk in the games. And Lost Silver,as an old Pokémon protagonist,is no exception. So-- Maybe could you write something about it with DrownedSilver? Like headcanons and stuff?

Buddy, ALL DrownedSilver content is either super wholesome or super angsty-

But Ohhh, I've seen those types of HCs floating around and I do have some AUs where Silver uses sign language or smth similar, though more often than not he's just mute, not deaf. And I did have an old drabble, as I write both, but idk if it's exactly what you're looking for, and also it has a kinda, though very subtly, triggering topic, so once again, be careful.

Also is it weird/bad that my first thought was just: “A Silent Voice” Crossover with DrownedSilver?

But I'll try my best!

 Since Silver usually and at first never really had his limbs, more specifically his arms, back, Ben was the one to figure out some possible solutions, as he can use his unowns to either spell it out

Or the both of them can create text boxes, which is also great for when Silver's hearing ads went out

However Silver wasn't using them outside of necessities and once he got his arms back, he went back to his old roots, and just flailing his arms around excitedly, attempting to talk from time to time (Idk if he became deaf or was deaf from birth)

Ben was happy for him, but couldn't decipher anything in the slightest, he didn't even know of sign language before this, and Silver didn't make it easier as he often became way too quick

So Ben asked the others for help, like Glitchy and Blue, who explained and sometimes translated a lot

He very quickly realized it may not be as easy for him as he first liked to believe, even though he gestured a lot already

But despite that, he kept being stubborn and tried, even if he wasn't sure why

No matter the situation, Ben has many complex feelings and trust issues-

Ben became very frustrated often as he didn't even have the full alphabet down yet

'Come on, man, you can remember an entire secret language for your texts, binary code and any type of cheat codes, but you can't memorize just some hand gestures for your friend?'

He would hang out more with Silver than before once he had some basics down, but still not enough for him to talk back often, just kinda understand most of what Silver “said”

Silver of course made his own special sign names for all his friends, but he didn't have one for Ben for the longest time, which troubled Ben a little, but he refused to show

He even wondered if Silver got fed up with him not learning and just like he expected was about to throw him away like every “real friend” before did

Turns out that since Ben is very important to him, Silver was thinking about a very good one just for him, and once he found it immediately showed him, leaving Ben very touched

I will not say what Ben's sign name is, because I'm gonna leave some things up to imagination... and also because I actually couldn't think a good one up myself-

Silver also became way slower while signing for better understanding, even if his excitement can get intense often still

And they like the beginning sometimes used their own ways of communicating between them, like Ben using his fire powers to create like figures for stories or something, but had to often stop, as it is still fire, don't wanna burn anyone or anything

One day as Ben and Silver like usual hung out, Ben was probably playing or so and trying to hide his “ugly laugh” from something, as Silver gained his attention, to sign to him that he likes his laugh, before suddenly becoming a bit flustered and showing a sign Ben has never seen before

Silver tried again, but at no response gave up and left, Ben confused and worried he fucked up as always

So he once again goes to Glitchy and the other Pokepastas for help, trying his best to imitate and immediately gaining a slight uproar, as the others either cheered or got defensive over Silver

Cue Ben becoming a blushing mess as they finally explain that that sign Silver used meant “I love you”

And Ben quickly met up, apologized and once again tried to sign the same as an answer

(I know I just spoiled it all, but I wanna maybe write a drabble about this scene later also, unless someone else wants to do one themselves about any of them-)

  Idk why this took so long for me, as I was drawing a blank. Especially because I used to spend a lot of time with people with hearing disorders and kinda have one myself-

But I hope this was to your liking <3

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Four: The One With the Wine

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2629

    "I'm telling you! I was standing right there, he could not take his eyes off of you! Buddy was one hundred percent into you." Gen laughed while tossing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of cherry wine.

Lily crossed her legs, shaking her head, tucking her hands into the oversized grey sweater she wore. Never in her life would she believe someone could be so taken with her. Especially someone who looked like Bucky. He was more than just a man, he was a whole different kind of breed. From the story, his eyes were able to tell. Or how his mannerisms gave away the constant anxiety coursing through him. Everything about Bucky told a story. The scruff that outlined his jaw, the perfect cut of his hair. He was the type of man Lily dreamed of, that most girls dreamed of. Rugged, mysterious, brooding. But his voice, soft, yet deep and gravelly. Perfection, in the eyes of Lily. And yet, she didn't know anything about him.

"You're delusional. we had a two-minute conversation where I spoke two words, maybe," Lily chuckled while pulling her sweatpant-covered knee to her chest, "There's no way in hell he was looking at me how you claim. It's just...nope. Impossible."

A groan escaped Gen's lips as Lily watched her throw her head back and lean against the arm of the couch, "Would you stop with your self-deprivation? Lily, you are beautiful! You have a beautiful son, a beautiful home, a too-good-to-be-true dog, and look like you should be a model," Gen chuckled, sipping her wine, "I never understood your ability to be insecure."

Lily answered with a gentle shrug. It was in her DNA, she supposed. She's always been insecure and down on herself. Her parents booked her in for counselling because just like her son, she too faced development issues. She never spoke, kept to herself. She'd busy her hands and mind with drawing, reading, and writing. It was later discovered her IQ was off the charts for her age. Eventually, she began to talk again, but she never believed herself to be pretty, or have an overall appealing personality.

It's what kind of made Gen and her work as a friendship. Gen was confident and carefree, living her best life and just taking it every day at a time. She never fretted about the future or focused on the past. And on the other hand, Lily was neurotic. Insecure. Living in the past, especially the years of emotional trauma from her ex-husband. She planned the future and tried to always ensure what would happen. The yin and yang of newcomers high school in long island. No one understood their friendship, or how it managed to stay alive. But it did, and it saved Lily from venturing into dark areas of her mind multiple times.

"We should text him!" Gen squealed while grabbing Lily's phone off the table

"You're funny. I don't even have his number, doe doe." Lily grinned, leaning back against a pillow as she watched Gen try to think of a retort.

"Noo, but Sam Wilson gave you his. Maybe, just maybe, he could give you Mr. Barnes’s number." Gen winked while typing in the blonde's password, pulling up the contact that lily had created for the falcon.

Rolling her forest green eyes, Lily pulled herself off the couch and towards the kitchen next to it. She poured herself another glass of wine before pulling out the blueberry pancakes she had grabbed earlier, watching as Gen's fingers typed feverishly on the iPhone 11 that Lily gratefully owned. Shaking her head, the blonde put the pancakes onto a plate and stuck them in the microwave for a minute. She could hear the clicking of Gen's fingers against the phone screen and a small chuckle escaped the girl’s plush lips.

"What're you doing? Typing him a whole novel?" Lily called, turning down the volume on the Amazon Echo that currently played nineties tunes.

"No, he's just fast at answering. Aaaand...I got the number!" Gen squealed and hopped off the couch towards the kitchen where Lily stood, "What should his name be? Hunky Bucky? Mr. Barnes?"

Rolling her eyes, Lily pulled the plate out of the microwave, taking the margarine out of the fridge, along with a knife and fork from the drawer beside the fridge. Whatever Gen was planning, Lily knew she wouldn't be able to talk her out of it. Whenever her best friend conjured a plan or set her mind to something, she had zero chance of getting in the way. Gen reached new levels of stubbornness when it came to these sorts of things. Especially Lily's love life. Gen has set her up on dates and different escapades...but Lily never took to any of the men. She never felt as though she could see it going anywhere.

"How about just Bucky? You could even add Barnes if it makes you happy," Lily sighed, a piece of blueberry pancake wedged into the side of her mouth. Leaning on her elbow, Lily cupped her chin in her hands, sipping her alcohol, watching as Gen continued to type, "What the hell are you typing?" Lily laughed, cutting up a few more pieces.

Gen merely replied with a simple shrug, "He thinks he's texting you. Bucky won't send you a text. But I said that you would not be making the first move."

"There are no moves being made!" Lily snapped and stole her phone back from Gen's grip, glancing at her messages, "I'm not looking for a relationship. I don't want one. I have all I need. Like you said, a beautiful son, a lovely home. great friends. A relationship would only create dysfunction and chaos."

A wave of silence rolled across the two. gen stared at the blonde in front of her, who was gripping the fork in her hands so tightly, her knuckles turned a sickly shade of white, with a tinge of green. A sigh escaped her lips as Lily dropped the fork back down onto the counter, running a hand down her face. Her green eyes avoided the stare that Gen was sending her way, a knowing look. One that let Lily know that she knew exactly what was going on inside of the blonde’s head, even when Lily herself didn't know. A strange ability Gen seemed to have, knowing what was repressed deep inside of Lily's subconscious.

"Lily-"

"Just drop it gen!" the young mom exclaimed while lifting her hands with clenched fists, "Please just drop it..."

"Okay...okay I'll drop it," Gen sighed, filling her glass once more with wine, "but Sam did mention you coming by? With Hunter? What was that about?" she wondered, crossing her legs as she took her seat on a stool at the counter.

Dropping her now empty plate into the sink, a small laugh escaped Lily's lips, "Sam offered to give Hunt a trip around the compound. Give him a tour of everything, meet everyone. Might ask Scott to grab him a bit early tomorrow and take him by."

Gen nodded. and the rest of the night went on like that. A bit quieter than before, due to the fact Lily's mind was still reeling from the small outburst earlier. They sipped their wine, finishing the two bottles. They both fell asleep in Lily's bed, both drunk and sprawled out. It was picturesque really. The two of them. An iconic duo to say the least.

-----

The next morning, a bright beam of light streamed through the sheer curtains of Lily's bedroom. Joey snoring gently beside her, his soft fur tickling her forearm. Sucking in a quick breath, the blonde reached her arm up to rub her eyes, before pulling herself up from her laying down position. She glanced around, noticing how Gen was nowhere in sight. Furrowing her brows, Lily turned to pick up her phone, noticing a text from her.

GEN

had to go to the cafe. spoke to Scott for you, you're picking hunt up at 1. love ya

Lily's eyes glanced at the time on her phone, 11:30. she had an hour and a half. Throwing her duvet off of her legs, startling Joey, she stood up. Her head pounded and she glanced to her right, noticing the empty wine glass from the night before. Chuckling gently, she picked it up and headed down the stairs towards her kitchen. Having nights alone with Gen typically helped Lily relax, make her calm those nerves that were constantly in a loop of anxiety and fear. But the slight argument they had the night before kept replaying in her head. She got so angry. As if finally, after all of these years, all of the trauma she faced in the name of love was coming to a head. That the heart Scott broke had yet to heal properly. Four years later, Lily still believed herself to be unlovable. Incapable of finding someone. Her deep subconscious believing that she had her one chance at love, and blew it.

A warm petal slid down the blonde’s cheekbone. Her bottom lip quivering. In an attempt to stop the shaking of the plush muscle, Lily bit down. Her breathing became shaky, her hands gripping onto the cool countertop so intensely that it mirrored the same shade as the night before. Gasps escaped her lips as she fumbled for a cup, leaning against the counters for support as she wandered over to the sink. Flipping on the silver faucet, the clear liquid ran into the cup. The moment she deemed enough, Lily chugged back the water. Her eyes relaxed and her breath steadied back to a regular pace.

When Lily finally regained the composure she needed to continue with her day, the blonde stood up straight. Glancing around the empty home, Lily's head dipped down so her chin gently rested on her collarbone. Pursing her lips once again, Lily sucked in the air around her through her nose. She dropped the cup into the sink and gave her body a shake, letting all of those feelings that just bubbled to the surface return to their rightful place deep within her. Where she didn't have to deal with them, and the people around her wouldn't see them. It was her way of hiding what she was truly feeling. and that's exactly what she wanted. To hide those fears, those doubts. everything.

She had to be strong, had to keep that facade up to maintain composure. She couldn't let Hunter see just how broken his mother was. Even though he may already know...she had to play ignorant just in case.

After scarfing down a croissant, Lily jogged up the stairs (much to her head’s dismay). Her start to the day was already hectic, and typically, that meant an extreme day ahead of her. Lily wasn't sure if she was all too prepared to handle that, especially after her little moment just moments ago. But she couldn't allow that small anxiety moment to consume her mind again, and destroy the rest of her day. She had sent a quick text to Sam, confirming the tour before placing her phone against the mahogany dresser she and Hunter had painted white. The dark green of her iris found itself staring back at herself in the mirror that was hung too carefully above the previously mentioned dresser.

She looked rough. Mascara smudged below her waterline, hair sticking out in three different directions. Her eyes were puffy and her lips were swollen, with a gentle tinge of scarlet displayed on the tip of her nose. Her chest heaved up and down, her neck expanding and retracting as her breathing continued to follow the path of relaxation. Almost instantly, she averted her eyes. No one wanted to look at a broken shell of a woman for too long, which became depressing. Especially when the said woman was nursing an existential hangover from two bottles of wine split with a person that could drink Captain Morgan under a table.

She pushed open the door to her closet and sighed. Maybe she did need a new wardrobe. She had been wearing the same dresses and shirts for years. She never had time to go shopping, or, when she did, she chose not to. Because shopping meant trying clothing on, which meant looking at her own body. The stretch marks across her hips, and the few that littered her stomach along with her belly button. Of course, these were caused naturally when she was pregnant, and because she’s grown from a baby. Regardless of how they came to be, Lily couldn't help but feel worse about herself with them. The pale pink shade they showed against her fair tone, making them prominent. That's why she never went shopping. Shame.

Lily changed into a cream-coloured lace spring dress with spaghetti straps and a brown leather braided belt, slipping a red cardigan over top due to the fact it was September, and there was a new cool breeze alongside the muggy heat. Her feet stepped into a pair of black flats before trudging to the bathroom. Checking the time, it read noon. She let out a sigh and picked up her can of dry shampoo, shaking the cool metal canister, causing a gentle noise to escape. Her morning routine was basic, but today she added the fact of cleaning the oiled up and overused makeup that stayed on her face from the night before. When she was done, she let out a sigh and quickly turned from the mirror, not looking at it once again. She fed Joey quickly, kissed him, then headed out.

time to pick up the boy that kept her going.

-----

Scott lived in Brooklyn, New York. He lived with the mistress that broke the horses back of their marriage and the daughter that was created out of it. Bitter wasn't the word she would use to describe how she felt towards the entire situation. Resentment, denial, those were better. The affair only made Lily more sure of her lack of worth. Not to mention how it broke all trust she had in the male sex or anyone that she dated. She hadn't had a relationship since Scott and hadn't even been physical with someone. A goodnight kiss, sure, but that's where it ended. Nothing more. She couldn't do it. And she one hundred percent blamed the father of her son.

Him and his new wife, Mary, aka the mistress, bunked in a two-story apartment near the edge of the area. It was a quiet area, but more urban and modern than the cozy and domestic vibe of Lily's area. That was a source of many arguments between the two as well. Scott preferred the non-stop of the city, while Lily preferred the privacy of the more so suburban areas of the city of New York. But now, the two were able to agree. She lived in a rural area, and he lived in the city. Was it a bit of a venture when it came to sharing custody of their child? Sure, but being divorced, the two didn't have a say in where the other lived.

Pulling into the driveway of her ex-husband’s apartment building, Lily turned off her car and pushed open the door. The heat hit her like a wave before the cool air broke down the wall the mugginess had created. Pressing the button to be buzzed in, the blonde rocked back and forth on her heels. When she heard the door unlock, she pushed through. After a few moments and one elevator trip, she reached the door of the apartment. Her fragile hand knocked, and seconds later, it busted open.

"Hey, Scott.”

[bwemph]

The Measure of Things | Chapter 1 | The Arrival

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: For living in hiding, you can’t complain about your life on Rabadus, a nowhere planet on the Outer Rim. You’ve got a roof over your head, a decent job, and the man you love all in one place. But one day the Mandalorian, an old flame, shows up out of the blue, leaving you questioning if this is really the life for you.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Light swearing, toxic relationship, nonconsensual touch, making out on the job

You checked your watch, anxiety piling up in your chest as you scrambled through the shipyard. There was no way you were going to make it to work on time this morning. You jogged a little, stumbling on a scattered pile of miscellaneous ship parts on the outskirts of the shipyard.

You cursed under your breath as you fumbled through your pockets in search of your ID.

Already flustered from the shootout downtown, being late to work was only one more thing weighing on your shoulders.

Two Nedhads, a race of orange humanoids who were quite crabby in looks and in personality, got into a scuffle and decided to see who was better with a blaster, ultimately resulting in a duel between the crustacean-like creatures. Somehow, seven others got caught up in the chaos and raised all hell in the town square.

To avoid getting yourself shot, you took a detour to the quieter edge of town and found yourself now fifteen minutes late for work.

You stifled a yawn as you pressed the buzzer at the door of the hangar. You got no response your first two or three tries, but finally, on the fourth, a befuddled droid poked a long eyestalk out of a hole next to the door.

Damn, I need to fix that thing again, you thought.

You showed the droid your ID, and there was a few seconds’ hesitation before the door unlocked.

The sleepless night previous was like a ball and chain on your ankle, making you drag your feet and rub your eyes. Any minute now, you would get your second wind.

That’s what you hoped anyway. 

You strode across the empty ship bay with a sigh and went to the small control room, which was dark.

Flipping on the light switch, you settled at the panel and opened your communication channels. It was just static right now. No voices called across the channels for your attention, so you slouched in your chair and kicked your feet up onto the panel for a few moments of peace.

Next to you, a small metal ball with a shabby two-shade paint job whirred to life. It split in half, the two hemispheres separating, but remaining connected by the mechanics inside. It focused its single eye and spun a few more times, chirping excitedly when it saw you sitting at the control panel. If it had a mouth, it would have grinned.

“Hey, buddy!” You crouched on the floor to greet the hovering red droid. You gave it a pat.

You considered HE-27 to be your favorite coworker. It was always excited to see you, and it was far more efficient with its small, precise claws than any human’s hands when it came to repairing machinery, making it a valuable tool and amiable companion.

It buzzed off to attend to some task, and you settled again at the panel, watching the radar for any incoming ships.

You found yourself relieved that your boss, Carduel Stantin, wasn’t on site yet, and likely hadn’t noticed your tardy arrival. The wrinkled, red-faced man was anything but forgiving when it came to punctuality. He didn’t shy away from long-winded lectures, if they could even be called lectures. Sometimes his words were unintelligible when he got onto his half-shouted monologues, telling off whichever unlucky employee was getting the brunt of his unrelenting anger issues.

Again, you looked to the radar. Still no sign of a ship in need of landing.

Unusual, but not concerning.

Your job was to monitor the radar for incoming ships and perform maintenance on them as needed, which was almost any time a ship needed to land in your bay. Oftentimes ships would be damaged upon reentry into your planet Rabadus’s atmosphere, given the constant and unpredictable meteor field that loomed above the clouds. If the sky was clear, the screen of space rocks could clearly be seen from the ground.

The Field made for consistent work on the cargo ships, though. If you weren't in the rotation to be watching comms, you would have plenty of bent panels and damaged engines to fix in other ship bays. You much preferred working on the ships over waiting for one to show up, but you would always tell yourself good things come to those who wait.

“Knock knock,” a familiar velvety voice said, snapping you from your thoughts.

You looked up to see the one and only Max Melau leaning in the doorway with his signature lopsided smile and mussed golden hair.

You stood. “Hey.”

“Hey, cutie.” He crossed the small control room and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to brush his lips against yours.

You squirmed away after a short moment, laughing a little. “C’mon, you know what I said before. Not on the job, please.” You pecked a kiss to his cheek and turned back to the panel. You checked the readings on the radar.

“I know, I know. I just can’t help myself sometimes.” He followed you over to the panel. “Not when you’ve got this cute little ass right here.” He gave your backside a quick squeeze. 

“Max, please.” Another small laugh squeezed from your throat as you settled on the torn up seat. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You don’t expect me to just keep my hands off you all day, do you?” He followed your line of sight to the blank radar. “Can’t a guy just appreciate his girl every once in a while?”

“You can appreciate me on your own time.”

He recoiled at that, then he grew very silent.

You didn’t worry about it at first, but he continued hovering around you, but avoided eye contact. He knew you hated that.

You turned to him, softening a little bit. You stood and cupped his cheek. “Hey.” You kissed his nose. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a crazy morning.”

He didn’t answer.

“Can I make it up to you?” you pressed, eyebrows knitting together with concern. You felt that same nervousness from earlier creeping back up into your chest, then your throat, and abruptly falling deep into the pit of your stomach.

He lifted your chin with a finger. “I think so,” he said finally, his voice low and husky as he eyed you intensely.

You cast another glance at the radar, but Max turned your head so he filled your field of vision. Your eyes fell shut as he pressed his lips to yours and ran his hands down your body, resting them at the small of your back.

He pulled you close, holding you close to his chest.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on the control panel with your legs wrapped around his waist.

His hands roamed your body, groping at your chest and hindquarters. You reasoned with yourself to let him get it out of his system so you could both focus on your work.

Steadily, his kisses grew hungrier and sloppier and rougher. You could hardly keep up with him as he clawed at your waist and forced his tongue between your lips.

“Wait.” You pulled away to catch your breath.

“What?” Max said.

You delicately brushed a few hairs away from his eyes. “I would just hate for Stantin to see us like this,” you said, breathing a laugh.

“Ah, let him. What’s he gonna do?”

You couldn’t answer before your mouth was smothered with his lips again. He moved on to your neck, planting several kisses, and sucking long enough that you wondered if he might be leaving behind a trail of bruises.

Knowing Max, he probably was.

You tilted your head back, letting yourself succumb to the sensation of his lips on your neck.

A soft beeping caught your attention. “Wait,” you said again as you pushed him back.

You hopped down from the dashboard and looked at the radar. A ship appeared from the corner of the screen, approaching rapidly.

“All this waiting!” he quipped. “I’m an impatient man, y/n.”

“Rabadus base, do you read me?” a voice spoke urgently over the comms.

You were quick to answer, “Rabadus Base. We hear you loud and clear.”

“I’m going to need to make an emergency landing. Ah!” The transmission cut off partway through the pilot swearing in some tongue that was foreign to you.

“We can take you here in bay two as soon as you’re ready.”

“Copy that.”

Before the pilot’s voice cut out, you heard much rattling and ruckus from the other side of the comms, making you wonder just how much of an emergency this was.

Something in the pilot’s voice was familiar, but you couldn’t entirely make it out between the rattling on his end, the static over the radio, and whatever was muffling his voice. 

You looked to Max before a sputtering engine buzzed into the bay.

Through the window, you saw a large silver ship, once glorious and shiny, was now sparking from its rudders as it landed in the hangar and powered off.

You recognized this ship, too. Not that that meant anything; gunships like that were mass produced back in the day.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder.

Pushing the thought aside, you stepped out into the bay with max trailing you as the hatch began to lower. Out stepped a Mandalorian.

You weren't sure if it was his walk, or simply just the air he brought with him, but it would be one hell of a coincidence if that weren’t the Mandalorian that you knew.

Something over the hatch spat sparks, which bounced harmlessly off his silver helmet.

“Mando!” you greeted, beaming.

He paused and took in the sight of you and Max before him. “Y/n?”

“You two know each other?” Max interjected.

You laughed, reaching out to firmly shake the Mandalorian’s hand. “We’ve crossed paths a few times,” you said, sharing a knowing glance with him.

“What are you doing here?” Mando asked, looking between you and Max.

You shrugged. “Fate, I guess.”

“It would seem so,” the Mandalorian replied. 

“It’s good to see you again, Mando.”

“Likewise.” He offered a nod and a soft laugh that just barely crackled through his vocoder.

You tugged on Max’s hand, bringing him forward a step or two. “This is my coworker Max.”

Max held his silence, seemingly mimicking your old friend’s stillness. He nodded once to the Mandalorian and kept a stone cold eye on him.

“Coworker, huh?” Mando said.

You couldn’t tell for certain if he was looking, but you remembered the darkening blotches on your neck and suddenly became very conscious of them. You pulled your open vest around yourself in hopes that the collar might cover the hickeys up.

“Well, something like that.” You cleared your throat and excused yourself to inspect the ship. “Let’s have a look at what’s going on here.”

You should have known it was Mando’s ride from the get go. The familiar stripes painted on the side would have been the first clue. They were far more chipped than the last time you had seen them. There was a small dent by the right engine that he never seemed to fix, regardless of how often you pointed it out.

The ship had certainly seen better days, and needed a lot of work from what you could tell by just looking, but you still felt the same sentimental attachment to it from the day you and Mando crossed paths for the first time.

Upon closer inspection, it was evident he had been in some kind of shootout.

“The fuel tank is leaking,” the Mandalorian said as you made note of the smaller things that needed fixing. “One of the engines blew out, too.”

You looked at him, your reflection peering back at you from his visor. “Wow, I’m surprised you even landed. Anything else?”

“I’m not sure.”

You pulled a tool from your belt and scanned the ship for any obscure heat signatures. Judging by the readings, you would have a few things to fix on the underside, too. “Well, I’ll get to work on it and let you know.” You hooked the tool back on your belt and gave a small smile to your old friend.

“Thank you.”

You couldn’t help but notice Max still hovering nearby. “Love, if Stantin catches you in here making eyes at me again we’ll both be in trouble.” You laughed softly, reaching out and caressing his cheek.

Max nodded and spoke as though he were holding his breath. “You’re right. I’ll see you later, y/n.”

“Love you,” you called after him.

No reply.

****

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into plenty of trouble without me,” you said as you changed out a few screws and other miscellaneous parts that you could manage without doing too much digging through the yard for replacement parts. You glanced from behind an open panel. “You’re shinier than last we met. Been successful lately?”

Mando replied, “I earned a handful of Beskar on a job.” He also worked on mending some wiring while he spoke.

You considered prodding him for more information, but you knew he was never one to discuss his work in depth.

“This is a lot of damage,” you said, gesturing to the Crest, “but it’s not like it’s anything someone on Nevarro couldn’t fix, right? What brings you here?”

He sighed. “Work,” was all he said. Something about it seemed a little strained. “What about you? How did you end up on this side of the galaxy? Last I heard you were on Alderaan doing business with some of the higher ups.”

“Well, the higher ups didn’t exactly appreciate my affiliation with the Guild,” you explained.

“But you left the Guild.”

You shrugged, moving on to see if you could close up whatever piping was emitting a sour smell. Now you were a little closer to him. “Didn’t make a difference to them. I was still a liability,” you closed the panel, leaning against the ship and facing him, “so I ran. Took one of their fastest ships and came out here. I knew they wouldn’t follow me this far out to a speck of dirt in the Outer Rim.”

The Mandalorian nodded once and took a moment to consider that, turning his attention back to the wiring that sparked a bit as he fiddled with it. “And where does Max fit into all this?”

You couldn’t quite read the tone of his voice. Had it really been so long that you couldn’t read his subtle signals anymore? Or was he just trying to fluster you? You pushed the thought aside and squirmed a little, letting out a long sigh as you busied yourself tinkering with a few loose screws. “We met here on the job. He’s really sweet once he warms up to you.”

“Something tells me he might not do that for me.”

“Just give him some time. I’m sure he’ll loosen up.”

You glanced at the sun starting to sink below the horizon, swallowing hard. “My shift’s about to end. I wouldn’t recommend sleeping in there tonight with the fuel leak.” You gestured vaguely. “Fumes, you know.”

He looked up at the ship and then back to you. “That’s alright. I’ll find an inn in town. Any recommendations?”

You inhaled slowly, fidgeting with your fingers a little. “Well,” you shrugged one shoulder, “I have an open couch you could stay on if you would like. Much cheaper and fewer bugs than any of the inns in town.”

“Cheaper? What’ll it cost me?” Mando asked. You sensed a playful edge to his tone.

A coy smile worked its way onto your features. “A drink?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

Your grin grew. “Great. I just have to run in and shut off a few things, and then we can head to my place so you can get settled in.”

Mando closed his panel. “I’ve got to get something from the Crest before we go.”

“Take your time. I’ll need a minute anyway.” You half jogged back to the control room to turn off the lights and comms and bid HE-27 goodnight.

The droid was waiting on your seat at the panel, keeping watch on the radar for you.

You affectionately touched its little red dome. “I’m headed home, H. See you tomorrow.”

It beeped a response, spinning its bottom hemisphere as a farewell.

You heard footsteps approaching and then the door open. You looked up and met Max’s stony eyes.

“Coworker?” he said, again lingering in the door. “What kind of bullshit is that?”

You closed your eyes to gather yourself before turning to face him. “I was just being professional, Max. Please don’t read too much into it.”

Max sighed, waving away the matter. “Still talking to that tin can?” he goaded, nodding to the droid. “Speaking of tin cans, where’s the Mandalorian?”

HE-27 hummed quietly, unsure if it should be hurt by Max’s words.

“Don’t listen to him, H. Max is just kidding.” you ran your fingers over the droid’s chipping paint again and looked back to Max. “He’s in the Crest.”

Max crossed the room and his hands went around your waist again, pulling your body close to him and swaying slowly. “Well, what do you say you and me split and get something for dinner? Maybe a drink too, then we can go back to my place for a little while?”

“Actually...” Your heart jumped to your throat momentarily. You hadn’t considered what he would think of you going out with Mando, much less what Max would think of him crashing at your place indefinitely. “I told Mando he could stay on my couch until the ship is fixed, so I need to get home to get him settled.”

“You told him what?”

“Max, if he spends too long on that ship the fumes will kill him.”

“Then make him stay in town! It’s not like he won’t be able to find anywhere to stay.”

“What’s your problem?” You pushed Max’s hands off your waist and took a step back. “He’s my friend. My home is always open to my friends, and you know that.”

“But--” he searched for an answer, “but he’s a Mandalorian, and you know they’re dangerous.”

“Babe, he’s a friend from the Guild. We’re all dangerous.”

Max’s lips pressed together so they made a straight line. You could see his jaw clenching.

You ran a hand up and down his muscular arm. “Please, trust me.”

When he didn’t answer, you followed Max’s gaze out the window to the Mandalorian exiting the ship followed by a small silver pram. Something was sleeping in it, wrapped up in a handful of brown pieces of cloth.

You furrowed your brow at the sight, but turned your attention back to the matter at hand.

“Fine,” was all Max said before turning and striding from the room. The door slammed behind him, leaving you alone with your eyes downcast.

Despite the unsavory interaction, you gathered yourself, drying a few rogue tears before you went back out to the hangar to investigate what the Mandalorian could possibly be doing with a pram.

*****

A/N: I’m excited for how this is coming together! This is the first fic in a while that I’ve been legitimately excited to write. I’ll take any feedback you have! Love you guys <3

[mst3kproject]

Teenage Wolfpack

This is, unfortunately, not a werewolf movie.

That’s it.  That’s why I’m reviewing it.  The title suggested a werewolf movie, the film itself would have been way more fun if it were a werewolf movie, it wasn’t, and now I’m annoyed.  I felt the same way about The Wolf of Wall Street but that one is way too upscale for this blog.

After opening credits set to some very catchy and extremely inappropriate swing music, we meet brothers Freddie and John Morgan.  Freddie, in his early twenties, was driven out of the house by their asshole father and now commits crime and dates underage girls.  John, age eighteen, still lives at home but is getting increasingly frustrated, especially when Mr. Morgan mistreats his wife.  In search of money to help his mother, Johnny gets drawn into Freddie’s web of crime.  Things start going south when the gang rob the wrong postal truck, ending up with mail instead of money, but Freddie’s girlfriend finds something in one of the stolen letters that makes him think maybe, just maybe, he can make crime pay after all.

On the surface at least, Teenage Wolfpack is a pretty serviceable movie.  The dialogue mostly makes sense and you can usually tell what’s going on.  There are times when it sets things up and pays them off pretty efficiently, but at nearly eighty minutes long, there is also a lot of time spent dithering around accomplishing nothing.  The opening, for example, where we are introduced to Freddie and his buddies as they show off their pasty German bellies at a swimming pool. They sexually harass random women, beat up the staff, and annoy their girlfriends.  This bit is far too long and ultimately does very little for the story.  Later we’re treated to a lengthy dance number, a weird sequence with a boy who admires Freddie throwing away his jacket, and a kidnapped dog, which are similarly useless.

The dog especially.  It’s a little wiener dog and it’s very cute, but it never does anything except hang out and be cuddled.  I kept expecting it to either get killed or for it to somehow be instrumental in the plot but it’s just a random dog and when things are supposed to be getting intense it vanishes from the story.  It also never barks once, which makes me wonder if the movie crew sedated it before filming.  My neighbours have two dachshunds and those little bastards never shut up, ever.

Outside of that, the story makes a reasonable amount of sense.  There are bits in which you’re not sure what people are actually talking about, but most of those end up not really mattering.  The final plot point, about the money at the bar, is not very clear at all – characters talk about what they found in the letter but we never get any details, or even see the text they’re reading (possibly this was simply cut from the English dub), so we only have the vaguest idea what they’re looking for.  Worse for this ending, and the thing that pretty much kills the whole film, is that it is entirely lacking in tension.  The guys are sneaking into the bar owner’s house to rob him while John, who has had enough of this, races to try to stop them. There’s a four-way standoff between Freddie, John, Freddie’s girlfriend Cissy, and the bar owner, in which the latter two are shot, but somehow the movie manages to make this downright boring.

I think a part of the problem may be that the stakes here are much lower than the earlier robbery of the postal truck, which involved fistfights and sneaking by the police (does anybody happen to know when ambulances were invented?  Because there’s a scene in this movie where a policeman flags down a random passer-by to ask them to take an accident victim to the hospital).  Here they’re just sneaking around a house and their only foe, besides each other, is a man with a heart condition.  I guess we’re supposed to be worried for the bar owner, but he’s not really a character, just an Italian stereotype even broader and more offensive than that skit from Devil Fish.

The other issue is that we’re not really sure what this movie wants to be.  Of course it’s a morality play, teaching us that criminals can never win, but it kind of wanders around that point in circles rather than attacking it from any particular angle that might unify the story.  There are repeated hints that John is going to end up taking the blame for Freddie’s shenanigans, but the story never follows through on that. Cissy plays it sweet for most of the movie but turns out to be the very worst of this nasty lot, lying and trying to turn the brothers against each other… that was kind of a fun twist, but it’s not at all necessary to the plot.  At the end, Freddie and John’s father turns up to identify these two criminals as his sons, but then the movie’s over, without any attempt at exploring what this means for the family.  Mr. Morgan is clearly upset to see them getting arrested, but whether he will reconcile with Freddie or just disown John along with him, we never find out.

Cissy, by the way, is supposed to be fifteen. We never find out how old Freddie is exactly, but he’s at least a couple of years older than eighteen-year-old John. That’s a little questionable, but what’s even more questionable is the camera’s loving attention to her ass, especially when actress Karin Baal was only sixteen when she was in this movie.

The thing MST3K would have surely had the most fun with is the characters, which are very flat.  John is a Wholesome Young Man who does things like remind his brother, who has just stolen a car right in front of him, to obey the speed limit. Mike, Tom, and Crow would have added their own dialogue to characterize him as a hopeless sniveling Mama’s Boy and it wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration.  He’s supposed to be conflicted once the actual crime begins but instead he just comes across as a fool, willfully ignoring what Freddie’s really up to in the attempt to feel better about his own part in it.

Like a number of characters in MST3K movies about young criminals, the movie balks at actually allowing John to commit a crime. He does hit a guy over the head with a gun, but the guy volunteered for it in exchange for some money from Freddie! While Freddie’s gang beat people up and rob the mail truck, John is merely distracting a night watchman by giving him a letter to mail.  It’s never very clear how much John knows about the whole plan.  He went to Freddie because he knows he needs more money than he can get through legitimate means.  He has seen them steal a car and when he’s sent to ‘borrow’ one he must know that the original owner probably isn’t getting it back, even if he’s able to secure it without any violence.  Yet in the face of all this, he does his level best to remain oblivious.

Freddie seems at once eager to have John as a partner and yet reluctant to actually bring him into the fold.  In T-Bird Gang the bad guys had Frank commit an actual crime as a test, to make sure he was up to it and to secure his loyalty.  Maybe it’s because John is family that Freddie doesn’t seem to feel a need to do this… maybe the ‘hit a guy’ thing was the test, but it didn’t feel like that.  Freddie can’t seem to decide whether he wants to trust John or protect him, which is another thing that movie could have used as a focus for this story, but doesn’t. It never really tries to get into Freddie’s head at all, which is a shame.

I guess the reason these movies don’t want their ‘hero’ characters to commit crimes is because they want them to seem redeemable.  The problem with this is that for a character to be redeemed, you need something to redeem them from.  A person can’t pick themselves up if they’ve never actually fallen.  Then again, I’m not sure this movie is about redemption.  Freddie certainly never redeems himself.  Cissy looks for a while like maybe she wants to get together with John and try a life of things other than crime, but doesn’t.  And John is only barely a criminal – we don’t even hang around long enough to find out whether his father’s going to think he is, or whether he’s going to take the blame for the stolen car.

Like so many other of these movies, the only goal Teenage Wolfpack seems to have is to make the audience feel crummy.  The moral lessons are barely a sketch and deeply unsatisfying.  The title seems to suggest an exploitation film but the bad behaviour it showcases isn’t any fun to watch.  The most interesting conflict the story sets up is between John, Freddie, and their father, but that is barely explored and certainly isn’t done justice.  The film-makers seem to have been competent but the script gave them nothing to work with.

This really should have been a werewolf movie.  Freddie’s been thrown out of the family for being a criminal, but when John goes to him looking for money, he discovers instead the terrible truth about the recent slew of animal attacks!  John still loves his brother but Freddie’s pack of slavering werewolves are a danger to everybody in town… can he bring himself to break out the silver bullets, knowing that he’ll be labeled a fratricide?  Can he protect the Italian bar owner, or even his own parents from werewolfish bloodlust?  That would have been an amazing movie.

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

Guardian Angel

Summary: It'll only be minutes until Dean's time on earth's gonna run out. Until the hellhound will walk around the corner and drag him with it into the pit of pain and despair. Until the demons and monsters will claim his soul. 

But just as he is about to face his end all of a sudden something unexpected happens and Dean starts to wonder if he's seriously worth to be saved after all.

Word Count: 1676

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst, First Meeting, 3x16 divergent

[Written for the @writersofdestiel‘s “The Day They First Met” Prompt Week]

It's merely minutes now.

They had hope, just a little bit, but now Lilith is out of reach and Dean hears the hellhound coming closer and closer. The air in his chest tightens, making breathing impossibly hard as he stares at the doorway.

He knows the creature will show up there any second now.

To take him to hell.

Mercilessly.

Dean never regretted saving Sam's life. He just can't, no matter what. But as he's facing his end now he's unable to feel a lot of things, emotions overpowering him with such strength his knees start to buckle.

He doesn't want to die. There are so many things he actually intended to do. Awesome, amazing, wonderful things he always thought he had enough time to experience at some point.

Fuck, he's never even been in love before. Not really, at least.

And now he will never know what that feels like.

Dean glances to the side, for the last time looking at the person most important to him. Sam is breathing hard as he stares at his brother with despair, tears welling up in his eyes. It's clear that he tries to control himself, not to sob and break down here and now. But it seems he has finally accepted that there is no way out of this.

Dean would die tonight. In a few minutes.

And they could do jackshit now to stop it.

Dean opens his mouth, determined to leave Sam with some last reassuring words, but in the end no sound leaves his throat. He's incapable of forming any coherent sentence at this point, he's sure of that. Besides, there is absolutely nothing in the vast vocabulary that would ease Sam's mind in any way right now.

Dean knows because he would totally feel the same if their roles were reversed.

So Dean settles on just looking at his tall little brother and shooting him one last smirk.

It's all he can do at this point.

Since just a moment later the hellhound walks around the corner.

It's an ugly thing. Broad and big and hairy and its eyes and fangs are enormous. Not to mention the claws. Sharp enough to rip even the strongest man apart in a matter of milliseconds.

The worst, however, is the smell. Ash and fire and decay.

Dean imagines that is what hell smells like.

He will find out for himself soon enough.

Dean takes a deep breath and braces himself. This won't be pretty and a big part of himself wishes Sam wouldn't be here to witness this. But another, small, selfish side of him finds itself relieved to have his brother by his side.

One last time.

Dean looks at the creature, looks it straight in the eyes, and yells Come on now! in his mind.

The hellhound prepares itself to attack. Bloodthirstiness shining in its gaze.

Thirst for Dean's blood.

And then, all of a sudden –

A shadow shows up right behind the creature. Dean blinks in surprise and just has enough time to notice a flapping coat before the hellhound starts to whine out of the blue.

It whines and screams and squirms and Dean takes a moment to notice the silver blade that's been rammed right into its neck. By the shadow in the dark.

Sam next to him gasps in surprise and bewilderment (and Dean is right with him on that front) and they both watch in shock as the hellhound collapses right there on the spot.

Motionless.

Dead.

Dean blinks.

What?

The?

Fuck?

For a long moment the room remains eerily quiet, nobody really sure what to do now. Dean at least has no freaking idea what is happening now.

He simply gaoes at the shadow who steps out of the darkness and reveals himself to be a man in a bulky trench coat. A man who looks absolutely normal. Close to harmless, actually. Tousled hair, a light scruff, ridiculously blue eyes.

He seems utterly wrong in this place.

And at the same time there is something about him. Something that takes Dean's breath away in a completely different way than the hellhound before him.

The man steps forward, appearing absolutely calm as he pulls his strange silver knife out of the dead creature. He seems like this is a totally ordinary day. As though he always runs around and kills some hellhounds before dinner time.

There are a thousand questions running through Dean's mind at this very moment. And in the end he grasps for one.

“Who are you?”

It's at least a legitimate question, right?

The man looks up, his gaze connecting with Dean's. And the hunter feels a shiver running down his spine as he has never experienced before. He's even on the verge of whimpering and thankfully just has enough self-control to suppress that urge right on time.

“My name is Castiel,” the man introduces himself.

His voice is impossibly deep and Dean has no clue what to do with this.

How are you supposed to handle such a situation?

Something like this certainly has never been part of Dad's training.

Dean stares at the man, keeps on staring and staring, and at one point realizes that this guy just can't be human. Maybe it's a residue from his year running out or perhaps it's just hunter instinct.

But he simply knows.

“What are you?” Dean clarifies his question in the end.

The man – Castiel – stays unperturbed as he responds, “I'm an angel of the Lord.”

Dean can't help a loud and very unattractive snort.

Yeah, right.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he mocks. “Now for real – what are you?”

Castiel's face doesn't display any emotions as suddenly the few lights in the room begin to flicker and a shadow of two huge wings shows up right behind him.

It's only for the blink of an eye, but it's more than enough to shake Dean to his very core.

DAMN.

Sam next to him doesn't seem far better off. His eyes as big as saucers, his skin going absolutely pale. Dean, at least, finds himself worried that he might pass out in the next moment and decides to focus on that for now because anything else is too much.

Way too much.

“You were meant to go to hell tonight, Dean Winchester,” the creature – the angel?? – tells him in a serious tone. “And it was foretold that this event would lead to the apocalypse.”

Dean's jaw goes slack.

Wait, what?

“Huh?” he says, dumbfounded.

“This has been in the making for centuries. Millennia. Since the dawn of time itself.” Castiel's gaze gets even more intense and Dean suddenly feels stripped naked faced with such scrutiny. “Hell and heaven, preparing for the final battle.”

Dean wonders if he's dreaming.

If this is just the strangest, most wacko dream he's had for quite a while.

Because this can't be true!

Right?

“But I and a small fraction of angels – we see things a bit differently than the rest.” Castiel's lips twitches. As though he's fighting an actual smile. “We believe it doesn't have to be this way. Humanity is our Father's greatest creation. We don't want to see them die in an ocean of fire.”

Dean shivers and feels the strength of his legs leaving him. It's just with monumental effort that he's able to remain upright for the time being.

“I … uh …” What do you reply to something like this?

Dean doesn't have the foggiest.

Castiel, meanwhile, walks up to him, suddenly so close they're almost chest to chest.

“Humanity deserves to be saved,” he states in that gravelly voice. “But above all, you deserve to be saved, Dean Winchester.”

He studies Dean like he's the most important thing in the world. Like he would fight all of heaven and hell in a heartbeat just to see the hunter safe and sound.

Dean swallows, licks his lips and feels his cheeks heat up as Castiel's gaze follows the movement of his tongue with a bone-chilling intensity.

Dean can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that.

He isn't actually sure if someone ever looked at him like that.

“You … you're kidding, right?” Dean scoffs and tries to come across as unimpressed as possible while he chides himself over and over to finally get his moves on and take a few steps back. Put some distance between them. Personal space and all that crap.

He remains unsuccessful.

Because his body refuses to be apart from Castiel, it seems.

“I assure you, I am not 'kidding' you,” Castiel says, phrasing that one word like it's a weird alien language he never heard before. “I am here to save your soul from damnation. You're a good and kind man and you don't deserve what has been put upon your shoulders.”

Dean blinks.

He wants to laugh. Right into the guy's face.

But Castiel sounds absolutely sincere, as if he means every single word, and Dean feels the mocking laughter get stuck in his throat.

Damn.

“You might not believe me,” Castiel continues. “But soon enough you will have no other choice. Neither hell nor heaven are going to be thrilled about this act of rebellion and we have to brace ourselves for the inevitable repercussions.” He tilts his head (which is not adorable!). “But don't worry, we are prepared. We won't allow anyone to harm you.” His eyes glint supernaturally. “I won't allow anyone to harm you.”

Jesus.

Dean throws another glance at Sam. Who still looks like the verge of crying.

And Dean hates to admit it, but he can actually relate.

He thought he would be in hell by now. Probably already ripped apart and then put back together to do it all over again for the hundredth time.

To stand here, alive, at Sam's side, with a freaking angel so obviously eager to protect him – this is just wild!

And so he decides there and then: yep, this must be a dream!

Because gorgeous, intense men eager to save his soul? Yeah, this can't be real!

Right?