#i spared the main tag from this last time but you are no longer safe
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chicken and duck
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄
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⬩ pairing(s) sexologist!francisco "frankie" morales x college student!female!reader
⬩ warning(s) very inaccurate scientific study methods (this could not happen in real life without someone going to jail, i think lol), language, flirting, sexual tension, scientific talk about genitals, safe sex practices, pcos (mentioned), endometriosis (mentioned), commentary on unbalanced male domination of sexual spaces, Spanish nicknames/pet names, smut smut smut, somewhat-guided masturbation, reader hs nipple pircings, dirty talk, mdom-ish!frankie, pussy drunk!frankie, consent checks, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), big hands!frankie, bodily fluids, doctor/patient relations, the whole "we want to but we can't but we might have to anyways" kind of vibes, some aftercare, pov switches (reader's pov uses "dr. morales. frankie's pov uses "frankie.")
⬩ author's note happy new year! starting 2024 off with a bang (literally, ha) of a new series. as mentioned before, this was inspired by an audio series created by anonyfun35 on the erotic audio site quinn (very much recommend the series and entire site if you're looking for more ethical alternatives to regular porn and able to spare a few extra dollars!), which is absolutely heavenly. frankie's been sitting in my heart recently after rewatching triple frontier, and now here we are! here is chapter one, as promised, and i can not wait to share the rest of this series with you all! (p.s. i know some people have asked to be tagged in this, but i no longer do tag lists. for those who want to keep up with new chapter, i'd recommend following the au: the study tag or just check back here regularly! heeds the warnings. let me know if i've forgotten any. drink your water. love you and hope you enjoy. <3
⬩ word count 6.4k(!)
The lobby is suspiciously comfortable for a doctor’s office. As if the chair you’ve been shuffling back and forth in for the past five minutes. You’ve decided to focus on the mint green tint of the walls to steady yourself. Your breath moves in and out of you in quivering streams, and you have to keep running your tongue over the flesh of your bottom lip to stop your teeth from drawing blood.
A sweet-looking brunette types away at the lobby desk, and she sends you a quick smile when you accidentally catch her eye. You hope the grin you send back doesn’t look as pitiful as it felt.
Straight across from you, there’s a poster of a vagina. Vibrant and contrasting nicely with the color of the wall, it labels each part of the genitalia with pretty, curvy letters. You read over each of them, laughing a little when you get to the clitoris. Maybe you should hang a copy of the poster over your headboard. Just to make it a little easier for those who need it.
Your eyes trail left. Another poster, this one with photos of different types of barrier methods for safe sex; on it is everything from internal condoms to dental dams and a short explanation for when it’s best to use them. You study it with a little more intent than the last one and become so engrossed that you don’t hear the receptionist at the desk until her third calling of your name.
You jolt a little, looking over at her with widened eyes.
“Sorry, yes?”
She smiles at the look on your face, shaking her head.
“It’s alright,” she promises, “that stuff’s actually pretty interesting, right? I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Morales is ready to start whenever you are.”
Ignoring the way your heart jumps a little, you rise from your seat with the best grin you can manage.
“Alright,” you nod, gaze flickering down a nearby hallway, “is it–”
“All the way down and to the right. Can’t miss it. And feel free to let me know if you need anything, before or after. I’m here for whatever you need me for.”
There’s something genuine in her voice that lets your shoulders relax. You smile again, and it feels real this time. “I think I’m okay right now, but I appreciate it, I do. Thank you.”
“No worries. Oh, and honey,” she pauses, taking a second to leave her seat and trot over in front of you. “Remember to breathe. Dr. Morales is a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t work here if that wasn’t the case.”
Melanie the tag on her name reads. She gives you one last wink before returning to her desk. A warm feeling fills you nicely as you watch her for a few more seconds.
Melanie is nice. You like Melanie. If you could, you’d stay and talk to her for a while, but no sense in keeping the doctor waiting.
As you head down the hallway, the walk feels like it lasts half a second and a thousand years all at once. Time here seems to work a little differently, but maybe that’s only because of how unbelievably fucking nervous you are.
The room is at the end of the hall on the right. Just like Melanie said. The knock you give the door is softer than you mean for it to be, but it pulls open before you get the chance to knock again.
“Hi, welcome. Come on in, please.”
Well, fuck. Fuck.
The first thing you notice isn’t the fluff of hair on his head, or his big, doe, brown eyes–it’s his voice. A deep, pleasing rasp that’s soft and stirring, all of it combining into a sensation that sits snugly right in the middle of your chest. And legs.
You take a second to swallow the spit in your mouth.
“Hi,” you all but mumble back, swallowing again. God, you hope he doesn’t hear the sharp exhale that leaves your nose when he steps to the side with a smile. Your eyes blow up, big and wide, but only for a second as you swiftly compose yourself. You’re here for a scientific study, damn it, not to gape at how fucking gorgeous Dr. Morales is. Even though he is fucking gorgeous. “You’re Dr. Morales?”
“Yes,” he answers effortlessly, and you bite your tongue when he rattles off your name. His voice. You barely remember to nod, and he smiles. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he opened the door, and it’s already building a bit of sweat at the back of your neck. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Been seeing your name on all the paperwork, so it’s nice to put a face to it. Especially a face as nice as yours.”
You swallow, again, and can’t hold back the grin his words bring. “Thank you and uh… likewise.”
Dr. Morales pauses and your heart stops at the way his face drops. Then his eyebrows raise slightly like he’s impressed, and he takes in a long breath himself. A gulp of air finally refills your lungs when his smile returns, more of a smirk now.
“Thank you.”
The two words are followed by a small silence. You take it as a chance to look around. Dr. Morales takes it as a chance to glance you over, and his teeth bite into the side of his mouth at the dress you’re wearing. It’s airy and short, stopping just above the middle of your thigh.
He sniffs, clearing his throat.
“Well, if you want to go ahead and get seated, I think it’s best we just start with some introductions to break some ice. Then a short discussion about the study itself, boundaries, things like that. And I know you answered a lot of those types of questions in your application, but I think more authentic answers can come about when speaking, you know, face-to-face. Plus it’ll give us both the chance to get to know each other a little better. Relax before we get to the actual… activities for today’s session.”
You blink.
“You’re doing the… the stuff?”
Dr. Morales blinks.
“Yes,” he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, was that not what you were expecting? I-It’s in the forms you signed, though I guess it is pretty easy to glance over if you don’t know where to look. But if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand. We also have some female doctors participating in the study if you–”
“–I’m comfortable with you doing it.” God, you know interrupting was rude. But the words spill out of you before you can stop them. “Really, I’m okay with it. Just surprised me a little, considering…”
A hard clenching of your teeth doesn’t work to hold back the small grin that sneaks upon your face at the expression on Dr. Morales’s face. He’s gone from warm to faltering and back to warm again, with a hint of delight just in the past few moments.
“Considering what?”
Dr. Morales squints his eyes as he asks the question. Watching and waiting for your answer with the knuckles of his fingers rubbing across his pink lips. You only let your gaze trail across the action for a short second. Any longer, and you’re sure you’ll melt away.
“Nothing,” you finally breathe with a soft laugh. The muscles in your neck tense and pull as you force your eyes upwards. Back to his eyes. “Sorry, uh… introductions?”
Something in his gaze shifts and he drops his hand.
“Right, right. Uh, feel free to take a seat here while I pull up your file real quick,” Dr. Morales tells you, motioning to the deep red chaise wing chair you didn’t notice until now. You nod, not trusting your voice, and settle into the large chair. It’s even more comfortable than the one in the lobby, and Dr. Morales just barely keeps his smile at how you subconsciously snuggle into the plush.
Other than the blood rushing past your ears, the clacking of his fast typing is the only sound in the room.
Much like the lobby, the room is rather warm for where you are, literally and figuratively. It’s a kind difference from something like the dentist or your normal practitioner. The opposite of the bright, sterile white you’d expected. You can tell the room was put together with the intention of being congenial for whoever steps inside. The velvet couch and nice rug that decorate the space tell you that much.
It seems that Dr. Morales dresses with the same purpose, white coat hanging forgotten on the back of his swivel chair, showing off the taupe button-up that stretches over his impressive set of shoulders. The shirt is tucked into a pair of thick, clean-cut jeans that hug around his waist.
“Alright,” Dr. Morales begins, sliding his chair over a few feet so you can see him a bit better. He smiles as he continues, reading off your name and age, to which you nod and smile back. You make sure the grin is big enough to cover the shiver that runs throughout your body and you don't notice that he didn’t even have to look at the screen when reciting the words.
“Great. Well, as I already told you, I’m Francisco Morales,” he chuckles, “one of the doctors here participating in this study you’ve so kindly agreed to be a part of. We’re really excited about all the knowledge we’re expecting to gain from the study. I, uh, we–we really appreciate you being here.”
“Oh, thank you for the opportunity. I’m also really excited. Never been involved in something like this before, so… yeah. I’m excited.”
Huh. Excited is one of the few words able to come to your mind as you bumble through the sentence. After only a few minutes with the doctor, you’ve found it’s somewhat difficult to form a coherent enough sentence. It’s even harder with him staring at you.
“What made you want to participate, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Um,” you start without thinking, “part of it was the topic of the study itself, I guess. So many of the things that have to do with sex, at least in my experience, are centered around men and their pleasure and what makes them feel good. So I think it’s refreshing to see something like this.”
“Oh, absolutely. That’s the whole reason for us doing this. I mean, we’ve got gynecologists, hormone specialists, endocrinologists, gender surgeons, and even sex therapists on my team all working together on this.”
“Oh, wow. That’s actually… really impressive,” you breathe out, but Dr. Morales shakes his head.
“It is, but I don’t wanna take all the credit. We’ve got a lot of amazing people working on this thing that’s gonna lead to ways to help women suffering from endometriosis, PCOS, trans women, everyone, really.”
Your eyes soften at the doctor’s words, and you straighten a little.
“Well, now I’m very happy to be here.”
Dr. Morales’s eyes squint with his smile this time. It’s the biggest he’s smiled all week.
“Good. I’m glad. And you’ve already filled out all the financial paperwork? Wanna make sure you get paid for this week’s session as soon as possible.”
“Oh, yeah. That was actually the other reason I signed up. Got some student loan payments coming up, and I could use the extra money.”
Dr. Morales laughs to himself.
“Loan payments are a bitch, aren’t they? Still paying mine off,” He shakes his head. Something about his curse pulls a small chuckle from you.
“Never heard a doctor curse before,” you tell him, and he laughs this time, raising his eyebrows with a shrug.
“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but I should warn you… I can have a pretty dirty mouth.”
Whether he knows it or not, Dr. Morales’s voice seems to drop an octave as he speaks. The words are paired with his gaze clouding to something similar to a stirring ardor. It shakes something inside you, rumbling into the depths of your veins, heating you in a way that feels remarkable. In a way that has you clenching and reeling, eyes just barely watering.
He hasn’t even touched you yet, and he’s got you evaporating into a transcendent air of nothing. You brush your hands along the fabric of the skirt of your dress, arms stretching and trying to find some sense of relief. Dr. Morales stares into you, a burning observance of an action that your subconscious therefore controls more than anything. The look is hot and pointed and forces him to take in a long inhale. He squeezes the thin arm of his chair when you finally grant him a soft reply.
“I don’t mind.”
Dr. Morales pauses before letting out a huff. A smirk teases across his lips, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something. He stops just short of whatever it is, opting to roll his seat a little closer to you while clearing his throat.
His elbows hit the top of his knees, gaze tilting to yours. Unable to hold it, you try to settle for his hands, but that doesn’t seem to calm you at all. You flick your eyes again, this time onto his thighs, but it’s no use.
Damn it.
“Um, so today’s session will revolve around cunnilingus and a some hand stimulation. Uh… sorry. Sorry, I–” Dr. Morales stumbles to a stop and your eyebrows furrow.
“You okay?”
He holds a hand out at the look on your face with a quick nod.
“Yeah, yes, I’m okay. Where was I? Uh… right, so like we talked about a little bit ago, I’ll be the one performing the… stuff, as you called it. And speaking of that, you’re still one hundred percent comfortable with me being to one to do it?”
“Hundred and ten,” you promise with a bobbing of your head that makes him grin again.
“Okay, then,” he nods back, hands rubbing against the denim of his jeans. “Let’s get started.”
.・゜゜・
You’re going to be the death of him.
He had an inkling of it when you greeted him at the door, those eyes all wide as you took everything in. He was confident about it when you assured him that you’d be alright with the fact that he’d be the one ‘doing the stuff.’ He knew when you didn’t mind his dirty mouth. And he was certain when you'd asked if he was alright.
Dead. That’s what you’ll make him by the end of this study, and he’ll go happy. A little embarrassed also, given how he started sputtering through his sentences like he was twenty years younger.
Frankie’s breath catches a little when he returns to the room after washing his hands. You’re just finishing the tie on the robe he’d provided you with, and he doesn’t realize how flimsy it is until now. It maps across your shape damn near perfectly as you hang your dress on the side of the wingchair.
“Hi,” you breathe out, spinning around. Frankie rakes his teeth over his bottom row of teeth hard.
“Hi,” he blinks back, making sure to brighten his face with a small smile. “Ready?”
You shakily hum your answer, smoothing down your robe to busy your hands. It’s made of silk and feels incredible, but boy is it small. Just barely covering the cheeks of your ass, you might as well be wearing nothing.
“Alright. So, before I forget, let me go ahead and get a swab of the inside of your cheek, just so we have that on record.”
Frankie grabs a long cotton swab and its transport tube off his desk, stepping over to where you stand waiting. He swallows, ordering you to softly open. You obey with no questions asked, dropping your jaws.
Did you mean to stick out your tongue, too? Frankie has no idea, but whatever the answer is, he doesn’t care, not with the rustle he feels in his middle.
“Thank you,” he replies after a few scrubs of your mouth, eyes catching yours briefly before sticking the swab in the tube and placing it back onto his desk. He huffs, turning back around to you. “Now, let’s get you settled on the couch.”
Frankie holds out his hand for you to take without thinking. The regret that runs through him slips away as you place your hand into his grip and let him lead you. His other hand reaches for his chair, rolling it over as he walks with you.
He rubs a gentle thumb on the back of your palm as you sit, hand squeezing into a fist when yours drops from his. Frankie sits in his chair with a grunt, planting his feet on the group, making sure to face you.
The man softens a little at the sight of you, all bunched up into a ball of returned nerves, and he thinks for a moment.
“How about we start with a deep breath, yeah? Relax a little bit before we do anything else?”
You nod and Frankie’s head goes a bit fuzzy for a short moment. You’re so sweet, with your tiny robe and all your nods, like candy. You breathe in deep, just like he says to. Your chest rises with it, and Frankie almost forgets to take in the breath as well.
“Good. Now, how we go from here is up to you,” Frankie starts, hands folding together politely. “Robe can stay on, or you can take it off. Your decision–”
“Robe off,” you speak before he’s finished. He holds back a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m okay with it off if you are.”
Of course, you are. Of course, you are, and so is he.
“That’s absolutely okay with me. As long as you’re comfortable,” he states, and your fingers go to pull at the tie. He shuffles, waiting, and swallows when you pause.”
“Um, is my bra being off okay? I took it off with my dress, didn’t even think about it until now.”
Frankie’s head pivots back to the wine-colored chair. And so you did. There’s more lace than he expects, causing him to stare longer than he means. He turns back to you with his eyes darker than before.
“That’s perfectly fine.”
You nod again, fuck, and finally pull the ties. His heart nearly stops as the silk slips down your shoulder, exposing your naked skin to him, inch by inch.
God, you’re devastating. You devastate him, and he’s going to die a happy, happy man. It’s inappropriate, he knows that, but fuck. Yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also a man with blood pumping through his veins and down into his cock, which he’s currently shielding with a subtle cupping of his hand.
Your robe continues to fall, and soon enough, nearly all of you is revealed to him. His eyes, working with a mind of their own, fall upon your breasts.
Of course.
“Wow,” is all he says, and the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You peek down, the tips of your barbell piercings shining with every one of your shaky inhales. “Wow, uh… wow.”
“Oh, these. Yeah, I got them a few years ago,” you reveal, setting the robe to the side. “Hurt like hell, but it was worth it.”
“While I definitely agree, I was talking about your… everything. You’re gorgeous, querida.”
Querida. The name is unexpected, yet received by you with dilating pupils. It’s not just the way he says it but the way he says it. You can tell that he means it, every letter. Every syllable, as it falls off his tongue, into your ears, and down to just inside the thin layer of your panties.
It’s the only piece of clothing left on your body, and you’re certain they’re soaked. You can feel yourself seeping through, needing for something to happen. Anything, or you’ll die.
“Thank you,” you murmur back, impatience inching you closer and closer. To what, you don’t know, but you think it’s something special. “Should I go ahead and…?”
Dr. Morales’s gaze oozes down you where you’re slowly parting your legs. It takes him a second to answer.
“Uh,” he interrupts himself with a short laugh, “actually I was going to have you do something else for me first. When you’re, you know, in the act of pleasuring yourself, how do you usually start? Do you… do you dive right in or is there some kind of build-up?”
Legs having paused, you blink. It’s almost impossible to formulate an answer, but somehow you manage.
“Normally, I’d play with my nipples.” God, it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. “Tease myself for a little bit until I’m ready to start.”
The doctor sits back in his seat, still covering his growing member.
“Why don’t you go ahead and do a little bit of that for me?”
There’s that thing again. With his voice, the thing that is causing your organs to convulse and squeeze. Has you scooting a little further back onto the couch with ease and a deep breath.
You hear Dr. Morales suck in one of his own as your legs spread a little further, revealing a large wet splotch in the very middle of your panties. It’s seeped a little into the couch, and you’re not even embarrassed. Your legs more because you want him to see it. You need him to.
A flinch jerks you when the tips of your fingers meet the buds of your breast. You twist and pull, and it feels good. Better than normal with the beautiful doctor watching you do it. They start to pebble around the metal and a few shocks through you.
Leaving your lips is a gasp. Soft and nearly nothing, but it tugs something from Dr. Morales.
“That’s it. Good girl.”
When you gasp again, he bites his lip.
“You like that? You like it when I say that?”
You nod.
“Words, querida.” No matter how much he likes the nod.
“Yes, I like it when you say that.”
“When I say what?”
You hear him chuckle at the small groan you release.
“A good girl.”
Your voice is even smaller now, hoarse with want.
“Good girl.” Another groan from you. “Now, I need you to move a little further down, okay? Slip those pretty panties off for me.”
Your turn.
“You really like them?”
Dr. Morales’s throat bobs at your question you ask while dragging your hand lower. They glide across your stomach to rest just over your center. Pushing onto your clit, your moan is muffled by the way your teeth catch the soft flesh of your lip.
“I do, muñeca,” he assures you. “I really do. They’re almost as pretty as you are.”
You can’t help the full grin that sneaks onto your face. You push against yourself a little harder, and your head falls to the back of the couch. Fingers hooking under the seam, you tug.
Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion at this moment. You raise your head back up, just to catch the reaction from the doctor, who’s already gazing into your pussy when your eyes refocus. His breathing changes from long, calming inhales, to unsteady suspires.
“Jesus,” he grits out just under his breath when you eventually throw your panties alongside the robe and fully open yourself to him. Clenching around nothing, you relax further into the couch, legs propped and feet settled against the velvet.
Your huffs push out hot when Dr. Morales finally lifts from his seat. You don’t dare look away as he steps forward, towering over you. He bends at the waist, face lowering near your own. He gets so close that, for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you. Press his pouting lips into yours like you so badly want him to.
His breath fans across your face, but he pulls away before you get to bask in any of the warmth. In his hand is a pillow from the couch that he plops onto the floor.
“Bad knees,” Dr. Morales mumbles, smirking at the dazed look in your eye. You say absolutely nothing, only watching as he drops his knees onto the wide pillow, hands clenching the edge of the couch cushions.
All the doctor does for a tick is stare. He stares and stares, tongue darting out to wet his mouth.
“Keep rubbing for me, hermosa,” Dr. Morales orders. “Just a little more.”
Your pussy clenches around nothing when your fingers dip down and come back sticky with your wetness. A whine exits you, and your head falls again.
“Can you touch me now? Please,” you remember to add at the end, the ache between your legs forcing you to squirm. “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”
A hand on your thigh almost startles you. Your head tips back up to see his palm sitting heavy against your leg.
“This what you want?” He asks, another scalding touch planting itself on your other thigh. His hands give thrilling grips, thumbs landing at the very edge of your dripping lips.
A pathetic nod from you.
“Words, gorgeous,” Dr. Morales tells you, gaze completely unmoving.
Gorgeous. Hm. A new one, but just as effective.
You pant a few more times before pushing out “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”
“Good girl,” he praises, and you’re nearly done for. “Now, if I ask on a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you right now?”
It’s tough to think of an answer. His hands, so big and inching closer and closer to your heat, are melting your thoughts away at record speed. Everything you try to come up with leaves too fast for you to catch them.
“A… a seven,” you sigh, liking the way his eyes twinkle at your response. “Seven.”
Dr. Morales chuckles lowly, looking up at you.
“Seven?” Frankie grins. “I haven’t touched your pussy yet, and you’re already at a seven?”
He waits for an answer but only receives a long whine that makes him want to laugh again. Fuck, you’re cute. And wet enough that your juices ooze out of you with a pretty shine, and it’s all for him.
Honestly, the only reason he’s lasted this long is because this is for science. Because Francisco Morales is a medical professional and needs to have some kind of composure. It’s breaking, though. He knows it, and not just because of the way his hands crawl closer and closer to your pussy. Or because of the ache in his cock that’s straining against the crotch of his jeans. Sucking in a breath at the feeling of it catching against the tight fabric, Frankie scans you.
Your chest, those stunning tits, have a noticeable rise and fall and you watch him. Something in your gaze, an unexplainable force, finally pulls his face down. It’s as close to your pussy as it’s been. He tries to remind himself about the self-control he’s supposed to be possessing, but a few more seconds pass and it’s nowhere to be found.
He starts just off the left side. The first kiss, soft and careful to start easy. Figure out what you like, what you don’t, and what you really like.
Kiss after kiss, his lips press a little harder. Gliding across the skin of your thighs and pelvis, staying in a spot a little long when it elicits a sound or squirm from you.
The pecks turn to full smooches, and he soon enough finds himself right where he wants to be.
Eyes meeting yours, he sinks into you with a long, fiercely slow drag of his tongue. Frankie’s gaze ties into yours, he puckers his lips and sucks. It’s a supple thing that he pairs with a flick of his tongue right across your pearl.
“Oh,” you squeak, unable to continue with anything but another broken sound. When you arch, Frankie’s hand reaches higher to rest against your hip. He had his suspicions that you were a squirmer, but to see it like this, up close is something else. Something special. “Shit.”
God, you taste incredible. Better than incredible, and while he wants to tell you he can’t. There’s no way he’s pulling away from this, so he suffices for his own moan.
“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, mouth lifting to suck a bit harder. The hand not occupied on your hip reaches until his thumb sits just inside your opening. He rubs, delicately, all the way up, only pulling his mouth away to smooth it over the slick skin.
Another moan, this time from both of you when your hips grind upwards. He matches your movements, letting his head dip back down to continue his lick.
After a while, Frankie decides to up it a notch. Delve as much of his mouth as he can against you, lapping and slurping whatever he can catch before it leaks down onto his chin. The sound it makes, your pussy and his soaking lips, is disgusting. Loud, sinful squelches of wetness that he would give anything to hear for the rest of his life.
Yet somehow, what leaves you is even better. A combination of hitching breaths, loud coos, and cries for him to keep going. Just like that, fuck. So he keeps going, just as he is until he can barely breathe.
He yanks away from you with a grunt but makes sure to replace his tongue with his hand.
“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Frankie husks out, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh while he finishes catching his breath. “What number now, princesa?”
Frankie makes sure to wait until you’re about to answer him when he snakes his tongue into your slit and fucks. His head bobs back and forth, tongue caressing as deep inside of you as he can. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing with ease thanks to the mixture of slick and spit.
“I don’t know, I can’t think of one,” you rush out, and Frankie chuckles. He gives you one last bold lick before pulling away. He has to hold you tighter when you squirm in irritation, nearly sobbing.
Frankie shushes you with a kind pat on your thigh. You don’t have a chance to whine anything out before he hooks an arm of your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the couch. One of your legs hangs just off the couch, so the doctor hitches it over his shoulder.
His eyebrows scrunch, and he focuses his attention on ghosting a few fingers just barely inside of you. He looks up at you and is met with you already looking back, ready and waiting for him to push further.
He pauses in a wait. Not ten seconds pass before you try to thrust his fingers further yourself, but he doesn’t let you.
“All you need to do is give me a number, baby, and I’ll fuck these as deep as you want.”
“Nine,” you whisper, and he spots your hands clench. You must want to touch him.
“Nine,” he repeated, thumb rolling a circle over your clit. “How many fingers to get you to ten?”
“Three, plea–ah,” you mewl out when Frankie slides his middle digit inside you. He lets out his own noise at the way you suck him in.
His hand bottoms out, and you’re already fucking yourself on his finger. “That’s a girl. Already taking my finger so well. Feel so fucking good around me.”
You’re truly a sight to behold as Frankie watches you, skin damp with a slight sheen, curving and grinding against his hand. Speed increasing, almost growls when he bends to lap at your clit. His tongue twirls against the bud of nerves, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from reaching down and giving his painfully hard cock a squeeze.
Frankie slides in the second and third finger at the same time, and you break.
You don’t mean to tangle his hair with your fingers, but they do anyway. It’s hard, but you tug them away, clenching the couch instead.
“Sorry. Sorry, I–” you blurt out, breath long gone, but Dr. Morales has none of it. He doesn’t lift from his licking and swirling to grab your hand and tangle your fingers back into his hair. “Fuck me.”
The rhythm he finds is relentless. He pumps knuckles deep inside you, sliding in and out, collecting a residue of thick moisture. He curls his fingers, searching and finding the spongy spot that causes you to tighten your grip on his hair. His fingertips drag across it, over and over, and you fall limp in his grasp.
“Good fucking girl,” he tells you, words slurring together in his pussy-drunken state. “So good for me. Now I need you to cum, alright? Need you to come for me, all over my fingers so I can drink it all up.”
Dr. Morales slurps messily, chin now nearly dripping as he eats at you. Savoring the tang and hint of sweet while his fingers drive with a steady vigor. There’s no way you can stay still now. You arch, twist, and grind into the doctor, propelling him even deeper. He’s reaching somewhere inside of you that you once thought impossible. Taking grasp of you entirely.
You’re close. You’re so close
“I’m clo–fuck, yes, I’m close. Please don’t stop, please,” you whimper.
“Yeah, you are. Squeezing all nice around me, like a good girl. Sucking you into my mouth. Love how you feel on my mouth, baby. And on my tongue and around my fingers. Never gonna forget how you taste. Shit, could come just like this, so I need you to come right now, okay?”
Frankie doesn’t even know what he’s saying, his rambles. They just pour out, some of it incomprehensible as he busies himself with circling and flicking your sensitive clit.
You sob out one last moan before the damn breaks. He groans along with you at the way your clit throbs against his tongue. His fingers slow, but only a bit as they make sure to rub right against your g-spot.
A choking sound leaves you as you can barely breathe. The air sucks from your lungs almost as hard as Dr. Morales does down below, and your eyes clench shut. You see stars and space, world falling mute, and body quaking with a thick orgasm.
It rolls over you in drowning waves, the euphoric warmth, driving you with an unbearable bliss. You whine, crying out a few tears. Twitching and shivering under the strong hands of Dr. Morales.
His hold is tender as you work through it, talking to you gently in the pauses he takes from licking you clean.
“Fucking look at you, querida.”
“Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.”
“Can’t wait to get you back in here next week.”
Only some of the words make it to your ears. The blood rushing makes it hard to understand, but just the sound of it is comforting enough. You feel more kisses press into you, this time just under your belly button, as the fingers inside you still.
The two of you stay like that for several minutes. Dr. Morales murmuring quietly to talk you down. Your leg still over his shoulder caressed by his free hand, while your own twirls at his brown locks.
“Fuck me,” you breathe out eventually, and Dr. Morales smiles against you. You can’t help but join him, chest warming at the final peck he places onto your knee before lowering your leg.
“Gonna pull out, okay? I’ll go slow,” he tells you. You nod, hand falling around his to touch at the warm skin. You huff out a short breath, mouth falling open as you stare at the wetness revealed when he begins to pull out.
Frankie whispers out his own damn, watching you until his fingers are free. Fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t you?
“I meant what I said earlier,” he declares, pushing away the thought. “Did great, muñeca. Incredible, actually.”
“I could say the same for you…” you mumble with a shy grin, and Frankie finds it touching. You’re divine. You’re precious. You’re… his patient.
The room is filled with heat and smells of sex. It clouds Frankie’s brain, but he knows he needs to keep moving. You can dwell, but not him. He’s got a job to do.
Frankie only lets himself stare for a few more minutes before he rises with a groan. His knees are aching, but he doesn't care. His face heats when you help him up the rest of the way, loose limbs and wet stains in all.
“Thank you,” he smiles, moving to hand you your robe with his untainted hand. “Let me go grab you some water and a towel, and then we can do your swab so you can get out of here.”
He’s turning to leave, heading for the bathroom across the hall to wash his hand–it’s still wet and shining, even now–but stops when he sees the look on your face.
“Is it required that I leave right away?”
Frankie is quick to answer. The small pout on your face makes it so.
“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “You’re free to take your time, take a breath. Sip on the water I’m gonna go grab you. Hell, you can even take a nap, if you want. I’ve uh… we’ve got rooms upstairs with beds and blankets. I think there are some snacks in there, too.
“Really?” You blink at him.
“Yeah. Gotta keep you all as comfortable as possible.”
Frankie sees that look again, the pout. He’s not sure you even know you’re doing it.
“I actually might take you up on that nap. I don’t think my legs have really come back yet,” you tell him, looking at him while slipping on the robe. When feels your eyes trail down, right to the bulge in his pants, he sucks in a rough inhale and does his best to screen the obvious.
“I’ll be right back with that water and towel,” Frankie rushes out, turning for the door.
His clean hand is sitting shaky on the handle when he hears you.
“Do you want me to…” you trail off, pausing for so long that he doesn’t expect you to keep going. “I could help you with that if you want.”
That. He knows you aren’t talking about getting water or towels, and it crumbles him. He grits his teeth, dick jumping at the thought of your–
No. No, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t.
Frankie turns, digging deep for the strength to look you in the eyes.
“...we shouldn't, sweetheart. It’s against the rules, and we don’t want either of us getting in any kind of trouble, right?”
It takes a long time for you to nod. Way too long.
“Right,” you agree, but Frankie can smell the lie. He wonders if you can smell his, too.
© superhoeva
#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#francisco morales x reader#francisco catfish morales#francisco morales#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier smut#triple frontier#au: the study
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I Come With Knives Pt2
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Part 1
I am posting this at almost 1am AND I have to get up early tomorrow to do work for class before the actual class haha I plan my time accordingly
I was going to make this chapter longer. I had an idea and I started to write it, but it just wasn't coming out like I wanted it to (bc I'm writing at 12am duh) so I'm gonna put that in another chapter
Warnings: mentions of torture, trauma, hints of paranoia, hints of self-deprecation
Word Count: 1,390
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After a grueling battle yesterday, you chose to give everyone a day off. It gave them time to rest aching muscles, repair and sharpen weapons, relax. It gave you a chance to bathe.
You didn't neglect your hygiene, but most of the time, once camp was set up, the sun would be dipping below the horizon. On those days, you'd run into the water, scrub the gunk out of your hair and get out, back to the safety of company before the first stars faded in. Now that you had the chance, you weren't going to squander it.
Once you were certain you were alone - an uncomfortable thought soothed only by the sun filtering in through the canopy above - you stripped down and waded into the water. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. You wasted no time scraping the dirt and blood off your skin.
Once you cleaned your body within an inch of its life, you ducked your head under the water and scrubbed at your hair and scalp. It was disgusting - you could only imagine the smell your companions had put up with this last week. You were just so happy you were clean. Your hair was smooth as water soaked it through, no knots or clumps of blood to be found. As you squeezed out the excess water, you caught your reflection between the ripples. In moments where it stilled enough, you could see the scar on your neck. It was still deep and prominent, but it was beginning to heal. It'd never healed before.
"Enjoying yourself?"
You nearly shrieked when you turned, sinking into the water up to your neck for protection. Astarion chuckled at your reaction.
"Would it kill you to stop sneaking up on me?"
"I was practically stomping like an ogre, dear, it's hardly my fault you weren't paying attention." You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. It was your fault you let your guard down. In the day, you were safe from (most) vampires, but there were any number of things ready to attack at any moment. "Mind if I join you?"
You shake your head, but you're already wading to shore to grab your clothes. "No, go ahead. I'm done."
"Leaving already?" You nod, not making eye contact. "I won't look, darling, if that's what's got you so flustered."
You pause mid reach for your shirt as he removes his, placing it haphazardly on a rock by the water's edge. His pants came next and you looked away until you heard the water sloshing around him.
"Though, I don't mind if you look," he teased, sparing one last glance over his shoulder before he got to work cleaning himself.
Gods, if he could hear the way your heart raced... You peek over, just a glance, before you look back at your clothes. But then you're looking again.
An intricate scar of circles, lines, and curved symbols marred his back. You feel your throat close just looking at it. You'd been forced to watch spawn and slaves alike punished by the cracking of a whip. Forced to keep your eyes forward by a hand on your jaw as the leather snapped and tore into their skin. This was worse. This was deliberate.
"Did..." You swallow, forcing your voice not to crack with the sorrow you felt for him. "Did your master do this?"
He hummed, continuing to wash his arms as though you'd asked him about the weather. The only hint it bothered him at all was the way his muscles tensed and the disdain in his voice. "Cazador," he spat. "He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas." His movements slowed to a stop. "He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made... a lot of revisions as he went."
You couldn't stop staring. Your mind kept replaying the torture you witnessed, but it replaced their cries with Astarion's voice. You hated to be so lucky. To be so fortunate that your master wanted you to look absolutely perfect and unmarked. You never received physical punishment. You were too precious.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, shakily. "If I could, I'd..." What? Remove the markings forever? Take away his pain and suffering? Go back and change everything so he never had to be a puppet? You couldn't do anything. You can't help. You can't remove that pain. All you can do is witness the aftermath.
He sighed and ducked his head so he could wash his hair. Drops of water slid down his back, only drawing your eyes in further. “It won’t matter when we get to Baldur’s Gate. I’m going to kill that bastard for everything he did to me.”
You know you should leave. Put on your clothes and slink away. But… being around Astarion isn’t entirely unpleasant. You’re still a little scared of him - of what he could do, but you trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t do those things. He probably understood your plight better than anyone else.
So, you slide down into the water until you’re resting on your knees in the silt. It doesn’t quite cover your neck unless you duck deeper in. You want to hide the scar, the damn mark showing everyone else who - or rather, what you belonged to. But it felt wrong to try hiding it when Astarion was fully showing you his.
“I never asked who your master was.” He turns his head slightly, eyes just barely catching sight of you. He did promise he wouldn’t look, after all. “Where she…” He waved a hand noncommittally and scowled. “Rules.”
Her eyes flash in your mind, wicked and burning. You almost flinch just thinking about them. When you speak her name, your voice trembles. “Kir Parthene. I… don’t remember where she lives. It’s been years since I’ve even been outside - I must have forgotten.”
He slowly turns, giving you time to tell him to turn back again, but you don’t. You watch him through a fog of memories. “How long were you enslaved?”
It’s harder to answer than you thought it would be. Time begins to blur when you can’t tell if it’s night or day, when everything is fuzzy and incoherent because you never had enough blood to think straight. Sometimes she’d feed and then leave you for days. Others, she never wanted to stop feeding - drinking from you morning and night before you ever got a chance to recover. You were a slave to her hunger - time never mattered.
“I was… 16 when I was taken.” You wrap your arms around yourself. Safe. “I don’t even remember home. My parents… I’m all alone.”
He’d never heard your voice so small before. You weren’t the most demanding leader, but you could still bark commands when things were getting rough. You even held yourself well in conversation, shutting down lopsided deals or uncomfortable topics with all the authority of a royal guard. It was easier, seeing you like this, to imagine your life in servitude. Meek and quiet.
“That’s not entirely true.” He kneeled in the silt a few feet from you, smirking. “You have us for as long as this adventure lasts, as long as we don’t transform into tentacled Mind Flayers.”
“And then after that?” He shifts uncomfortably at the question. “Everyone will go their separate ways, and when you do I’m a sitting duck. I’ll be captured again. Used again.”
You trail off, but the weight of your words sit heavy. You’ll never be free. You could help everyone else with their quests, help them free themselves from what ties them down, help them get stronger - but the same couldn’t be done for you. Without knowing where your master lives, there’s no way to seek her out and kill her, too.
The water is too cold now. The cool summer breeze only freezes you more. Astarion watches as you get up and slink back over to your clothes. He looks away before he can see anything you wouldn’t want him to. In no time at all, your clothes are back on and you’ve pulled on your boots. But before you walk away, you turn to him. Your eyes are so sad.
“Thank you. For… showing me.” He says nothing. So you head back to camp. Alone.
---
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#fanfic#fanfiction#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate astarion#baldur's gate tav#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate tav#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#light angst#i come with knives
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I turn and reach for you
Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.
Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations
TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid
Word Count: 2.1k
Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo
This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump.
Title from a poem by Devon Strang.
After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.
Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.
Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.
He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.
(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)
It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.
He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.
The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.
The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.
The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.
This is something he has to deal with alone.
(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)
It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.
It doesn’t stay that easy for long.
Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.
“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.
He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.
Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.
He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.
He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.
He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.
And he isn’t even really sure why.
It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.
But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.
Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.
All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.
He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.
“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”
At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.
“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.
He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.
“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”
He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.
After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.
He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”
“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.
“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”
“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”
“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”
Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”
Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”
Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”
Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.
Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.
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Hey, how you doing?
So, could you please write something we’re the reader is a princess who needs to be escort by The Bad Batch, but she is also a fan of them?
Thank you, and sorry if this is confusing 💕✨
I'm doing extremely well love thank you so much for asking! I'm sorry that this took so long & I hope that you enjoy!! I had a lot of fun writing this, hopefully I didn't stray to far from the prompt <3
Word Count: 2,746
Warnings: None 💖
As a princess of a Mid Rim planet, you were often required to attend banquets on the regular
Usually you would just attend these on your planet, as your parents preferred not to put you at risk by having you travel off world
So suddenly you found yourself swept up in getting prepared for one of your first trips off world
However, this next banquet was extremely important
It was only being held on Coruscant, as it was a chance to have royalty, senators, and Jedi interacting in one safe (-ish) venue
Due to you not traveling off world, that made you a huge target
There were many people who wanted you dead as your planet was important to the republic, and this was their opportune moment to do so
So it was decided by your parents that you would have to travel undercover, not accompanied by your royal guard or anything to give away that you were of royalty
Your kingdom had gotten in contact with the republic, trying to see if they could get you a safe passage to Coruscant
There were no squads available, but in a moment of luck, the royal guard stumbled upon Clone Force 99
They were on planet to refuel and restock on supplies
So your parents were contacted about this new piece of info, and after a call with the republic, Clone Force 99 suddenly had a new mission to do
They were informed that they would need to get you to coruscant, having to pass through a rogue checkpoint set up by enemies of your planet
As this was all going on, you were getting ready to leave for your first ever off planet banquet
You were excited, your home world was lovely but you had read about so many other planets
After your servants had helped you pack up what you needed for your trip (your actual items for the banquet were being sent on a different ship, you just had some spare changes of clothes and other necessities), You quickly got changed out of your royal garb into something much less conspicuous
Dressed in maroon leggings, black boots, a dark gray undershirt, and a black poncho, you felt completely different then how you usually dressed
You quickly tied your hair back into a bun, throwing the bag with your stuff over your shoulder as you walked to the main hall
You heard many voices, one in particular that was booming through the halls that you couldn’t put your finger on
You stepped into the main hall, stopping as you noticed five men standing with their backs to you
You recognized the armor right away, and let out a small gasp
In the past, the 212th has come to your kingdom to help and protect at banquets
You have had Commander Cody assigned to you personally a few times, and over the years you have become pretty close friends
As you were pretty sheltered from the war, you would always pester him to tell you stories about everything
At first he refused, but over time he started to open up and tell you the stories he had
It was interesting hearing about the 212th
But the stories that really stuck with you were the ones surrounding the clones who dubbed themselves ‘The Bad Batch’
The crazy antics, the fact that they just charge head-on into battle, it was nothing that you have ever heard of before
Especially compared to the clone troopers you knew, it was just so,, out of character
So needless to say you became a big fan (and Cody knew it)
The most recent time Cody had visited, he showed you a holovid of the batch fighting
You were completely and utterly awestruck by them
So seeing the men who donned the armor that you had seen in that holovid weeks ago made you completely stop in your tracks
You quickly take in a deep breath and made your presence known
Hunter
When Hunter turns around to see you, he was taken back by how pretty you are
He noticed your increased heart rate, at first he figured that it was because of the armor, but it didn't seem like you were scared?
He just mentally shrugged it off, raising an eyebrow under his helmet
He would then take the initiative and introduce himself and the Bad Batch to you
He carefully took his helmet off, giving you a small smirk as he walked towards you
Seeing his tattoo in person put you in a state of awe, he was gorgeous - Intimidating, but gorgeous
You would go to stand in front of him, giving a smile and sticking your hand out for him to shake
Throughout the entire trip, you were intrigued by Hunter
You thought that he would be a lot more intimidating, but he was honestly extremely laid back
He gave you a tour of the entire ship and made sure that you felt safe and comfortable before he gave the command to take off
When you had to go through the checkpoint, he had to leave you to talk with the guards, but when he could he would sneak glances back to make sure that you were ok
The checkpoint went smoother then expected, and Hunter was able to come back pretty quickly and sit by you on his bunk (he had allowed you to stay on it while you were being transported)
After a few hours on board, you finally mustered up the courage to ask him about his senses (you were dying of curiosity) - which deeply confused him since he had never mentioned them
You would then confess how you knew Cody and that he told you about them
He would chuckle, mumbling under his breath about how that explained why your heart rate went up before
Hunter would then put his hand on your shoulder teasingly, just so he could see how it would affect you
Of course it made your heart rate go up, which made him chuckle
He then went into explaining his senses, and mentioning how he could feel your heart rate
You were a blushing mess! Especially when you realized that he could tell how you were being affected by him
But the moment ended to quickly, him getting up to prepare for the landing on Coruscant
When you land, he would lead you out with his hand on your lower back, making sure you safely got off
And then when it was time to depart, he pulled you in for a hug, lowering his mouth to your ear
“Hopefully we’ll see you again sometime Mesh’la”
Wrecker
When he notices Hunter turn around in the throne room, he automatically follows suit, holding in a gasp when he first saw you
He could not get over how beautiful you are, living for how your outfit is matching the Batches color scheme
It took all of Wreckers self control to not yell out a greeting, realizing that you are royalty
But when Hunter introduced him to you, he automatically gave a wave and a hearty hello
Honestly it was so adorable, it caused you to grin and wave back (much to your parents dismay, you weren’t acting very princess-y)
When you shake his hand, you are absolutely baffled by how big his hand is compared to yours
Your were expecting to feel intimidated by him, but honestly you felt the complete opposite
Hunter led you on a tour of the ship, and Wrecker automatically tagged along, curious of you
He pointed out small items around the ship, introducing you to Gonky and showing off Lula
Lots of laughter came from him as you glanced curiously around the ship, not used to being on this type of transport
Wrecker definitely made you giggle, and made you feel safe as you crossed the checkpoint
He stayed back with you, pulling you behind him when the guards entered the ship
You had a light blush on your cheeks as you stood behind him, feeling completely and utterly safe in his presence
When the guard was off the ship, he quickly pulled you into a hug and spun you around, picking you off the ground
You let out a little squeal at this, never being picked up like this in your life before (but you really liked it)
He held you against him for a little longer, hesitant to let go
When you did, you gave him a wink, turning when Hunter came back from the cockpit
You left this man a blushing mess
When it was time for you to leave, he was visibly upset
You gave him a hug, and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek (to the best of your abilities, this man is tall)
You assured him that the Bad Batch would be your go to whenever you needed help with anything
Wrecker smiled brightly at this, quickly kissing you on the forehead and stepping away
While you were walking away, Wrecker brought his hand up to his face
“Have fun at the banquet!!!! Eat as much food as you can for me!!!”
Tech
Tech was fidgeting with his datapad when you arrived in the throne room, trying to figure out the schematics of the transport mission so that your parents would be reassured that you would be safe
He’s the last to turn around, when Hunter introduced him to you
Tech gave a small greeting, reaching out to shake your hand, then going automatically back to his datapad
You raised an eyebrow at this, but you weren’t bothered
Cody had told you about how Tech was always like this, focused on his work
You two didn’t interact again until you were on board of the Marauder, him piloting the ship
You sat down in the co-pilot's seat, staring out into space
This was one of a few times you got to see it in person, so you were amazed
Tech noticed this, and was honestly confused why you were so infatuated by something so simple
In fact, he was so confused, he decided to state that out loud
You described how you barely left your home world, for your safety according to your parents
He raised an eyebrow at that, but noticing how your eyes were flashing from every object you saw, he started giving you facts about what you were seeing
It was extremely comfortable, you were excited to be learning about concepts you had never seen until now, and Tech was excited to share facts with you
After a while, you asked him if he could tell you about different planets he had been to recently, and Tech happily obliged
When Hunter came into the cockpit to prepare for the checkpoint, you got up to excuse yourself
As you passed Tech's seat, he grabbed your wrist, squeezing it slightly and giving you a small smile, before pulling away
You replayed that moment in your mind for the rest of the evening
When the guards came into the ship, you weren’t able to see Tech
But in the cockpit he was bouncing his leg, flicking his eyes between the guards
When they left, he mentally let out a sigh of relief, piloting the ship towards Coruscant
Soon it was departure time, sadly not being able to see much of each other since of him being the designated pilot
He stood off to the side, and you quickly ran over to him
You pulled him into a hug, him tensing before wrapping his arms around you
As you pulled away, you noticed how he fixed his goggles, fidgeting slightly before he looked back up at you with a slight tint of color on his cheeks
“Thank you for listening to me”
Echo
You hadn’t seen Echo before, he wasn’t on the holovid that Cody had shown you
But as he took his helmet off to properly greet you in the throne room, you were in awe of him
He had a small smile on his face, reaching forth to grab your hand with his intact hand, and bowed his head slightly to you as you shook it
Echo seemed like a complete and utter sweetheart (and you were slightly mad at Cody for him never mentioning Echo to you)
When you were first boarding the Marauder, he offered to take your bag, and was overall being such a gentleman
You thanked him multiple times, and after you took a tour of the ship, you plopped down on one of the boxes in the main area
Echo was sat across from you, and gave you a small smile
He was honestly taken aback by you, he had worked with royalty before, but they had usually been extremely rude to him
So meeting someone so excited to be in his company made him slightly flustered
Crossing your legs, you looked up at Echo to ask him about himself- You let him know how you had known of the Bad Batch from Cody, and from that he quickly rubbed the back of his neck
He talked about how he had just recently joined them, and how his bsttalion often worked with Cody's in the past
That made your eyes widen, excited to meet a friend of your friend
You got up quickly to make your way closer to him, standing in front of him with your hand out with the intentions of having him shake
"Well hello Cody's friend, I'm also Cody's friend nice to meet you!"
He quickly grabbed it, letting out a chuckle and stood up, but he didn’t let go of your hand
You reached out with your other hand to hold onto his arm cybernetic, giving him a small smile
He was about to say something, before Tech yelled for Echo to join him in the cockpit as they were making their way to the checkpoint
Echo quickly squeezed your hand, before quickly moving away from you
The checkpoint went well, you were unable to see Echo during it though as he was sat in the co-pilot chair, fiddling with the ship (You honestly had no clue what he was doing, you weren’t that ship savvy)
He stayed up there until you all arrived at Coruscant, and as you were leaving he quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you towards his chest
Echo then pulled away, before handing you your bag, patting your hand as you gripped onto it
“Stay safe please, if you need anything comm me”
Crosshair
Crosshair was not that excited to be doing a transport job
They had done it a few times in the past, and the people have always been rude
But when Crosshair turned around, he mentally couldn’t avoid how beautiful he thought you are
He didn’t let it show though, giving you a small smirk as he shook your hand
“Nice to meet you princess”
You blushed automatically, stepping away from him and giving him a slight nod
You gave a quiet response, respectfully giving a slight bow
Crosshair could tell how he affected you with his words, and he decided that he was going to use it to his advantage
He could tell you weren't going to be like the other passengers they've had in the past, and it was only going to be for a day so why not mess around with royalty?
So when you tripped going the ramp of the Marauder and he caught you, he held onto you and leaned down to your ear
“You better be more careful princess, you wouldn’t want to damage that pretty look you got going”
Needless to say your face was bright red, and ran into the ship while his smirk widened
You could hear Hunter chastising Cross, and you let a small giggle out, holding your hand to your face
This is not how you thought your interactions with the sniper would go at all
You didn’t see him until the checkpoint happened, Cross joining Wrecker in protecting you by keeping you behind them
He didn’t say anything as the guards came on board, but he did move slightly back towards you
When the threat was over, he plopped down into his bunk, taking his gun kit out and started to clean it
Wrecker had stepped away to go and check on what was happening in the cockpit, making sure everything was good
You watched curiously, not saying as you both sat in silence
It was relaxing until he looked up at you and raised an eyebrow, not understanding why you were just staring at him
He figured he might as well continue messing with you, and sent you a wink
With your face bright red, you rolled your eyes and walked to the front of the ship away from him
Crosshair let out a chuckle at that
When it was time to leave the ship, you walked out behind him
Cross purposely stopped halfway down the ramp, forcing you to run into him
He turned around, feigning a look of surprise with his eyebrow raised, leaning his face near your ear
“I guess you are just drawn to me princess, sad I can’t join you at your fancy banquet”
#I had so much fun writing this#I spent a lot of time brainstorming since I had so many ideas#I made Crosshair super flirty lmao hi#Ask#Oh my gosh happy bad batch eve!!#Hunter x reader#Hunter#Wrecker x Reader#Wrecker#Tech x Reader#Tech#Echo x Reader#Echo#Crosshair x Reader#Crosshair#The Bad Batch#The Bad Batch x reader
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Sentence Structure and Flow
Someone on discord asked me about how I structure sentences and how I learned to write. I’m going to do my best to answer! Hopefully it’s useful. It got long, so I made it a Tumblr post.
On learning to write:
Sky_squido, the author of “What Hyrule Hadn’t Seen” made this presentation and there were several points in it that I found incredibly helpful.
The two main ideas that I found most beneficial:
It’s about the ~vibes. Every story or scene has some kind of overall theme or emotion. Once you’re far enough into your story to have found what that is, edit your word choice to match. If a word technically works but doesn’t fit the mood, replace it with something else. The actual definition of a word is sometimes less important than the emotion that word conveys.
Verbs are incredibly important. If you’re having trouble with your sentence structure - if your story seems boring or like the prose drags - look at your verbs. I tend to use “is” as a verb far too often (or “was” for those of you who write past tense), so a lot of my editing comes down to reworking some sentences to make the stronger, more interesting words be the action words. So instead of “Legend was walking,” the sentence would be “Legend walked.” Or, even better, “Legend strolled/stalked/slouched along.” We’ve gone from a passive sentence to something that tells us, in engaging fashion, not just what Legend’s doing but how he’s doing it and maybe even a little about how he’s feeling.
Filter Words
Another post I found incredibly helpful: examples of how to cut out ‘filter words.’ It’s great for adding urgency, establishing tone, and introducing strong descriptions into your writing. Basically, this is how to put ‘show, don’t tell,’ into practice at a sentence-structure level. I use this approach a lot when it comes to conveying character emotion.
A couple other points
Variation is your friend.
Repeating things draws attention.
Description slows things down.
1. Variation is your friend.
For most writing, it’s a good idea to vary your sentence structure and length. Dialogue with no tags is rapid. Same with short sentences. Short and choppy reads disjointed and fast. This also applies to paragraph lengths! Longer sentences and paragraphs read slower, and in turn cause your reader to linger; sometimes maybe even linger too much. A combination keeps things interesting.
Too many long sections in a row - be they sentences or paragraphs - causes reader fatigue. Don’t be afraid to break those up. Let your readers take a breather.
If all your sentences start the same way, rework some of them. Lead with the action in one sentence and the subject in the next.
Starting a new paragraph gets a reader’s attention. You can use this for punch.
You should have one topic, or one person speaking, per paragraph.
Important things go at the start of the paragraph. Readers won’t tend to remember as much stuff from the middle or ends. Speed readers might not read those sections at all. The above note about one topic per paragraph? This is why.
2. Repeating things draws attention.
This applies to everything from individual words to overall themes to something like a series of sentences all with the same structure. It can work for you or against you.
A lot of my editing winds up being me reworking sentences to avoid using the same word too closely in succession. I’m not talking basic words here, like ‘he’ and ‘said.’ Those are non-words. If you have enough strong words around them, they disappear. They’re fine. But to use a snippet from a current work in progress:
...(Legend) bares his teeth, river water dripping off his hair and sticking his tunic to his legs. He braces his legs, wet muck squelching over the sides of his boots.
I wound up changing to “sticking his tunic to his thighs” to avoid the repeated word “legs.” I didn’t want to draw attention to his legs themselves, but the state of them. “He braces his feet,” would also work, or I could just cut the sentence down. “He braces,” does the trick just as well, and might be what I go with for the final draft. If the sentence makes sense without the word, then you can let the unneeded word go and your writing will often be stronger for it.
This can be much harder to do with nouns than verbs. Sometimes you just need to call a sword a sword. That’s usually where I start to alternate between a small group of words. “Sword,” “blade,” and “weapon” can all be alternated between to try to avoid using the same word too close together. You might also be able to get around using the problem word at all, as in the example above.
Another note on non-words. Names and pronouns qualify! You can use them over and over again and readers won’t notice. In fact, trying not to use these words can actually draw more attention than just using them!
For example, referring to Hyrule as “the Traveler.” Is it relevant, in the context of what I am writing, that Hyrule travels a lot? Or am I just trying to avoid using his name too much? If the answer is the latter, either don’t bother or change your sentence structure to remove the name entirely. If you have a solid action word, the name will disappear in favor of the action.
Using ‘Traveler’ in this context draws attention away from whatever Hyrule’s doing to what he is. That may not be the best thing to draw attention to. If what you are writing is a story about Hyrule finally getting a safe place of his own to call a home, you could use it for contrast. In which case, save it. Use it once, so it has impact. But if I'm writing about Hyrule teasing Legend, referring to him in that way can disrupt the flow of the story. It draws attention away from Hyrule's personality and his interaction with Legend to his background.
The point is to do it deliberately! It’s okay to use names and pronouns a lot. ‘Traveller’ is a title. Titles stand out.
3. Description slows things down.
Anywhere you want to linger or draw attention is where your descriptions should be going.
The middle of a fast paced action scene where your character is concentrating on the fight might not be the best spot to go into deep detail about the surroundings or what the enemy looks like. Convey those details in bursts that are worked into the action: “Time nearly rolls his ankle on the rocky ground.” Be very sparing. What makes an action scene interesting is how the character feels about what’s happening. You only need enough information on what the surroundings look like for a reader to follow along, and you can probably do most of that setup in a brief paragraph before the actual action starts.
On the other hand, if your character takes a shocking injury in said fight and you really want to dwell on that moment? Or if they’ve got a really cool, flashy move that they unleash in one single exciting burst of fighting prowess? That’s the spot to let your inner poet shine. Slow those spots down and let the reader really enjoy what you’re doing by using your detailed descriptions there.
This applies to all action, not just fighting. Walking through a busy marketplace? Action. A conversation? Can be approached as action. The best spots to use lots of description will be the spots you want to linger on: the first glimpse of a long-lost friend through the crowd, that last hug as they say goodbye.
Description slows things down. Use it accordingly.
Most everything else I can think of is less to do with flow and structure and more to do with other aspects of writing, so I'll stop here.
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ho ho hopefully - t. seguin
AN: This is like... PURE fluff. Pure soft, Christmas themed, fluffy fluff with our resident idiot, Segs. But like, kind of what we deserve for Christmas, no? Totally based on the BEST Christmas song in existence, Ho Ho Hopefully, by the Maine. Tagging the seggy queen @texanstarslove in this one, since I think she’ll enjoy it. It’s a bit shorter than most, but let me know what you think!
Word Count: 2222
Warnings: None.
December first, I’m in a foreign state, I’m running late, I’m all alone, wishing I was home with you, baby.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have been a big deal to miss it. It was one year, objectively, you could start on December second, or third, or fourth, or all the way up until Christmas Day and it shouldn’t matter. But there was something about December first, how the first signs of Christmas would start popping up, with lights beginning to pop up on homes and trees slowly starting to be seen in the windows, families decorating together. You probably liked December first more than you even liked Christmas because something about that transitional time from autumn scenery into snow-covered streets that actually made sense was comforting, and with everything going on in your life as of late, the only thing you wanted was to be home on December first, with him.
Tyler knew that December first was special. He knew from the years of knowing and falling in love with you how your eyes lit up at the smallest things, like the first snowfall of the season, even though Vancouver rarely got snow. He knew from the way his own heartbeat faster around you that first year you insisted he help you with a tree, his own love for you he was trying to keep at bay trickling through to the surface. He knew that being home with you was inarguably the one thing you wanted, and there he was stuck in an airport lounge in Boston feeling the farthest away from you he could possibly feel on your favorite day of the year.
Tyler looked out the window. His eyes were still as he watched the storm get worse and worse outside. Muffled airport announcements in monotone voices announcing delay after delay in flights. Boston was an eight and a half hour flight from Vancouver, and reality was settling in that his chance at maybe, just maybe making it to you with an hour to spare was steadily decreasing with each inch of snow that was falling onto the ground.
Tyler knew when you started dating that it would be hard. The distance between Dallas and Vancouver was already a hurdle, but the added layer of his career and your own job made the relationship seem nearly impossible. It felt at times like you were two people dangling from a rope, trying to balance too many things at once simply just to be together. But he’d hear your soft voice on the phone, “I can’t wait to see you” murmuring from your lips and it made it all worth it, it made the time difference, the traveling, and the hardships worth it anytime you’d utter those words.
He wasn’t even entirely sure how it happened, him falling so hard for someone who was almost always half a world away. Everyone in his life cautioned him against it, saying that there was no way it could work, you’re too different of people and too different of lives and it wasn’t rational. But Tyler didn’t care to be rational, because you were his best irrational choice he had ever made, and he knew he was lucky that he got to love you.
Tyler held his head in his hands and tried to tell himself that it would be okay. He was still getting to see you later that month for Christmas and that was what mattered. But he also couldn’t help being unfathomably irritated at the bad weather that he couldn’t control, the watered-down shitty Dunkin coffee sitting next to him, and the repetitive cycle of delayed flight announcements ruining what was supposed to be an incredible surprise. The Stars had been in Boston finishing up a long road trip where they would now have two days off before a short home stretch of games. The timing had lined up perfectly so that if he flew straight from Boston to Vancouver, he’d get almost two days with you, one of which being your favorite day of the year. But now as he sat in the terminal, the hope of seeing you just kept dwindling bit by bit, and he was coming to the deafening realization that maybe it just wasn’t meant to work out.
“Any news?” Tyler turned his head quickly at the voice coming from his left. Jamie sat down next to his teammate with a soft frown on his face. Tyler just shook his head and took a sip of his coffee, growing more irritated by the minute. The only thing getting him through it was knowing that even though his surprise was crumbling, you at least couldn’t be disappointed in it since you had no idea he was even planning to come in the first place. But what Tyler didn’t know was that Jamie Benn loved a lot of things, one of which being a classic romantic Christmas surprise, and you had been scheming up a surprise of your own.
It was a last minute surprise, an idea that you had panickingly called Jamie over just the week prior. You had been going through what might have been the worst day you’d had in months, one of those days where every single event felt like the worst thing in the world. You remember curling up on your couch and crying as you looked through the calendar and Tyler’s schedule, trying to piece together how you could swing a surprise visit between their pre-Christmas packed schedule and your own lack of vacation time from work. It felt like the pieces weren’t fitting, and you were desperate to try. So that’s when you called Jamie, and he patiently combed through the practice schedule with you, helped you book a flight and promised to keep it an absolute secret from your boyfriend.
The thing that Tyler didn’t know was that you were also sitting in an airport terminal with a shitty coffee in your hand, waiting anxiously for a flight of your own, the first flight of two that in six and a half hours time would land you back in the lone star state. The main difference was that there was no snow where you were, and all that you had to do was board the plane and show up, Jamie said he would take care of the rest.
You had everything worked out, Jamie had made sure he wouldn’t suspect anything, his dog sitter knew when you were coming, and you had even packed a goofy Christmas sweater for him to wear while you hopefully decorated together. Long-distance with him was hard, but when the schedule seemed to allow for a quick visit, you gladly took what you could get, willingly ready to be tired from the flights even if it meant just a few hours with him.
Each visit you found yourself breaking more and more when it ended, the days between were starting to feel dreaded. Your work was no longer enjoyable. It felt like you were stagnant in Vancouver, with most of your heart nestled safely in whatever city Tyler happened to be in that night. If you were honest with yourself, you knew that this was going to burn out, the distance was going to take its toll on the both of you, and sitting in that airport ready to go see him for the first time in a few weeks, you found yourself thinking for the first time about the idea of not coming back to Vancouver.
Your phone rang in your hand, Tyler’s photo filling up the screen. You set your coffee down and slid your thumb across to answer, smiling slightly in excitement.
“Hey.” you hummed, hoping that your headphones would drown out any announcements about flights that were periodically coming through the speakers around you. The airport was busy, as was to be expected this time of year, but you had worked hard to keep this a secret from him and the last thing you wanted was a muffled airport announcement blowing the surprise fifteen minutes before you were set to get on a fight.
“Hi, baby.” He sighed. You could tell something was off, you could always tell. You and Tyler knew each other so well, the distance between you forcing you both to pick up on things between each other. The things that were highs and the shifts in tone that indicated something was wrong, you both knew. You had memorized all of his little habits, from the typical stuff like how he preferred apples in his oats or how he had to nap at the same time before every game, to the things that people who didn’t know him didn’t have the privilege to see. Like the way he lit up when his sisters would call, or how he was really hard on himself, even when he shouldn’t be. You just knew him, all of his good things and all of his flaws and you loved him endlessly through all of it. You frowned slightly and opened your mouth to speak but he started before you could.
“I’m heading back to Dallas. Our flight was delayed, big snowstorm here.” He groaned. He hated that he was telling you this without entirely telling you why he was upset. But Jamie was next to him, and even if Tyler didn’t want to believe that he was right, deep down he knew the surprise wasn’t going to work, and as much as it sucked, he needed to just go back to Dallas and accept the fact that he would have to wait a few more weeks to see you not through a phone screen.
“I just really fucking miss you.” He admitted and your heart cracked. You could hear in his voice how bad it was, and it only strengthened the feeling of stopping all of the distance between you altogether.
“I miss you, too, bub. But, only a couple of more weeks.” You raised the tenor of your voice a bit, hoping that it would get him a bit excited about Christmas together.
“Yeah, wish it was sooner, though.”
You talked with Tyler for a few more minutes, tapping your foot slightly as you waited for your boarding number to be called. When you ended the call and boarded your flight, that feeling came back. The feeling of wondering if Vancouver could really truly be your home anymore when half of your soul was in Dallas. You spent the whole flight thinking about it, even though deep down you had no doubts about your decision. All it took to confirm it was his strained voice on the other end of the line, the pent of frustrations he was feeling about missing you just as much as you missed him.
Tyler carried his bags through the entryway, exhaustion finally setting in right next to his already bad mood. Gerry, Marshall, and Cash came running up to him, excited to see him and lifting his spirits just enough as he greeted them and then combed through his mail that was sitting on the table. He tossed his bags down and kicked off his shoes, not wanting to bother with taking them upstairs yet. He knew that the dog sitter had left, he had told her when he was coming in. He was honestly looking forward to just relaxing on his couch, face-timing you, and going to sleep. He was supposed to be in Vancouver, walking up to your door and seeing you, and he didn’t have it in him to not sulk about that.
He walked toward the kitchen, freezing a bit when he saw bags of Christmas decorations on the counter. He poked around, sifting through the various bags wondering who had dropped them off or if he had somehow placed an order for Christmas decorations that he forgot about. He got to one bag, a small brown one with a ribbon on the side. It was probably a gift, but when he saw the note with his name scribbled on the front he quickly opened it.
We go together like the winter and a sweater <3
He recognized your handwriting immediately as he opened the bag, pulling out a bright red sweater, laughing softly at the horrible snow-related Christmas pun that was screen printed on the front. He felt warm at how you somehow must have known he needed the pick me up. He kept combing through the bags, various ornaments, and knickknacks, and other decors were littered throughout them. He knew it was you, he wasn’t sure how you coordinated this but he knew you were the reason it looked like Christmas was about to throw up in his kitchen. He smiled a bit, his bad mood lifting when he realized what this probably meant. You probably wanted to decorate on facetime together, a compromise for not being able to actually be with each other and the idea melted his heart.
Tyler walked over to the fridge, cracking open a beer as he unlocked his phone to call you. As the phone was ringing, the dogs started barking like crazy, running back from the kitchen to the front door. He didn’t think much of it until he nearly dropped his phone when he heard your voice.
“Shh, shh, hi boys. Hi! Oh my gosh, hi Gerry.” You laughed, petting each of the dogs as you walked further into the house. You had takeout in your hands and were so focused on not dropping it from the dog’s excitement that you didn’t even realize Tyler’s bags were sitting against the wall in the entryway.
“You’re here.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, smiling big as he walked over to where you were standing. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, his name sprawled across your back, a sight that he never grew tired of seeing and you were carrying bags of what appeared to be take out in your arms. You had slippers on and your hair up, an indication of how relaxed you were. He couldn’t help but internally groan, seeing how comfortable you were in his house, the one he wanted to be your home, too. You quickly set the food on the kitchen table, meeting him halfway. He pulled you in tight and you listened to his heart beating against your ear.
“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re really here. I was going to surprise you.” He whispered, tilting your head up to kiss you. You smiled into the kiss, your heart already telling you what you needed to talk to him about. You didn’t have any doubts about it anymore. Dallas was where you needed to be. It was where Tyler needed you to be, and standing there in his kitchen with Christmas decorations littered all around you and him holding you like this, you were ready. Every buildup to this moment had led you here, in slippers in his kitchen ready to ask him to take another step with you, hoping that he’d grab your hand as he did so.
“I’m really here. Jamie actually helped, he made sure I could get in and made sure you had no idea.” Tyler had never been more appreciative of his best friend. He should have known Jamie would have a hand in a surprise like this, this had secret softie Jamie Benn written all over it, and he adored you, often warning Tyler not to fuck it up with you.
“Remind me to thank him, because wow. Best surprise ever, honestly.” He melted into you. He didn’t care if it was cheesy, or something straight from a bad Christmas movie. He’d watch 100 of those Lifetime movies because the feeling he was experiencing now with you in his arms was probably the exact emotion those cliche Christmas films tried to convey.
“Tyler, I wanted to ask you something.” You said, pulling back just enough to look at him.
“Anything.” He kissed you once more, still in disbelief that you had pulled off a surprise when his had fallen so flat.
“I don’t want to do this anymore, the missed calls, the flights, all of it. I just want to be here, all the time with you.” You smiled. Your stomach was bubbling with nerves as you studied his face for any reaction or reason that maybe he wasn’t ready for that yet. It would be complicated, figuring out how to actually stay in Dallas and be together. But a strenuous Visa application was the least of your worries if it meant that you’d finally get to be with him. Tyler grinned, picking you up and setting you on the table, kissing you hard as he stood between your legs.
“Please tell me that means you want to move here.” He mumbled against your lips. You just kissed him once more.
“There’s nothing else I want. Well I kind of want the food I brought, and maybe we could decorate for Christmas since it’s my favorite day, but like, definitely want to move here the most.” You laughed slightly as you spoke. Tyler just smiled at you, a breathtaking, heartfelt smile that made butterflies swirl around in your stomach. It was an exciting step in your relationship, and you couldn’t help but think about how much you loved December first again, this time for a new reason, because now it was the signifier in a new start with the person you loved. You didn’t care that it was only December first, because to you, this was better than anything you could have received on Christmas Day.
#honeslty look at me adding no angst#shocker#tyler seguin#tyler seguin imagine#tyler seguin x reader#tyler seguin fic#nhl imagine#nhl fic
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I Don’t Intend to Suffer Any Longer ll Extra Fic! Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day
Title: I Don’t Intend to Suffer Any Longer
Rating: T
Ship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker
Series: This Life is Mine (Bo-Katan Week 2021)
Collection: Obitine Cave Fam
Summary: Bo-Katan knows that when she doesn't feel safe, she doesn't sleep. She so rarely feels safe, that even visiting her sister's family on Tatooine leaves her feeling unsafe and refusing to sleep. However, on this particular trip, that changes. ll Extra fic for Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day
Author’s note: So this is actually based on a roleplay universe a bunch of my friends and I created, and I got permission from them to create a little fanfiction universe based in it. I adore the AU we created and I'm so excited to bring this world into my writing. Also, I felt kinda bad that my last day of Bo-Katan week was smut, so here’s an extra fic for all of you Bo-Katan fans!! I had a blast with this week! Thank you all for sticking with me!
Tagging: @bokatanweek
Read here or under the cut
Bo-Katan got the ship ready to land as she lowered into the atmosphere of the most backwater planet she could think of; Tatooine. She never understood why both Satine and Obi-Wan chose this planet to settle down on, and raise their young adopted son; Luke. It kept them safe, which to her, was the most important thing.
Yet despite all of it, she never felt safe enough to get rest while she was there.
She still felt uncertain with Obi-Wan, still trying to get accustomed to working with a jedi like him. Her sister knew this well, which was while she questioned it, she never judged her sister for not sleeping while she was on world. It was something she wished she could do, but sleep never came to her while she was there.
Wherever Bo was, if she didn’t feel safe, she wouldn’t sleep or her sleep would be plagued with nightmares. Even places she had been dozens of times, like the main Nite Owl base could cause her to become anxious and prevent her from sleeping. If they got a new member, or if they had recently had a close call. She became used to working on limited sleep, if she ever slept in general.
As she landed on the created landing platform, she picked up her helmet off the console. She would only hope her sister didn’t see that she had bags under her eyes from the stress she was under and sleepless nights. She hid a yawn as she walked down the ramp, only to get slammed into by a four year old, seeing her sister and her husband walking up towards her.
“Auntie Bo!” She smiled despite her exhaustion, lifting Luke up to set him on her hip. She pressed a kiss to his head. “Welcome home, Auntie Bo!”
Her heart warmed at the greeting, still unbelievable that she had a home that wasn’t a military base. Her sister and family actually had a place for her to stay, and wanted her there.
“Hello, Bo.” Satine walked up and wrapped her arms around Bo to try and hug her without crushing Luke. “How long are you going to be here this time?”
“I’ve got three days of leave before I have to return to base.”
“Awww,” Luke whined as Bo set him down. “Why can’t you stay longer, Auntie?”
“I’ve got people to save, kiddo.” She didn’t want him knowing just what she was doing when she wasn’t on world. At least not while he was this young. She knew her sister would frown at the consideration that she wanted to tell him of violence. Best not to let her know that she was planning on buying him a dagger for his birthday this year. She got one when she was this young from her parents, so it wouldn’t hurt to get him one as well.
He pouted but hurried into the cave where he lived. Obi-Wan smiled at Bo, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m glad to see you in one piece, Bo-Katan.” He smiled “Perhaps once Luke goes down for the night, you can tell us about what you’ve been doing and the progress on Mandalore.”
“Of course,” She promised as she followed them inside. On the table was already a full meal prepared. She was still not used to someone preparing a meal like this for her. She typically made herself something quick and easy, or just resorted to eating rations to get buy. A real home cooked meal like this was rare for her. Not that she was complaining necessarily, and she knew Satine had become a relatively good chef in the time since they were younger.
They all took their seats at the table, Luke making sure to sit next to Bo. She knew how much the kid missed her and she had to admit, she missed him too. It killed her to be off world more and more, finding less chances to come back and visit her family. At least for now, this was the way it was going to have to be.
“Is Korkie gonna come visit us anytime soon?” Luke asked, and Bo sighed. She looked over at Satine, who was pointedly not looking at her anymore, but she knew she was listening. Satine had still been keeping Korkie’s true identity a secret, but she always worried about the state of her son now that he had joined the Nite Owls in their fight to reclaim Mandalore.
“He wanted to join me this time, but he went on a supply run and won’t be back on base for another few days.”
“Oh…” Luke pouted as he took a bite of his food, before launching into a description of what he had been up to for so long since she had come to visit. The story was disjointed, but Bo could keep up fairly well. She listened to his story, smiling to herself as he went. She caught that he was making friends with some of the other kids, though always under the watchful eye of Satine when they went out. They had been to Mos Eisley a little bit more frequently, but lost what they did there in his rapid talking.
“Luke, you need to not talk with your mouth full,” Satine chided him, and at least he had the chance to look a little sheepish as he stopped talking briefly to eat a few bites.
“Sorry, Mamma.” He said, and Bo could see that same stunned face she made every time Luke called her that. She knew that Satine and Obi-Wan had told Luke the story of his birth parents, of Anakin and Padme and all they had accomplished. She had almost expected Luke to stop calling them mamma and papa after that, but the affection of them as his parents remained.
She knew anything different would tear Satine’s heart apart.
“Let the kid talk, Satine, I’m here so infrequently. I want to hear his stories.”
Luke beamed and launched into another story, this one about his recent love of reading some of his mamma’s old books. Bo had been bringing Satine some old Mandalorian children’s tales that Satine would find appropriate to read for Luke so he could learn. She knew there wasn’t much she could do for Obi-Wan’s past, but had found books that he would approve of for him to read to Luke as well.
They had been trying to get him to learn Basic and Mando’a, and possibly Huttese as well though neither were fluent in that.
But it was a connection to his father nonetheless.
As dinner wound down, they retired to a seating area to continue talking. Bo had taken up a seat on the couch with Luke and was playing with his starfighter toys, engaged in a playful fight as Satine sat comfortably on Obi-Wan’s lap as she watched her sister interact with Luke.
Paying attention to this caused her to notice just how Bo’s movements started to become sluggish. Her eyelids lowered as Bo let the starfighter drop to her side.
“Auntie?”
Bo’s eyes opened briefly, and she looked over at her nephew.
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair, and picked the toy up to continue playing with him once again.
As they played, and eventually just sat as Bo started to read one of the books she brought for him. She felt Luke grow heavy against her and she smiled, her eyelids lowering as well. Her arm wrapped around Luke’s shoulder and her head slowly fell to rest against the armrest of what she was sitting on. It wasn’t long before both of them started to fall asleep.
Satine looked over at the couch and gently nudged her husband to look at them.
“Obi, look.” Satine’s voice was soft to try and keep from waking Bo by mistake. “She’s actually sleeping.”
“Forgive me, darling, but I would assume Bo-Katan would sleep, it is quite late.”
“Obi, in the years my sister has come to visit us, how frequently would you say she came to sleep?” When silence greeted her, she continued. “When she doesn’t feel safe, Bo won’t sleep. She knows she has nightmares, and knows they’re more common when she doesn’t feel safe, so she won’t sleep. The fact that she’s willingly fallen asleep means she’s finally starting to feel safe while she’s here.”
Satine looked once again at Bo, who seemed so much younger now that she was asleep. The stress had melted away on her face. While she knew that they were twins, Bo had been graced with a younger face, so she always reminded Satine of when they were children and Bo would fall asleep next to her.
Finally, her sister felt safe enough in the same place as her where she would willingly sleep like this.
The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she felt her heart warm.
“Should we carry them to bed?” Obi-Wan finally spoke up once again “I don’t want them to get a crick in their necks.”
“Don’t worry about it, Obi.” Satine reassured him. “Bo used to be able to sleep pretty much anywhere once she was comfortable. Besides, I don’t think she will be able to fall asleep once again if we accidentally wake her. Let them sleep. Luke will be happy to sleep close to his aunt since Bo is so rarely here.”
“I’ll get them a blanket.” He said as he went to the spare bedroom that Bo never used. In the meantime, Satine got up and went to brush her sister’s hair out of her face.
“I love you, Bo’ika. I’m so happy to see you finally feeling comfortable here. This is your home too and we will keep you safe so you can always get a full night’s rest while you are here.”
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someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader
Chapter III
masterlist
synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blossoms.
warnings/things to note: swearing; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); no use of ‘Y/N’; my fc for Paz is Winston Duke, I don’t describe Paz too much at the moment, but just know that’s who I picture!
word count: 6.4k
karyai - main living room of the covert - a big chamber for talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack.
ba’vodu - uncle/aunt
-
The birds of Yavin IV’s song was calming as you came into full consciousness. The sleep from the night before was much needed, and very refreshing. You opened your eyes and looked to where Paz had been before you’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t there. Neither was your sleep mask. “Kriff!” You flung your body onto your right side, looking away from Paz’s side of the bed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. You’d told him you wouldn't look. Hell, you told him it was impossible for you to look. And here you are, no mask over your eyes. What if he’d been there? After all the time you’d spent convincing him to share the bed with you, that it’d be safe. Sure, you hadn’t actually seen him, but the possibility frightened you. You couldn’t violate him like that, even if it was an accident. You couldn’t live with yourself.
A few minutes of deep breathing later, you got out of bed, and headed into the ‘fresher. You wanted so badly to take another shower, to relax under the water, but you knew it was important to save water, not sure if the covert had water to spare for your journey. You’d have to be content with washing your face and pretending.
You stared in the mirror, into your own eyes. You replayed the night before: the vibroblade that now sat with your stuff, the idea of Paz taking you to his home and meeting his family, learning his traditions. The pure bliss you were in as you fell asleep, and then the violent jerk of the morning’s close call. Your eyes were no longer as tired as they had been when you’d looked at yourself last night.
You threw on jeans and a shirt, and finally left the safety of the ‘fresher. Would Paz be mad about the mask coming off? He was so hesitant as it was, you were terrified that this would push him away, make him realize that there’s too much risk in a relationship with a non-Mando.
“Kebiin’ika?” Paz called as he heard the door to the bedroom open.
“Yeah?”
He stood up and met you halfway between the room and the common area. “How’d you sleep?” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a half hug before leading you to the table you’d sat at the night before.
“Pretty good,” you said, taking a seat. “Paz?” He hummed and sat down a bowl of some type of porridge in front of you. “Are you mad at me?”
The helmet snapped up to look at you. “Why would I be mad? If you think you broke the towel rack in the ‘fresher, you haven’t. It’s always been like that.”
“No, Paz,” you said. “About the sleep mask. It came off last night. I’m so sorry, I thought it would stay on. I’m not really a wild sleeper so I don’t know how it happened, but I understand if you’re mad at me-”
“Kebiin’ika,” he says, cutting you off. You suck in a big breath, not realizing how long you’d been rambling. “It’s not that big of a deal to me, it was an accident. You didn’t see my face, right?”
You nodded. “Right.”
“See? No creeds broken,” he says. He can tell you’re still a little shaken up, and moves to lay his large, gloved hand over your small one. “If I didn’t trust you, mesh’la, I would’ve slept on the cot. I knew the mask came off when I woke up this morning, but I trust you enough that I know you wouldn’t use the opportunity of me being asleep to look, even on accident.”
You couldn’t see his face, but you swear you could hear a smile on his face. “Are you sure? I know I didn’t see anything this time, but I would understand if you want me to take the cot from now on.”
He ushered you closer to him, his arm around you. It was a bit awkward with all his armor and clothes, but the heart was there. “Kebiin’ika,” he said. “I’m comfortable with sleeping the way we did last night as long as you are. I’m not worried.”
You sighed, leaning into him. The beskar was cold and you just wanted to feel him, his warm skin. “Ok,” you say. “If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”
“Good,” he replies. “Now, why don’t you finish eating while I call the covert. Tell them that I’ll be there shortly to pick up some of our supplies, ok?”
You nodded, and he let you out of his embrace. While spooning the food into your mouth, you watched him at the hull, punching some numbers into his gauntlet and then speaking in what you assumed was Mando’a. It was such a beautiful language, especially coming from Paz’s mouth. And he spoke it with a pride in his voice that he didn’t have when speaking Basic.
“Alright, mesh’la,” he said as you got to the bottom of the bowl. “I’ll be back soon, no more than two hours.”
“Two hours?”
“Yes, two hours,” he laughed. “It may be sooner, but you never know. Mandalorians take a long time to say goodbye.”
You smiled at him. “Alright, have fun,” you say.
“Oh, I will,” he replies. You watched as the mountain of blue beskar exited the ship and mounted the speeder the two of you rode the day before. A lot has changed since then, you thought. Before you knew it, Paz Vizsla was gone and a dirt cloud took his place.
-
Paz’s ride back to his home didn’t take too long at all. And when he arrived, he spotted Din and Grogu on some rocks outside the entrance.
“C’mon, Grogu,” Din is saying. “You can do it.” Grogu sat on a rock opposite Din, with his eyes closed. In Din’s hand was Grogu’s beskar ball. Grogu and his ball were inseparable.
As Paz dismounted and began walking towards the hangar, Grogu’s eyes shot open and he let out an excited shriek. Paz didn’t speak fifty-year-old-toddler, but he figured it was something along the lines of “ba’vodu!”.
Din turned around, too, and stood. He picked up his little foundling and greeted Paz half way. “How was your evening?”
“Nice,” Paz says. “Yours?”
Din nods. “Mine was ok, but I don’t have a pretty mechanic in my room like you do.”
Paz rolled his eyes. “Din, it’s not like that.”
Grogu made a sound of protest. “Hm,” Din said. “My Jedi son seems to think differently. He’s never wrong about these things…” Din teases.
Paz stops just as they’re about to open the blast doors. “Din, Grogu,” Paz says. “Just between us?”
“Just between us,” Din says, and Grogu babbles.
Paz sighed, was he really doing this? He was. “We’re courting.”
“I knew it!” Din exclaims, and Grogu laughs. “I knew it, Paz. So what’d you give her?”
Paz patted the empty sheath. “Vibroblade.”
“Classic,” Din says. “What will you propose marriage with? Something of her homeworld’s tradition? Or wait and exchange blades that Armorer makes?”
Paz shakes his head, and he’s smiling beneath his bucket. “Maker, Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Though he figured it’d be blades. You didn’t seem too fond of being reminded of Alderaan. “But I’ll put your name in if we need a wedding planner.”
“You better,” Din replies. “Armorer will want to know, too.”
Paz nodded. “I know. I’m not sure I’ll tell her this time. I don’t want word getting out.”
“She won’t tell anyone, you know that.”
“I know, but still,” Paz said, finally punching in the code and opening the doors. “But we’ve got a covert of eavesdroppers.”
There was a child tending to one of his chores just inside, and as soon as he spotted Paz, he practically lunged at him. “Paz!”
“Hey, ad’ika,” Paz says, taking the young kid up onto one of his arms. “I didn’t get to see you yesterday!”
“I know,” he said. “My buir had me at home practicing math. Math! Can you believe it?”
Paz laughed. “Knowing your buir? Yes, yes I can.”
The group walked further inside the winding the halls of the covert, adding new people to their crew as they saw them. Eventually they reached the karyai, and everyone got comfortable on the many cushions, chairs, and sofas littered about the room.
Paz stayed standing. “Sorry, everyone,” he said when he noticed their disappointment that he wasn’t going to be there long. “But I’ve got my end of a deal to hold up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.” Paz noticed that at the mention of a her, helmets turned to the side, looking at each other, silently gossiping.
“Then come in here, Paz,” Armorer says, at the doorway to her forge. “And we’ll discuss what you need.”
Paz obeyed, making his way through all the Mandalorians relaxing in the karyai. He closed the door behind him, and sat at Armorer’s table. “We’ve compiled some things for your journey,” she says. “It’s not much, but it’s what we have. It’s in the hangar, I’m sure Clan Djarin would be happy to assist you in taking it back to your ship.”
“I’m sure it’s more than enough,” Paz replies. “Thank you, Armorer.”
She nodded. “Now, how happy was your mechanic at being left on the ship for so long yesterday?”
Paz could hear her smirk. “She got bored. Wasn’t there when I got back,” he said. “I almost lost my mind, but she was just in the little town, shopping.”
Armorer let out a soft chuckle. “And you’re trying to tell everyone you aren’t smitten? Maker, Vizsla, I’d think you’d be better with convincing by now.”
Paz sighed. “You’d think.”
Armorer’s stare bore into him. For Mandalorians, it usually wasn’t intimidating when another looked at you through their visor. It was normal. But Armorer’s presence was different, she was intimidating. “Where is your vibroblade?”
Kriff. “It’s right here,” he said, patting the sheath on his left side, where his second vibroblade sat.
“No, not that one,” she said. “The one I forged for you when you donned your helmet. I swear you had it yesterday.”
Well, he might as well tell her at this point. She wouldn’t believe that he’d lost it, this blade had Mandalorian and Vizsla carvings in it, he rarely used it in combat. “Don’t tell anyone this,” Paz said. “I want it to be a secret for now, ok?”
She nodded.
“I gave it to her. The mechanic.”
Armorer sucked in a breath so sharp that her vocoder picked it up. “As a courtship proposal?” Paz nodded. “I wish you both many blessings, many warriors,” she said. Paz didn’t know if you wanted warriors, but Armorer’s blessings were traditional, and carried a lot of weight.
“Thank you, Armorer,” he replies. “I will pass along the message.”
“If you two are courting, then why didn’t you bring her here? Are you still going on your journey?”
Paz nodded. “She has unfinished business in the Hosnian system,” he didn’t tell her what business. It wasn’t his place, and Armorer understood. “We’ll be back, though I’m not sure when.”
“Long hyperspace travel will be good for your relationship.” Armorer entered counselor mode. “Building trust and love.”
Paz always felt a bit awkward when she became a psychologist. So he just nodded. “Anyways, you said the supplies were in the hangar?”
She nodded. “Take care of her, Paz,” she said. They both stood. “This is the Way.”
“This is the Way,” Paz repeated.
Paz exited the Armorer’s workshop. Back in the karyai, some people had gone back to their rooms or to tend to their duties, but many still sat around. “Din?” Paz said to his friend.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t happen to know where Bezza is, do you?”
Din nodded. “Last I saw she was in one of the sparring rooms.” Paz thanked him and headed off down one of the long corridors towards the training rooms.
All the sparring room doors were open except one. Paz opened it gently, and looked inside. Bezza wielded the beskar staff Din had brought back with him. She was sparring with a reprogrammed droid, the only one in the covert. Paz watched with pride as she jabbed at the droid, careful not to hurt it too much. There were still children that would need to learn from sparring with the machine.
As she landed a final blow, the droid declared her the winner, and she backed off. Paz clapped from his place at the door. “That was very impressive,” he said. “You’ve gotten used to the armor quite well.”
“Paz!” She dropped the staff and walked towards her friend. “No one told me you were here.”
“That’s probably best,” Paz said. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to not repeat it, ok?”
Bezza nodded. “Ok. But if you tried to bring a Loth-cat in again, I’m not making any promises.”
Paz laughed. “It’s not a Loth-cat. It’s about my girl.”
“Your girl?”
Paz nodded. “We’re courting.”
Bezza threw her arms around her ba’vodu. “Paz that’s wonderful!” Their beskar sang as he patted Bezza on the back. When she finally let go she said, “Are you guys staying here? When do you think you’ll marry? I know Mandalorian courtships tend to not last long, but she’s not a Mandalorian so-”
Paz cut off her rambling by saying, “I don’t know. Like I told Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”
Bezza laughed. “Of course you haven’t. How many people have you told, Paz? You know if you tell the wrong person, your courtship will be the topic at many dinner tables tonight.”
“I know,” Paz replied. “Only you, Din, and Armorer know.”
“Ok,” she said. “So I take it you’re not going to stay here?”
Paz shook his head. “We’re off to Hosnian Prime as soon as I get back with the supplies.” Somehow, Paz could sense Bezza’s disappointment. He wanted so badly to be there for her, help her through her losses, but he’d made a promise to you. A Mandalorian’s honor was their everything. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be there, but we’ll be coming back here. Maybe even to stay.”
“What’s even on Hosnian Prime?”
Paz sighed. He wanted to tell her, to give her a detailed reason so maybe she felt better. But, again, it wasn’t his place. “She has some business to take care of, Bez.”
She nodded, somewhat satisfied. “Can I walk with you to the hangar?” Paz nodded and they left the sparring room. All the way there, Bezza asked questions in typical teenage fashion. What’s her name? What’s she like? What color is her hair? And Paz answered them all. He figured you wouldn’t mind, and they weren’t too personal. All her questions reminded Paz of just how young she was. Other Mandalorians would understand not to ask those questions, just as Bezza would, in time.
In the hangar were Din and Grogu and that kriffing ball. Din had already loaded the speeder bikes with the fuel and food, and was now just killing time with his son. “Din!” Paz called. “I’m just about ready.”
Paz turned to Bezza. “When I get back we’ll start a plan for your training. There’s still a lot to get used to in the armor, especially with the jetpack.”
“Ok,” she said. “Hurry back, alright? And be safe!” Paz and Bezza exchanged a few more goodbyes, and he promised to pass on her hello to you.
Finally, Paz and Din had mounted the speeder bikes. Grogu sat in a carrier on Din’s chest, obviously excited to feel the wind whip around his long ears. The men had unspokenly made it a race, revving their engines and attempting to pass each other without knocking their cargo loose.
-
You sat outside the ship, taking in the fresh air as the Mandalorians arrived in a cloud of dust, Mando’a, and a baby’s shriek. A baby? You thought.
You got on your feet and approached the speeders. To your surprise, the Mandalorian in unpainted beskar greeted you by name. Quite a lot kinder than the stare he’d met you with when you’d first arrived. “Hello,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then your eyes finally dropped from the helmet to the carrier on his chest. “Who’s this?”
“My son,” the Mando said. “His name is Grogu.”
You smiled at the baby. “Hello, Grogu,” you said, and introduced yourself to him. Grogu’s tiny little arms reached out for you, and with Mando's permission, you picked him up. “You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you, Grogu?” He babbled excitedly.
The two of you stood back as Din and Paz began loading the supplies onto the ship. “Your dad is very strong, Grogu,” you tell him as Din lifts a large crate off the bike and into the cargo hold. “Are you going to be strong like him?” Grogu gives you a strong response. This kid has to be a handful, you thought. Grogu stayed gripped onto you, his three little fingers wrapped around your one, gurgling and babbling like he made all the sense in the world. You, of course, humored him, and had a deep conversation about the inflation of credits as the shift from Imperial credits to New Republic credits took place.
Eventually, the men were done, the ship was loaded and refueled. “Alright, Grogu,” you say. “I think your dad will be wanting you back.” You placed a kiss to the top of his odd green head, and attempted to hand him over to the Mando. Grogu had other ideas. His fingers stayed gripped on the back of your t-shirt.
“Grogu,” Din said. “We have to go. Come on.”
You laughed at the little baby, amazed at how he’d become so attached to you in such little time. “Go on, hon,” you coax. “Your uncle and I will be back soon, I promise.” His big, dark eyes looked up at you, and then he allowed you to pass his little body to his father, who fastened him into the carrier.
“Safe travels, you two,” Mando said, and attached the bike Paz rode to his own, and him and Grogu were off.
Finally, you were able to give Paz a hug. “Ready, kebiin’ika?” he asked.
“Yeah. Let me call Leia before we go,” you say. “I forgot to this morning.”
“Ok, I’ll be waiting in the cockpit whenever you’re ready.” He turned around and disappeared onto the ship.
You held the holoprojector in front of you, anxious. Surely Leia would want to see you, right? After all your time together…
You sat the projector on a rock and sat down in front of it. You punched in the numbers Leia had sent you a while ago, and waited. Finally, a young girl answered. “May I ask who is calling?” You told her your name. “And who are you calling for?”
“Leia,” you said, and then cringed. “Uh, her royal highness.” You’d never really grasped the royal protocol.
The girl looked closely. “Is the princess expecting you?”
“Uh, not really,” you said. “But we fought in the Rebellion together. She gave me this number, told me to call if I needed her.”
The girl nodded, and walked out of frame. Hopefully, she’d return with Leia. She did return, but no princess in sight. “Her royal highness will meet with you shortly.” And then she was gone again.
You sat looking around at the trees, taking in your last minutes on a planet for some time. And even when you got to Hosnian Prime, it would be way different. Hosnian Prime was busy, unlike Dantooine and Yavin IV.
“Finally!” said a voice. Leia’s. She stood in holo form on the rock, an elegant white dress covered her form and her hair was in two braids down her shoulders. “I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”
“Leia!” you exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to call, but you know how I felt when the war was won…I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”
She frowned. “Oh, stop that,” she said. “I’ll always want to hear from you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get on the line, Korrie is quite protective of me.”
“I understand,” you smiled. “You are a very important person, your royal highness.”
Leia laughed. “Now, what did I tell you back on Alderaan about formal titles?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a normal person when you’re with me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I take it you’re a bit exhausted with decorum at the moment?”
She nodded. “And it doesn’t help that Threepio is the decorum police, either.” The two of you shared a laugh at the droid’s expense. You didn’t know how Leia could stand C-3PO all the time. “Enough with my complaining, are you ok? Is there something you need?”
“Well, I was calling to see if you’d receive me on Hosnian?” you asked. “I want to catch up with you, maybe even a few friends from the old days?”
Leia smiled. “Of course I’ll receive you! When are you leaving? And where from?”
“Yavin IV,” you say. “And hopefully as soon as I hang up with you, if that’s ok?”
She nodded. “That’d be great. I’ll have Korrie send you the coordinates. I can’t wait to see you!” Leia had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, and you couldn’t wait to be in her full presence again. You exchanged goodbyes, and Leia disappeared from the rock.
Back on the ship, you grabbed a fruit bar from the kitchen and sat in the cockpit. “How was your princess?” Paz asked as he copied the coordinates from your holopad.
“Good,” you replied. “I had no reason to be anxious, really.”
Paz put a gloved hand over yours on the armrest. “I’m glad it’s working out, mesh’la.”
“What’s that word mean? You’ve been calling me that all day.”
His thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. “It means ‘beautiful’,” he says.
“Mesh’la,” you repeat. “It’s a beautiful word, no wonder it means beautiful.” Paz chuckled a little at your awe.
His hand left yours and landed on the controls. “Ready to head out?” You nodded, mouth too full to properly respond, and the take off sequence was activated. The ship rose out of the clearing, and you watched as Yavin IV grew smaller beneath you. You saw a building off in the distance, it looked half underground, with a large hangar at the front.
“Is that your home?” you ask, pointing out at the structure.
Paz nodded. “Indeed it is,” he says.
“That was part of the Rebel base once,” you say, remembering your time here. “I didn’t spend too much time on that part, though. There was a main hangar a little farther down, but after the war Leia had a lot of it removed, so the wildlife could return to normal,” you say. “Guess not all of it was taken.”
The ship finally reached the atmosphere and Paz guided the ship through it with grace. The jump to hyperspace was made, and the ship was on autopilot for the next three days.
Paz turned to you in his chair. “We live in a rebel base now?”
“Indeed you do,” you say. “I think a lot of that building was quarters for officers and stuff. I’ll bet Leia can tell you when we arrive.”
“You want me to come with you to meet her?”
You looked at him, a little confused. “Of course I do,” you tell him. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there and I’m sure that a princess has room to spare. Besides, it’ll do you some good to sleep on a proper bed for a few nights.”
“Are you sure, kebiin’ika? Mandalorians aren’t greeted too kindly.”
“Maybe not in the Outer Rim,” you say. “But that far into the Core? And a guest of Princess Leia’s? I’m sure it'll be ok.”
He nodded. “Ok, then. I’ll come with you.” You smiled at him, wishing so badly to smile at his face and not his helmet. You took his hand in yours, stood up, and led him to the little common area. There was a small sofa pushed against one of the walls, and you motioned for him to sit.
“I’ll be right back,” you say, and retreat back to the cockpit. When you return, Paz is sat on the sofa, still as can be. It was still a little creepy, how he could just sit there. You held up your holopad. “First thing to know about dating me is I need designated snuggle and holodrama time.”
He laughed. “Is this a common thing or just a kebiin’ika thing?”
You sat down next to him, a little confused that he was wondering if cuddling and watching holos was common. “Am I your first girlfriend, Paz?”
“If I say yes will you think I’m weird?”
“No, I won’t think you’re weird.”
“Then yes,” he said. You looked at him, feeling a wave of sadness. Had this man been cuddled ever? Hugged? Loved? You cared for him so much already, and you wanted him to feel those things.
“Well, I’m not sure if it’s a me thing, but it’s an important thing,” you laugh, setting the holopad up to project against the blank wall of the ship. A show about a Jedi and a Twi’lek healer’s unrequited love played on the wall, a slight silver hue brought by the metal of the ship. You moved to cuddle against him, but the armor was stubborn.
“Could you, like, take some of this off?” You say, gesturing at the metal.
He feigned surprise. “You haven’t even taken me out, mesh’la, and you expect me to strip?”
You rolled your eyes. “Just lose some of it so I can cuddle you.” He obeyed, the cuirass and pauldrons going first, and then the gauntlets and gloves. He was left in his fly suit, made of a coarse weave fabric. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would do. You moved his arm around you as you settled into his chest. You could tell he wasn’t too sure what to do. “You’re warm,” you sigh.
“Sorry, mesh’la,” he says.
“Why are you sorry? It’s nice. Hyperspace gets cold,” you tell him. He was a little tense at first, he wasn’t used to this, he really hadn’t been properly cuddled since before he lost his buire so long ago.
Paz looked down at you, your head resting against him as you took in the predictable plot of the show. You were relaxed, almost like earlier that morning when he’d woken up. The mask had been gone, and your eyes had gently fluttered in your sleep. Paz felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling he’d been having a lot since you’ve been around. It’s gotten more and more intense, especially as you curled yourself into him. Your touch was burning into his skin in an amazing way, and he knew he’d be able to feel it long after you’d get up. He repeated your it’s nice in his head. No one had ever told him that touching him was nice. In fact, most people hated the touch of a Mandalorian. If they even lived to hate it.
As the drama went to an ad for some kind of Bantha milk, Paz felt you move to look up at him. “Paz?”
“Hmm?”
“I know you can’t tell me what your Mando friend looks like under his helmet,” you say. “But can you tell me how he fits his ears in the helmet?”
Paz laughed. “What?”
“Well, if his ears are anything like his son’s, I’d imagine it’s hard.”
He threw his head back in a bellow of laughter. “Mesh’la, my friend and his son aren’t the same species. Grogu is a foundling.”
“A foundling?”
He finally recovered from his laughter, and his breath steadied. “Yeah, Mandalorians take in children who’ve lost their parents. My friend was a foundling once, and his son is a foundling.”
“Oh,” you said. “Well that explains the ears, I guess. You weren’t a foundling were you?” You remembered him saying something about Vizslas being important on Mandalore.
He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “The Vizsla line goes as far back into Mandalorian history as I can trace. But most importantly, Tarre Vizsla, who was a Jedi, created the Darksaber. Whoever wields the dark saber is the Mand’alor, our ruler.”
“Who is the Mand’alor now?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “There isn’t one. Mandalore isn’t the same as it was, it hasn’t been in a very long time. Before I was born, even.”
“Well, you’re a Vizsla aren’t you? Shouldn’t you wield it?”
He laughs a little. “That’s not exactly how it works, mesh’la. Well, it worked like that for a while, but now you must win the saber in combat. Except no one knows where the saber is.” His voice had gotten sad, and he was running his right hand over his left while they sat on your back, some kind of self-soothing. “Besides,” he says, “There’s a lot of Vizslas out there I’m sure, and I don’t want to be a king. That is not the path that I follow.”
“I understand. It all becomes...a bit much,” you agree. Leia had offered you multiple positions on multiple committees in the new Senate, all dealing with labor laws and droids with a bunch of political nonsense you didn’t care to wade through. Not to mention having to represent the voice of mechanics all over the galaxy. No. Too much stress.
“Kebiin’ika,” Paz says. “As much as I like this old, lumpy sofa, don’t you think we’d be more comfy laying in bed?”
“I’m starting to think you’re a mind reader, Vizsla,” you say. The two of you awkwardly untangle in a mess of limbs and beskar clangs as you accidentally collide with his cuirass that lay on the floor. “Sorry,” you say, moving his armor up onto the sofa and off of the floor.
“Don’t be,” he reassured. “Beskar is practically invincible.”
The two of you made it into the bedroom, you set your holopad up properly to project onto the blank white wall ahead of the bed, there for this reason exactly. The show was brighter now, and clearer. It was technically late afternoon by Yavin IV time, but in hyperspace it was hard to tell. Paz got rid of the armor on his lower body, the codpiece, thighs and knees, and shins. He also kicked off his boots.
He looked so beautifully mundane. Doing something that he’d done a million times at this point, probably, and he was an expert. Could do with his eyes closed. And you loved it, you wondered if his brow furrowed under the helmet when he had to prod a clasp a little harder, or if he let out a soft huff when a piece was finally removed.
He climbed onto the bed and motioned for you to sit between his legs. Kriff, his legs were big.
You settled between his legs, back against his chest. His hands sat awkwardly on his thighs. “You know you can touch me, right?” you say, moving his hands to lay around your middle.
“I have to remind myself, mesh’la,” he says. “You’re not a quick fuck. You’re someone I want to be slow with, I’m just not sure how to go about it.” You were a bit surprised at how blunt he was, but honestly? You appreciated it. He wouldn’t be playing games with you.
You squeezed his hand. “We will go however slow as you want, alright? And don’t be afraid of me, ok? You can ask me anything.”
“I know, cyare, and I’m grateful for that,” he says softly. He wanted to kiss the top of your head so bad. He’d seen it in holos before, but never really understood the appeal until now.
At some point, you’d fallen asleep in the Mandalorian’s arms. It wasn’t until an hour later that he woke you up. “Kebiin’ika?” He’s whispering as much as the vocoder will let him. His voice is deep in your ear, and briefly becomes a part of your dream until you finally wake up.
“How long was I out?” You ask, sitting up and stretching your arms out in front of you.
He stood up, stretching his arms, too. “About an hour, I think. I dozed a bit, too.”
“I’m hungry,” you complain. He agrees, and you’re off to the kitchen. You start making sandwiches with a few of the vegetables you knew he’d bought back on Dantooine. You smiled at them, filled with a bit of nostalgia. That greenhouse of Aliria’s was always a peaceful place.
Paz is doing the same, though he’s making two sandwiches. You presume it’s because he’s such a large man, and such a strong man too. When you had relaxed into his chest, he was comfortable, a layer of fat that told you he took care of himself, and underneath you knew were strong, hardened muscles.
“Paz?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you want to sit with our backs to each other?” you ask. “So we can eat together instead of in shifts?” He nods, finishing up his sandwiches. You grab your plates and make your way to the sofa. He moves his armor back onto the floor a bit clumsily, and has to remind you that beskar is strong. He’s facing to the right, you to the left, backs together.
“You can lean back on me, cyare,” he says, and you smile at the switch of the nickname. It was kind of nice, not knowing which endearment would envelop you when he opened his mouth. You hear a click and hiss, sounds you’d heard the night before, and then the clunk of his helmet on the ship’s floor.
“I forgot to tell you earlier,” he says between bites. “Armorer and Bezza said to tell you hello.”
You remembered who Armorer was, but your brow furrowed, trying to recall where you’d heard the second name. “Bezza is the girl who you bought the journal for, yeah?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind my telling her about us. I’m the closest thing she has to family at the moment.”
You smile. “Of course it’s alright, Paz,” you say. “I’d love to meet her. She sounds very sweet.”
Paz felt a wave of joy rush over him. Bezza was very special to him, even more so now. And now you were special to him, too, and he wanted nothing more than for you two to get along. “If I would’ve known I would’ve brought her with me to the ship instead of my friend,” he said. He had to catch himself before saying Din’s name, knowing that Din was very particular about his name. Bezza, on the other hand, was a more modern Mando. “Maybe once I teach you to use that vibroblade, I can teach you how to wield a staff. Then you two could spar.”
“I don’t know, Paz,” you say. “I’m sure you’re a fantastic teacher, but I don’t see myself holding my own against a Mandalorian in combat.”
He laughed a little. “I’ll train you the Mandalorian way. One day, mesh’la, you will hold your own.”
A silence followed, you could hear the crunch of the chips he’d put in his sandwich as he bit.
“Is Bezza your foundling now?”
Paz swallowed his bite. “Maybe if she was younger I’d take her in, but she’s practically an adult. I wouldn’t want to insult her by insinuating she still needs caring for.”
“Everyone needs caring for,” you say, leaning your head back against him. “I’m twenty-six and I need caring for, emotionally anyways. I’m not sure how old you are, but I’m sure you do, too.”
He wasn’t at all shocked that you were twenty-six. He was, however, shocked that his age didn’t ever come up. “I’m forty-three,” he said, hoping that wouldn’t scare you. It didn’t seem to, so he continued. “And I guess you’re right, but still, I can care for her without taking her in.”
“I guess,” you said, and decided to let the topic of Bezza rest for a bit. “Do you think you’ll ever take in a foundling?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to father some kids as well, but also take in foundlings. Not only is it important to the Tribe, but I love kids. That’s why I’m their teacher whenever I’m not out hunting.”
“That’s sweet, Paz,” you tell him. “I’d like a kid, too, I think. Though, it scares me. Making a person inside my body for almost a year.”
“Mandalorians say to train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger,” he says. “I’m sure you can see why. Having children is important, it’s even in the Mandalorian wedding vows: ‘we will raise warriors’.”
You smile up at the ceiling, picturing you and Paz having a wedding. Some weird mix of Mandalorian and Alderaanian culture, exchanging Mandalorian vows. Maybe it was a bit early to be thinking about this, but you didn’t care.
-
You watched as Paz cleaned the plates from lunch. He volunteered to take your plate, and now he stood at the sink, scrubbing away the residue of the condiments and components of your lunches. Again, he looked so beautifully mundane, gloves gone, revealing his dark skin to you. Through the bubbles of soap you saw small pink scars littering the top of his hands. He scrubbed away with the brush, working diligently. Again you wondered what kind of face he makes when he concentrates. Does he stick his tongue out a little? Bite on the inside of his lip?
You thought back to the wedding you’d put together in your mind. You thought about how after those vows were exchanged you’d get to see the face he makes not only when he concentrates, but when he’s happy or frustrated, too.
He was such a mystery, but also easy to read. It confused you in the best way possible, and all you wanted was to read chapter after chapter of Paz Vizsla until you got to the part where you’d get to see his face, kiss his face, talk to his eyes rather than a visor. Someday, you told yourself. Someday.
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Futamono
2x06
Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham
Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, sorta cheating? If not i’m walking a fine line
Author’s Note: This episode! It hit different. In particular there are a few scenes that I am very excited for you to read so reactions are greatly GREATLY appreciated because I love love reading them as they come. I really hope you enjoy! not gonna lie its hard to write something that might hurt will so i might just protect him through and through lol
I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar
Official Episode Summary : A city councilman's body is found intertwined with a tree, Jack crashes Hannibal's dinner party to investigate Will's suspicions, and a revelation shocks everyone
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director
Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95
(not my gif)
The Baltimore State Hospital was colder than usual. You felt it as you walked down the hallway to where Will was. You felt odd. Like your stomach was in knots and you never had that with Will. He never gave you that feeling.
As you stopped in front of the cell he turned around. He sat down, like he would usually when you were there. He kept note that you did not sit down on your white line, nor did you approach the bars. You weren’t scared of him, he knew you weren’t. But you didn’t look exactly happy with him either.
“Hi,” Will said, breaking a crackling loud silence.
“Hannibal Lecter is alive. In case you were wondering.”
“I was not,” he told you. You let out an annoyed sigh and looked down at the ground. You had thought about how to approach this with Will but every rehearsed conversation felt wrong. This didn't feel exactly right either.
“Will,” you whispered and met his eyes. He stared at you and you stared at him. You shared a few words with your eyes.
“Chilton will have a hard time figuring out this conversation,” he muttered and you cracked a small smile.
“You can’t send a man to kill Hannibal even if you think that he is the Ripper.” He raised a betrayed eyebrow.
“I didn’t send anyone to kill Hannibal. And are you saying he isn’t the Ripper? Did his kiss persuade you that much?”
You imagined Chilton hearing that over the speaker. Probably got popcorn to accompany this conversation for the dramatic guy he was.
“I still think he is.”
“And you have no problem with that?”
“Of course I have the problem with murder,” you breathed. You sat down on the white line finally and he was happy to see you at his eye level again. You stared at each other hard and he knew you knew that he sent someone to kill Hannibal. There was no need to say it. “This isn’t going to help you in the eyes of everyone,” you whispered.
“I’m not scared anymore,” he admitted. You mulled that over for a minute.
“I’m glad. I still don’t condone murder on either side.” Will smirked a bit, laughing.
“Actions speak better than words.”
“Jacks gonna come speak to you about this.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Oh I have no doubt. I’m just giving you a girlfriend worthy heads up so you could plan.”
-
You walked into Hannibal’s house with the spare key he had given you. You put your bag down quietly as you heard the sound of piano through the air. It calmed you immediately. Your emotional turmoil had been something else.
There was much confusion in your brain but really you were mostly worried about both of the men in your life while also being more worried about your dogs. You had to walk them tonight but you decided to stop by Hannibal’s to see how he was doing.
You walked into the main room and Hannibal continued to play. You listened quietly, leaning against the wall. Eventually he stopped to put something else in his composition. You walked up to him and put your hands on his sweater clad shoulders. He smiled, not having to turn around to know it was you.
“That was beautiful,” you whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and looked over the composition like you understood it.
“It’s proving to be more difficult than I was hoping,” he said honestly. He grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit beside him. You did so.
“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly. He shrugged, writing in another note before turning to you.
“I feel as though that noose were still around my neck. It’s strange to have nightmares. Never used to,” he whispered. You nodded solemnly. You understood that better than most.
“You’re always welcome to call the house if you need something,” you said quietly and honestly. Your nightmares hadn’t gotten much better but you were trying to pull through at the house by yourself. Still, knowing Hannibal was there had made you feel better.
“Thank you,” he whispered back to you. You looked at the piano and then back at Hannibal. He stared at you. “I can no longer work with Jack. Or Will.” You were surprised to hear that. Then again, you should have expected it. Almost dying can do that to a person.
“What does that mean?” you whispered.
“I won’t be consulting on any cases with Jack. You’re welcome to continue to work for me and be my…” he paused, “friend but I can no longer assume that I can help Will. I can’t trust him. He’s in a dark place where the shadows move. It’s not safe to stand with him anymore.”
You looked away from Hannibal and at the wall in front of you as you processed what you were being told.
“I hope you understand that I care about you Hannibal,” you whispered, turning to him. “But I will continue to see Will.” He nodded.
“I understand.” You weren’t sure where you stood with him then.
“Play it again,” you told him, voice barely audible.
He put his hands on the keys and you imagined those hands taking a life.
It wasn’t much of a stretch.
-
Alana walked beside you as you walked the dogs. It was nice to be around them. It was almost like Will was with you at the same time. You were walking through the barren land around the house and she accompanied you upon your request.
“My head is full of conspiracies. There are too many versions of events. He said. She said. He said. He said. She said. It’s maddening,” Alana told you, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. “The one thing I have clarity on is, Will tried to kill Hannibal.”
You glanced at her.
“He believes that’s the only way to catch the Ripper.”
“And you think the same thing? I notice how you’ve gotten closer with Hannibal.” You shrugged, still sore from the last conversation you had with the man.
“Jealous?” you teased.
“You’re avoiding the question,” she whispered. “And no.”
“I think that Hannibal is more capable of senseless murder than Will. They’re both capable of murder. Will has never lied to me.” You paused. “He only lies to me when he knows I can see through him.” You turned to Alana and stopped walking. She stared back at you. “And you? Where do you stand?”
“I haven’t given up on Will. Just re-evaluating who I think he’s become.” You glanced at her.
“Will has always been this way. He just didn’t like to show it.”
-
“I feel like I’ve been watching our friendship on a split screen. The friendship I perceived on one side and the truth on the other,” Hannibal said. Will sat in his cage and stared at his former therapist. They stared at each other with a sense of competitiveness and a mix of entertainment.
“It’s a terrible feeling isn’t it?” Will asked, numbly but with a stab at Hannibal.
“You’ve been lying to me, Will.”
“I don’t have a gauge for reality that works well enough to know if I’ve been lying or not,” Will said simply. Hannibal had a sense Will had him right where he wanted him. It was impressive.
“You understand the reality of Beverly Katz’s death. You understand your role in that.”
“What was my role?”
“Beverly died at your behest. You’re as angry with yourself as you are with whoever murdered her.” Will didn’t show much emotion but spite.
“Actually, I’m not. I’m singularly angry at whoever murdered her.”
“You tried to kill me, Will. It’s hard not to take that personally. However, if I were Beverly’s murderer, I’d applaud your effort,” Hannibal said. They shared a look.
“I’m no more guilty of what you’ve accused me of than you are of what I have accused you of,” he stated simply.
“Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom and Y/N Y/L/N believe you are responsible,” Hannibal stated.
“Or Y/N Graham as the people say,” Will said simply. Hannibal fought his amusing anger. “And where does responsibility begin and end, Dr. Lecter? With a final act or the events that led to it?” Will asked.
“I don’t expect you to feel self-loathing or regret or shame. You knew what you were doing and you made your own decisions. Decisions that were under your control.” Will scoffed.
“You think I’m in control?” Will asked. “Where does Y/N stand with you Dr. Lecter?” Will stared hard. “Are you still actively pursuing her? Are you pursuing me? Or perhaps the fact that she’s still dating the man who allegedly tried to have you murdered is putting a dent in your plans.” Hannibal put his hand on his arm, holding it. The two men stared at each other, not as men competing for a woman's love but as men who were toying with the idea that there was a connection they weren’t going to sever. Hannibal hoped to cut that link despite the fact he knew it wouldn’t work.
“We were friends before I met you and I imagine we’ll be friends after we part ways.” Will smiled in arrogance of the knowledge you would likely do anything for him.
“Well I’ll be curious to see how that works out for you. She’ll tell me at her weekly visits.” Hannibal raised his chin and hardened his look.
“Good-bye Will.”
Will was not amused.
As Hannibal walked to his car he opened his phone. He dialed the top number on his phone.
“Hello,” you said, sounding distracted. “Sorry, feeding the dogs.”
“I’m throwing a dinner party tonight. You’re attending I hope.” You hummed a yes.
“Of course.” Hannibal smiled.
“I’m glad.”
-
Hannibal put his hand on your hair and fixed a piece that was out of place. You both held champagne glasses in your hands and were talking to some of his colleagues. You had been complimented on your look seven times already, twice by Hannibal.
You had yet to touch the food. You believed Will there.
Jack and Chilton spoke, watching the two of you chat.
“Prosciutto roses. Heart tartare. Beed roulade. Needless to say, I won’t be eating the food,” Chilton said.
“Dr. Chilton,” Jack chastised.
“Hannibal the Cannibal That’s what they’ll call him you know. And look at Mrs. Graham. Curiously enough I have no idea what her angle is.” Jack nodded.
“She’s always been a bit confusing.”
You laughed at something a guest was saying as Hannibal laughed about it. You were barely listening.
“I didn’t know you had a lady friend Hannibal. Are you Mrs. Lecter?” one of the ladies said. You paused which made Hannibal laugh. You hadn’t been prepared for that.
“No, I’m...we aren’t together,” you said simply although your voice didn’t sound very convincing. Jack grabbed your arm and you turned to him, surprised. “Please excuse me.”
He pulled you aside.
“Have you eaten something?” he asked. You shook your head.
“Amazing you think I don’t listen to my own boyfriend.” You stared at Chilton and shook your head. “No, I have not.”
“I’m...I can’t believe I’m telling you this... I’m listening to Will,” he said. Your mouth flew open.
“Wait a second, you can listen? You can listen to people?” you asked sarcastically. Jack gave you a look.
“I’m telling you, just in case.” You nodded and Hannibal walked over.
“Jack, I’m happy you’re here. In many ways, you are the guest of honor. You saved my life, after all,” Hannibal said, putting his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t move it. Jack made note.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay. But I’d like to take some food to go.”
You stared at him and he stared back.
Maybe Jack did listen after all.
-
You sat at the piano by yourself after the dinner party. You put your fingers on the keys and started to play the only thing you knew by heart.
Chopsticks.
Hannibal walked over and sat beside you.
“The ending to my composition has been alluding me. You may have solved my problem with Chopsticks,” he said laughing. He put his fingers on the keys and played a background to the simple tune you carried.
“If only all our problems could be solved with a simple waltz,” you said honestly. Hannibal didn’t look at you.
“I’ve walked away from Will, but I’m still trailing his accusations that you believe,” he told you.
“Alana has also walked away. You’ve both continued to make eventual fools of yourself,” you said simply, pushing a key down loudly before meeting Hannibal’s eyes.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I believe him. You know that.” Hannibal turned to you and you stared at him. Silence ensued the Lecter household. You broke the quiet.
“Would you like to stay the night?” he asked.
“Hannibal Lecter, I’m not that kind of girl,” you said laughing a bit. “But yes. I would.” You turned to him quietly and stood up, holding your hand to him. He took it and the two of you walked to his bedroom where you tossed a shirt from his dresser at him while taking one for yourself. You got dressed facing away from each other and then got into bed.
You stared at each other, hair pressed against the pillows.
“Goodnight Hannibal,” you whispered.
“Goodnight Y/N.”
You nuzzled your head into the pillow and he leaned forward. He kissed you and this time you let him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned over you. His hands caressed your hair.
You pulled away after a moment.
“I’m not that kind of girl,” you whispered back at him again. His lips were still practically touching yours as he spoke.
“I know you aren’t.”
He leaned back into his side of the bed.
“If Alana Bloom had stayed behind, this would be a different story.” Your mouth dropped open and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Wow, I’m sorry should I call her?” you asked, laughing. He shook his head.
“I prefer you. You help with nightmares.”
“It’s my magic power.”
Both of you thought about Will.
You moved forward and Hannibal wrapped an arm around your shoulder, your head on his chest. You both fell asleep to even breathing and a peaceful room.
-
You woke up, your head nuzzled into a pillow. You opened your eyes slowly and met the face of Hannibal Lecter. You had expected to see Will. Despite that disappointment you smiled at the fact that for the first time since the murder, you had a dreamless sleep.
“Peaceful sleep?” you asked. Hannibal opened his eyes, stopping from pretending to sleep.
“Yes. You?”
“No nightmares. Not even a dream,” you said dreamily. “Perhaps you have a superpower too.” The bell rang and you both looked up startled.
“The last person who rang my doorbell this early was you,” he admitted. “And it clearly isn’t you.”
He slid out of bed and put on a robe before walking to the front door. You walked to the bathroom, finding one of the old robes in there. You walked down the hallway, the sound of Hannibal's voice echoing.
“Here. All night,” Hannibal said. You rubbed your eyes.
“Anyone beside you can verify that?” You walked in without thinking, not even registering the voice as Jacks until it was too late.
“She can,” Hannibal said simply. His face flashed surprise but he tamped it quickly.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” you said but Jack shook his head.
“All I need to know is if you were here all night.” You glanced between the two and nodded simply.
“He was here all night. We both were.” You glanced at Hannibal. “I’m gonna go,” you said quietly and he nodded solemnly. You turned around but you felt four eyes on you and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.
-
You walked into your home. It still smelled like Will. Maybe Will smelled like the house. You couldn’t quite distinguish it. The dogs pooled around your feet and you pet them, glad you were back early enough to where their food schedule wouldn’t be off at all.
You fed each of them and they walked around the bowls together.
You walked to the made bed and felt guilt rise in your chest. It didn’t feel like you had cheated on Will. He knew Hannibal was pursuing you. You knew Hannibal was almost in a backwards way pursuing Will.
But still as you sat on the bed you grabbed Will’s blanket you got him for Christmas and held it to your chest. He would be back. He would sleep beside you again.
Even if you were mad at him you loved him to pieces.
You imagined you always would.
You wanted to go see him. You got up to do so when the phone rang. You picked it up on the second ring after noticing it was Jack.
“Hello?” You were nervous he was gonna bring up the morning you had had.
“I got the results of a murder that happened a few days ago. And Will didn’t kill any of the people we thought he did.” You wanted to make a sarcastic quip because duh but you just sat back down on the bed. It felt so nice to hear Jack say what you knew in your heart. You grabbed Will’s blanket with your hand without looking at it.
“Yeah?” you whispered.
He was silent as you assumed he prepped to tell you that you were right all along.
“We’ve found four lures that are almost identical to the ones we found at your house, made with materials from the exact human remains. There was no copycat. It was always the Ripper.” He paused again. “Will and you were right.”
You let out a shaky sigh and smiled widely.
“No shit,” you muttered and Jack had the heart to laugh.
“I’ll call you with the details later.” He hung up the phone and you sat on your bed and you let a few laughs of happiness out mixed with some tears of happiness.
The dogs came to you and you pet them each individually. You spoke to them in a happy tone.
“I think dads coming home.”
2x07
#hannibal lecter x reader#will graham x reader#will graham imagines#hannibal lecter imagines#hannibal lecter x reader x will graham#will graham x reader x hannibal lecter
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Second Youngest | Part Three
A/N: The final part is finally here! So sorry for the longest wait ever, but I do hope you enjoy and that I didn’t disappoint you. Lots of love! xx
Tag List: @sophieshelby @annabethgranger123 @marvelschriss @bloodorangemoonlight @chill-bee @savannah-elliott @the-number7 @mayakblack @thekillingjoke-haha @soleil-dor @theshelbyclan @erinwhelan99 @saniyaah @loveforweasleys @livingforbarnes @multi-fandom-iimagines @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyblindersengland @lucillethings @callmesunshinexx @simonsbluee @anyasthoughts
Shelby!Sister Reader
Word Count: 2483
Type: angst
---------------------------------------------
Alfie. What a man. Impressive, but so scary and intimidating at the same time. Thinking about him sent shivers down your spine, although you were never sure if in a positive or negative way.
He clearly wasn’t a good man. Not to his employees, not to his business partners, not even to himself. To you though, he was strangely kind. Kind in a way that meant he didn’t yell at you the way he yelled at Ollie. Or how he asked you to do something instead of demanding it. They were subtle things, gestures that might not stand out very much. But that didn’t mean you weren’t able to notice and appreciate them.
You’d been afraid that life would go downhill again after it had just gotten better. Your former boss was a lovely man and he had treated you more than well. When Alfie stepped into the room and introduced himself to you, your heart had sunk. He had seemed violent and messy and anything but a serious, successful entrepreneur.
Luckily, it had turned out better than expected. You knew he was into the same shady business as your family and that his ethics were more than questionable. It was painful for you to watch how he treated people, though over time you got used to it, especially since he spared you. Not once had he raised his voice at you. He even complimented you from time to time, mentioning your hard work and that he appreciated your commitment.
Of course, you would have preferred staying with your old boss. He didn’t make your skin crawl every time he entered the room. His tone has always been cheerful and motivating, the work had been morally a lot less worrying and the office had been filled with sunlight and cute little plants. Alfie’s place was dusty and dark, and you were often working by yourself.
Still – it was a hundred times better than what you had to endure in Birmingham. With your family.
Every day you wished you could write to Finn. Sweet, sweet Finn. You missed him so much. But you had to make sure that no other family member found out where you were located. And the last thing you wanted was your little brother getting in trouble because of your foolishness.
It was a stormy Thursday evening. There was still so much to do, the paperwork piling on your desk, waiting to be taken care of. Alfie hadn’t been around all day, but Ollie had come by more than once to bring you more assignments. You sighed and looked out of the tiny window up in the corner. Your office room was located underneath the bakery, hidden away from daily life and anybody who could be suspicious about what was going on behind the flour and eggs.
Suddenly, Ollie poked his head through the door frame.
You let out a scoff, loud enough for him to hear.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to bring you more work,” he defended himself, lifting his hands as if he was surrendering.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, leaning back into your chair and regretting that you had made your annoyance so obvious. Ollie was a nice guy and he asked you if he could help you with your papers every single day. Even though you declined every time, you very much appreciated it.
He leaned against the frame and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, I understand. Today was stressful.”
“Are you done?” you asked your colleague.
He nodded. “Joining me? We could get a drink somewhere.”
You let out another sigh and shook your head. “Not today. I need to get a few more things finished up before I go. I really don’t want to stay longer tomorrow.”
Ollie chuckled. “I understand. Have a nice evening, Y/N.”
He waved at you politely and then left, leaving you behind your desk with your typewriter. Before getting back to what you had been working on, you lifted your head and studied the clock. It was already seven. You decided to stay another hour.
Eight o’clock came around faster than expected. You had managed to do half of what you’d intended to, but you were starting to get incredibly sleepy, so you knew you would only start making mistakes from now on.
You pulled out the piece of paper from your typewriter, pulled open one of the drawers underneath the desk and placed it inside. Then you closed it maybe a little too forcefully, making you flinch at the slamming sound. You clearly were stressed, but the week was over soon, and you couldn’t wait to go on a relaxing trip to the countryside on Saturday. Have a picknick on the greenest field with the prettiest flowers. Enjoying the sun and gentle breeze. The smell of freedom and the calming tranquillity.
You sighed to yourself yet again, the images buzzing around in your head, and grabbed your purse. Your fingers rummaged around in it, trying to find the keys to the bakery. After a couple of seconds, they pulled out the cool metal.
You walked out of your office, closing the door and continued to the main entrance. You weren’t even halfway there, when you heard footsteps. Two, to be precise. Two steps into your direction.
You stopped in your tracks, your hand closing tightly around the keys, making them clink loudly. Slowly, you turned around, scanning the large hall.
Alfie had always promised to keep you safe. Or at least that was the reason he gave for why you were the only employee without a gun. He had said that you would never have to worry about anyone hurting you or even getting too close to you. And you had trusted him, hadn’t even questioned his decision. He had sounded so convincing, as though there was no doubt in what he told you.
Now, you regretted trusting his words. Because you knew you were the last worker to leave the shop and you were clearly not alone.
“You really thought you could outsmart us, Y/N …”
Tommy.
He had found you.
And with another step he slowly started coming out of the darkness. The distinctive sound of him clearing his throat gave you the worst case of goose bumps.
You were scared. So scared.
There was no way he’d let you go. Let you stay here.
There was no place for peace in this war. You had thought you had escaped for good. But apparently you could never escape the Shelby curse.
“H– How did you find me, Thomas?”
You could have slapped yourself right then and there. Your voice sounded pathetic and frightened. Not the impression you wanted to give off. Especially when facing your older half-brother.
He chuckled. To himself. Mockingly. “You chose Finn to help you.”
You gulped, your fingers closing even tighter around the metal in your hand, slowly beginning to hurt yourself.
“Finn only had to look me in the eyes once and I knew he was involved in your very clever escape plan,” he explained while taking another two steps towards you and fishing out a cigarette. He placed it carefully between his lips but didn’t immediately light it.
His eyes had always been very empty. Even today. Cold and empty.
The difference was, today they looked disappointed. And furious. Furious about somebody thinking they were smarter than him. Somebody thinking they could get away without facing the consequences. Somebody underestimating him. Gravely.
“And when I found out you were hiding in Solomon’s bunker, I knew I had to put an end to this foolishness of yours.”
You gritted your teeth and tried to move backwards, as discreet as possible, with a loudly thumping heart. The main entrance was facing your back and all you wanted to do was turn around and bolt. Out of the bakery and into the night. As fast as possible.
But you didn’t trust your brother. You didn’t trust Tommy not to shoot you. Because he obviously had no sympathy for you at all.
The clicking of a lighter filled the air and the cigarette between Tommy’s lips caught the flame. “A Shelby on the Solomon side of the business? You know I can’t accept that, Y/N. It’s bad for my deal and my reputation.”
You sucked in the cool air through your still gritted teeth. “Please just let me go home.”
You had wanted it to sound like a demand. But as you had expected, it had come out like a plea.
“I can’t let you do that.”
His voice was lacking every sign of emotion. Making it the scariest you had ever heard.
“I’ve done nothing wrong, Tommy.”
Another step backwards. How much more until you got to the door?
“Perhaps not maliciously, but you’ve caused a lot of trouble already and I don’t want to clean up your mess,” Tommy explained and took another drag of his cigarette.
All of a sudden, panic overcame you. Your feet started moving on their own, in direction of the exit. A rush of adrenaline overcame you, although that ended very promptly when you felt a strong hand wrap around your upper arm.
“Stop running away, Y/N,” Tommy’s growled. “I’m taking you home.”
“Home?” you yelped, struggling in his grip, trying to get him off. “Small Heath was never my home, Tommy!”
“So, you think the basement of this Jewish bastard is your home?” he huffed, tightening his grip even more.
You let out a desperate cry. “At least he made me feel welcome!”
“Shut up, Y/N,” you heard Tommy grumble, his voice coarse. Then, you heard the cocking of a gun. “I don’t want to shoot you. Please do as I say and come with me. Civil.”
Only a moment later you felt the barrel against your ribcage. Your heart stopped for an interval, trying to cope with the stress you were under. Your breath was shaky and your body stiff as a board.
“Please …” you begged again, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You knew it was stupid to show weakness, but you just couldn’t deal with it anymore. With Tommy and his obsession with power and control. With the Shelby name haunting you. With the fact that you would probably never get away. They would always find you. They would always get you back.
Suddenly, there was a door being slammed. Both yours and Tommy’s head shot up.
“Thomas, fuck off.”
“Alfie, stay out of this.”
“Stay away from my employee.”
“I said stay out of this,” Tommy repeated, pressing the gun even harder into your side. “If I shoot her, she’ll be no use to you anyway.”
Alfie, who was stood in a doorframe slightly above the ground, slowly moved down the few steps, closer to the scene. “You’re not fucking shooting my employee.”
Even though Alfie was technically defending you, you despised how they both talked about you in the most objectifying way possible.
You began twisting in Tommy’s grip, trying to free yourself, since he was now busy with Alfie’s interference. But your half-brother wasn’t one to easily get distracted.
“I’m going to fucking shoot you if you don’t stop,” he hissed, now visibly angry. Tommy aggressively pushed you towards the large main door, trying to take you out of here and with him.
“Fucking get back here, Thomas!”
Alfie started getting pissed. And you knew, that meant nothing good was going to happen.
“I said stay out of this. This is about family, not about business! We can talk business some other time.”
With that said, he forcefully threw you against the steps leading up to the exit. You fell onto your knees and hands, scraping them badly. You let a sound of pain slip out of your mouth and immediately pressed your eyes and lips together, trying to suppress any more noise and tears.
Straight away, Tommy’s gun was on your body again. This time, right against your temple. “Don’t move.”
But why should you obey? What was the benefit of obeying him? You were terrified for your life, though you’d rather be dead. Rather get shot in the head than accept the fact that you were defeated. By your family. That they had ultimately broken you.
Your mind had no time to catch up with what happened next. The only thing you were more than sure about was that a gun was fired. And a heavy weight had fallen onto you.
The scent of cigarettes and musky aftershave crept into your nose, making you realise that it was Tommy. Making you realise that the pressure on your body was Tommy and the warm liquid spreading on your clothes was blood.
You wanted to scream. And cry. But every single sound you wished to make was stuck in your throat, keeping you from breathing properly. You weren’t only trapped underneath your dead half-brother. You were trapped in your own skin, unable to move and say anything.
“Get up.”
As if nothing had happened. As if Alfie had not just shot Tommy. Demanding you to get up, while he pushed away his lifeless business partner and offering you his large, dirty hands.
And you knew crying, not accepting his offer or resisting him would do absolutely nothing for you. This life didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Either you got over this evening right away or you’d lose everything you’d fought for.
And Tommy was not worth it.
Not even a bit.
So, you grabbed Alfie’s hand and let him pull you up. You accepted the handkerchief he held out and cleaned off the blood as good as possible.
“Alfie …” you said carefully, looking up at him cautiously. “Why did you shoot him?”
He frowned. “No one fucks with my business.”
You bit your lip and handed him back the cloth. “Wouldn’t it have been better for business, if you’d just let him take me?”
He shrugged, scratching at his beard. “Maybe,” he mumbled almost incomprehensible. “Your brother–“
“Half-brother,” you corrected.
Your interruption made Alfie eye you up and down. “… half-brother used to be my favourite Shelby. Though, y’know, that may have changed over the past few months.”
You snorted, almost a little too confidently. “You’ve only just found out about my identity, Alfie.”
Your statement made him laugh, confusing you.
“You really thought I didn’t know you were a Shelby?” he asked and stepped closer to you, piercing into your eyes with his. “I know a Shelby when I see one. Even the ones that are nothing like the rest of the pack. Your true nature sits deep inside you and always will.”
Then, he backed away before turning his back on you.
“I hope you know how to hide a body, Y/N.”
He opened the door to his office and let it slam shut. Leaving you alone with Tommy.
#second youngest#shelby!sister#shelby!sis#Tommy Shelby#thomas shelby#finn shelby#alfie solomons#peaky blinders
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Tansy’s Spooky Challenge
Because the World is terrifying :D
To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.
I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.
The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:
You DON’T have to be following me to participate.
You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.
I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang
You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.
A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.
The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.
Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.
Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”
Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.
Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions
PROMPTS BELOW
Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.
List 1
Happiness
Jealousy
Nostalgia
Desperation
Fury
Triumph
Sadness
Acceptance
Fervor
Disgust
Awe
Confusion
Hope
Craving
Foreboding
Denial
Loss
Ennui
Adoration
Sympathy
Pain
Betrayal
Commiseration
Anxiety
Rancor
Determination
List 2
Sink or swim
Chokecherry
Crossroads
“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”
French vanilla
Something forgotten long ago
The shore
The eye of the storm
Bathtub
Corn hell
Down by the river
Baby’s breath
A little fire
An old saloon
Unearthed bones
On the move
Before dawn
Dead men walking
By candlelight
Frankenstein
Prima Donna
A hill about a mile outta town
First dance
Ritual
Underground
A small request
These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.
There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.
The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.
You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.
The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.
The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.
“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't
What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.
Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.
The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.
‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.
You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.
Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.
Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.
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Winter’s Doll--Chapter Four
Word Count: 3709
About: Fury arranges a fake mission for training to see how well Nadia and the team work together.
Characters: Nadia, Bucky, Clint, Fury, Tony, Wanda, Natasha, Steve, Rest of the team
Pairing: None
Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Langauge, Train fighting,
A/N: Sorry this took longer.
*This work contains content made for the 18 and up crowd
**Please do not copy and paste my work anywhere. I work too hard on all my stuff. You may, of course, share the link.
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Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife
Forever Marvel Tags: Open
Bucky/Sebastian Tags: Open
Masterlist
Marvel Masterlist
Winter’s Doll Masterlist
Chapter Three
Favorite Fics Masterlist
Over the next few weeks, Nadia slowly started to learn the ropes around the compound. No one could get out of Steve’s movies nights. No matter how much someone tried, Steve would somehow have the upper hand. Tony sometimes would stop the movie just to start a movie or order pizza and having it in another part of the compound. To be honest, Nadia would slip away and go back to her room and just have time to herself.
Bucky often found her there. The two of them would talk for a while before he would call it a night. Sometimes during the night, when Nadia would wake up to either get a midnight snack or glass of water, she would hear a door open and spy Bucky in work out gear. Natasha had told her that Bucky suffered from nightmares. Nadia felt sorry for him and wished there as something she could do to help him. Since Bucky has been a good friend and helped her with sparing stances and such in their free time.
The more time Nadia spent with Bucky, the more the awkwardness of being attracted to him faded away. Nadia obviously was still attracted to him and the ways his hands would linger on her waist or shoulders when he would corrects a stance, but it was just getting easier to channel it.
Another thing Nadia learned was that Sam Wilson is very, highly protective of his yogurt. Even if you mistake it for another yogurt on accident, Sam’s face will look like it came out of cartoon. All red and steamy. Nadia sort of found it hilarious since each encounter would either be between Bucky or Tony. A majority of the time it was Tony taking Sam’s yogurt.
Nadia didn’t forget about Tony. She ordered that glitter bomb and it was directly delivered to Tony by Pepper. Nadia wished she could have seen him open it, but seeing him yell around the compound about glitter while it stick to literally every part of his face, Nadia had to hold back her laugh.
By week four, Nadia was fitted for her tactical suit. For as tight as it looked, it was surprisingly flexible with her body movements. Steve then had her and the team do weapons training with their tactical suits on. Training with the suit on and adding weapons and gadgets made by Tony to it was it tricky. Nadia was a very close range fighter so hand guns were somewhat her thing. Knifes on the other hand, she was really good with a knife.
The gadgets that she trained with, she liked them a lot. Natasha recommended little shockers that she said could take out Bucky’s arm temporarily. When Nadia and Bucky trained again, she used exactly that on him and had him pinned down. Hands tied and gaged in seconds.
By week five, Fury called everyone to the conference room.
“I called you all here today, is that we are going to try something new,” Fury looked around the room at everyone. Clint even showed up and looked annoyed at ever. Fury must have given him no choice but to come in. Nadia felt bad for him, given Clint had a wife and kids.
“What’s that?” Steve asked tapping a pen to the table top.
“I put together a fake mission,” Fury slide a file to each of the team. “I coordinated with the FBI director to use their little town of Quantico and some of their top agents in training along with some of our own agents.”
Everyone looked at their files. Nadia saw that it was a simple retrieve hostages and information from computers. But she also knew that if Fury coordinated it, it was going to be hard as hell.
“When do we start?” Clint asked.
“As soon as you guys get your asses in gear and onto a chopper,” Fury leaned over the table. “So I suggest you get suited up pronto.”
Everyone got closed their files and walked out of the room. Fury caught Nadia’s arm. Fury’s grip was firm. “If you fail in any way shape or form, you and the team will not be going on any missions until it’s done right.”
“Oh, sir,” Nadia pulled her arm back and looked at Fury in his dark eye. “You don't have to worry about me playing nice with others. It’s your team that you have to worry about playing nice with me.” Nadia walked out of the conference room.
Once the team was in suits and geared up, they made their way to the Quinjet. Nadia strapped down as tightly as she could when Clint sat down next to her and pulled a few more inches on the straps.
“These straps are just a pain in the ass sometimes,” he said strapping into his seat.
“Thanks,” Nadia said. “How’s the family?” Nadia remembered Clint was one of the few that has a family.
“They’re good,” Clint’s eyes lit up as he started talking about his kids. The way he talked about them, Nadia knew that this man would do just about anything to make sure they were safe. He talked about how to the team his family exists but to the outside world, they don’t. They were like ghosts.
“Everyone all settled?” Natasha’s voice came from the front of the aircraft. “It’s going to be a long hour and a half flight.”
When everyone was settled and strapped in. Natasha cleared the way for take off and soon the team was up in the sky. Steve took charge and began to talk about the fake mission. You were all put in to small groups. Clint, Bucky and Nadia were one team. Steve, Natasha, and Sam were another. Tony by himself and it somewhat made sense to Nadia—Tony didn’t seem like the one to play nice with others. Wanda and Vision in another.
“Fury made your group, Nadia,” Steve looked at you guys. “You’re guys main mission is to secure the information from the hard drives. Engage if you have to and who ever has the flash drive,” Steve tossed a flash drive to Bucky. “If any of your group go down, you leave them. Get that flash drive back to the Quinjet.”
Nadia looked between Clint and Bucky. The three of them all wore the same look. Nadia was the kind of person who never left anyone behind. She felt that Clint and Bucky were the same. The three of them all agree to it, but Nadia knew of one loophole in that whole thing.
“Training weapons, made by Stark, will be provided.” Steve continued. “The guns will hold a paintball that will stun you enough to make you stay down. The retractable knives, they will have the same effect. Any weapons or gadget that isn’t lethal can be used as well. If you get hit in any of the kill zones, you’re out. Hand to hand combat is allowed but you cannot hurt them to the point they need hospitalization. We expect a broken bone or two but nothing else. So no one gets to throw anyone off the buildings or staircases.”
The flight was long and Nadia just stared at her hands as she prepared herself for this mission. Her heart beat a little fast for her comfort. Nadia tried to tell herself that she was okay and that this was just a fake mission. She’d been through nasty missions too. But for some reason she kept going back to that day where she completed her last mission and then a few short hours later her brother was killed. Nadia took a deep breath. She had to focus on the now and not the past.
The Quinjet finally landed.
When the team walked out, they saw the small little fake town around them. It looked so really and so big. But that was to help the agents in training at the academy with the reality of the job. Now, the Avengers were using it to help Nadia see how her team mates and friends worked well together.
“All the coms are on the same channels,” Natasha handed out small ear pieces. “Every thing you say will be heard and recorded.” Nadia took the small ear piece and shoved it onto her ear. She was familiar with coms like this. But it had been a few years since she had something other than earbuds in her ear.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Tony’s cocky tone was heard as they entered a small building. He was sitting in a chair eating a bag of blueberries.
“Some of us don’t have a metal suit that flies faster than our jet,” Nadia spit out. Everyone looked at her. “What,” Nadia shrugged her shoulders. “It’s true.” Clint nodded while Sam and Bucky cracked a smile.
“You two play nice,” Steve ordered both Nadia and Tony.
Steve rolled out a map of the town on a table. Everyone listened as Steve talked easy access to certain buildings and quick accesses. There were three rooms of hostages but that wasn’t Nadia’s mission. Her’s was getting in and out of a small but heavily guarded house.
“Let’s do this,” Clint unleashed his bow. The arrows he was given were fake ones. Once they hit a person they hooked onto the person and mimicked the pain of being hit by one.
Bucky pulled Nadia aside and handed her the flash drive. “You look more responsible to hang on to this.”
“And you’re not?” She teased. Clint noticed the tone change in Nadia’s voice.
“You’re smaller and faster,” Bucky said smiled while looking Nadia up and down. “Clint and I will cover your back. Also there’s a bigger chance that it’ll break with me handling it.”
Clint rose an eyebrow. “Is something going on between you two?”
Nadia and Bucky snapped their heads towards Clint. “What?” They both asked. Clint tilted his head. Was he the only one seeing this or was he finally going crazy? He pushed it off as going crazy cause it made more sense to Clint that he was going crazy. He was running on only a few hours of sleep and no caffeine.
Nadia strapped a few guns down into her holsters, grabbed a couple knives, and pocketed a few gadgets. Next, Nadia took her hair band and quickly braided her hair. She had thick hair and knew that it would both get in the way or caught on something.
The three of them began their way towards the house they needed to get in and out of. Nadia suggested they stay as low profile as possible. Any back alley ways and such to make sure they stay away from any of the fighting that would occur.
Well that plan didn’t last long.
The trio turned a corner and found themselves face to face with a small group of people dressed up in red suits. They tried to backtrack but another small group sandwiched them. With their backs to each other—Bucky had a gun ready, Clint had an arrow already secured on his bow bring, and Nadia had a knife in her hand while a free on was reaching for a smoke bomb in her back pocket.
“Nadie,” Bucky used Nadia’s nick name. “Remember what I said. Small and fast. We got this.”
“About that,” Nadia slowly said taking the pin off the smoke bomb. Nadia dropped the smoke bomb behind her and in three second the three of them were surround by grey smoke.
They made their way towards the open street while fighting whoever got in the way. Once in the open, a red suit tackled Nadia to the ground. With a simple head butt, the red suit rolled off her and prepared to charge her again. But a red glow pulled the red suit back and into the nearest window.
Nadia looked over to see Wanda standing there. “Thanks,” Nadia said and Wanda disappeared out of sight.
Bucky and Clint fought a few more red suits before they were free. Then the trio was back on track. While they jogged towards the house, without any mishaps, they listened to the others in their coms. It seemed like the all the fighting was near the others where the all the hostages were.
“Quick thinking back there,” Clint said. “I’ve been told you’re pretty good.”
“I wouldn’t say pretty good,” Nadia said sheathing the blades in her hands.
“She’s a badass,” Bucky grabbed Nadia’s shoulder gently. “She pretty much kicked all our asses during her initial training.”
Nadia felt her cheek flush pink. She wasn’t used to this kind of recognition. “Let’s focus on the mission,” she said giving the two men a look.
“Yes ma’am,” the both answered.
The trio somewhat made it to the house. They were a few houses down and saw that it looked less than heavily guarded but more of the guards were probably in side. Leaning back on the house, the three came up with a plan.
“Clint you can get them from high ground, Nadie and I will go right through the door,” Bucky said,
“Or we you and I can lure them outside and have Nadia slip inside,” Clint suggested.
“How about we just simply walk up and pretend to offer ourselves up?” Nadia reached into her pocket and pulled out some of those little shockers. “We get close enough and throw these on them. It’ll shock them enough to knock them out. Giving us enough time to get in and out.”
The men agreed to it and pocketed the little shockers and did just that.
They walked up straight up to the house with their hands raised. Over the coms they heard that one group of hostages were safe and secure. Two of the guards drew their guns on the trio.
“Woah,” Nadia said smiling. “We’ve come to give ourselves up.”
“What are you guys doing?” Steve’s voice can be heard in her ear. “This isn’t the time to play games.”
But the trio ignored him.
“Yeah,” Clint said to Nadia’s right. “We’re the smart ones and know when there’s a lost cause.”
“Tony,” Steve’s voice is heard again. “Fly over and check on them.”
“Kind of busy at the moment, Cap,” Tony answered back.
“When you’re done.”
The two guards stared at the trio and then exchanged looks. They spoke something in Spanish. Nadia could only make out a few things. Tie them up. Use as bait. Wipe the drive. Nadia lowered her hands and slowly reached into her pockets. In one easy movement she activated the shockers and tossed them directly on the two mens chests. They shook and fell to the ground.
“I do not want to be shocked by on of those,” Clint said lowering his hands. “Cause I’m sure that one shit his pants.”
“It hurts like a mother fucker,” Bucky chimed in. “She used one on me during training and it took my arm out for like two hours.”
They approached the doors and Bucky kicked the door down. He and Clint went in holding the guns the picked up off the ground. They gave the all clear and Nadia walked in. There were three men who looked up from their phones. They got up and drew their weapons. Bucky and Clint shot them down before anything can be done.
“Looks like the computer is upstairs,” Nadia notices cords running up the staircase.
“I got you,” Bucky said.
“I’ll down here,” Clint called after the two who were already going up the stairs.
Once at the top of the stairs, Bucky and Nadia took down the four men and one woman who tackled them. Once they were done, Bucky was uninjured while Nadia wiped blood from her nose. She had been head butted by the woman before she was able to shoot her point blank in the chest.
“You okay?” Bucky asked
“Yeah,” Nadia responded as she pulled herself up to the computers. “Shit.” She said when she saw that they started to delete files. She tried to stop it as best as she could but nothing she tired worked.
“What?” Bucky asked leaning next to her.
“Tony,” Nadia ignored Bucky. “Walk me though hacking and stoping these files from being deleted.”
“What’s in it for me?” Tony asked. The cockiness just rolling out of his mouth.
Nadia huffed. “You can call me Alexis for the rest of this mission.”
“I thought that was your dead brother’s name or something,” Tony countered.
“I lied okay, his real name was Nikola, sorry,” Nadia continued to try and retry her options that came to mind. “Now will you help me? I’m losing files here and it’ll be your fault that we fail.”
“Deal.”
In no time, Tony was on the second floor balcony. He walked in and out of his suit. “What do we have?” Nadia stepped aside and watched Tony type away at the computer. He held his hand out and Nadia handed him the flash drive.
“Um, guys,” Clints voice called from the first floor. “We got a military hummer headed out way.”
“You also have a group headed your way too.” Natasha said. “How much time do you need?”
“Just a few minutes,” Tony responded. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, go help Legolas down there.” Bucky didn’t move as he stared down at Tony. “I got this, and I’ll make sure Alexis is perfectly safe.”
“Go, Bucky,” Nadia said ad Bucky reluctantly made his way down the stairs.
Nadia pulled a gun out and stood with her back to Tony. Nadia started to have some flash backs of the night her brother died in the that explosion. She knew she had to kick the memory out of her head but she kept seeing herself up in that room. Peeking through the window. Standing between the door and her brother with a loaded gun. Then when things had quieted down, the explosion happened.
“Aha!” Tony’s cheer snapped Nadia back. “Got it all back and onto the flash drive.” Tony got up and handed the drive back to Nadia. “I’ll give you a ride back to the jet so you can secure it.”
“What?” Nadia asked.
Then something crashed downstairs. Yelling and shooting started. Nadia went to race down stairs but Tony caught her arm. “Remember you need to secure this thing.”
“What about Bucky? Clint?”
“I got their back,” Tony walked Nadia to the Iron Man suit. “Get in.”
“What?” Nadia looked between Tony and the now open suit in front of her. “But I can’t control that thing.”
“It has auto pilot,” Tony pushed Nadia into the suit and suddenly felt claustrophobic. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Get her back to the jet and get back here.”
“Yes, boss,” the female computer voice started Nadia. Soon the suit was in the air. Nadia felt everything in her body shift about with ever twist and turn the suit made. Nadia hated every second of it. “Here we are Miss Alekiev,” the AI said.
“Thanks,” Nadia getting out of suit. Soon, the suit was out of sight.
“Nadia,” Natasha’s voice was behind her. Nadia turned to see her voice. “Give me the drive. I’ll secure it.”
Nadia tilted her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Steve and the rest of your group?” she asked.
“I told them I would meet you here,” Natasha took a step forward and held out her hand. Her posture made Nadia cautious of her intentions.
“No,” Nadia said drawing her gun. “I was told to secure it myself.”
“You can trust me,” Natasha smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile and that’s when Nadia noticed it. Natasha was hold one of the electric bows. It was powered in and Nadia could see hear the hum of electricity coming off it. “Now put the gun down.”
Nadia slightly lowered the gun and shot at Natasha’s leg. The red paint from the paintball splattered everywhere. Natasha cried out and hit the floor.
“Son of bitch that hurts,” she moaned.
Nadia thought quickly and opened one of the lock boxes and stuffed the flash drive in there. Before Nadia could shut it and lock it in place, Natasha smacked her with her bow. Nadia fell to the group with a groan.
“Guys,” Nadia groaned. “Nat’s been compromised.”
“On our way towards you,” Clint said.
Natasha bent down and with a painful grimace on her face, she picked up the lock box and stood up. Nadia felt for her blade and once it was in hand she jumped to her feet and threw it at Natasha. The blade, obviously retracted and hooked onto Natasha’s tact suit in the middle of her back. Without a sound, the lock box fell to the ground and so did Natasha. The pain very much visible on her face. Nadia took the lock box and put it back where she got it from and safely secured it.
“Sorry Nat,” Nadia knelt next to her friend. “You gave me no choice.”
“I would have done the same thing,” Natasha groaned.
The mission ended shortly after that. Natasha was ‘taken’ in for questioning while the rest of the team was ‘debriefed.’ That was going out for lunch courtesy of Tony. Everyone was congratulated with a nice round of whiskey.
When everyone was back at the jet and strapped in for the ride, Bucky came and st next to Nadia. “You did good today,” he strapped in and smiled at her. “You’ll have to tell me more about you training.”
“Another day,” Nadia rested her head back. Natasha hit her pretty hard. “I’m beat and need sleep and maybe a hot bath.”
Back at the compound, Nadia locked herself in her room and started herself a nice warm bath. Lowering herself into the warm water, Nadia closed her eyes and instead of seeing blackness and letting the lavender smell take over, she saw fire and debris. Eyes, snapping open, Nadia gasped for air. Why couldn’t she get her brother’s death out of her head? But Nadia knew exactly why. She knew there was something fishy about her brother’s death. Something the government didn’t want her to know.
#Winter's Doll Story#Shy's Marvel Masterlist#Mavel#Marvel family#Marvel fandom#Marvel Fanfiction#Marvel fanfic#marvel daily#marvel imagine#Marvel Cinematice Universe#MCU fanfiction#mcu family#mcu fandom#mcu fanfic#mcu daily#mcu imagine#bucky barnes#the winter soldier#sebastian stan#bucky barnes x reader
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Flesh & Blood | Part Three
Series Summary: A mysterious stranger with ties to your past shows up in your small village
Chapter Summary: now you know the truth about the mysterious stranger, but there's still more to learn
Pairing: Count Dracula x reader
Word Count: 2493
Warnings: mentions of blood, death
A/N: as always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) if you want to be added to the taglist let me know (please note I cant reply to comments using this blog)
Masterlist | Part Two
- - - - -
“I will never understand why he spared me, but I feel this is not the last I will see of the count”
You finish reading Sister Y/N’s story and close the journal, moving it back across the table to Zoe without saying a word. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, this was a lot to take in.
You both sit in silence for a moment, Zoe allowing you to process what you had read. After a few minutes you finally speak.
“Do you know where he is now?” You ask quietly.
“not exactly no” she admits “the last we saw him he was on the beach last night. We had him, well we thought we had him but he killed a young lady and escaped. We haven’t seen him since.”
“What does he look like?” You twiddle your thumbs nervously, afraid that her answer will confirm your suspicions.
“Tall, pale skin, black hair. Nothing to suggest he’s anything other than a normal man, but his eyes. There’s something about his eyes, they’re just so…”
“Dark” you finish her sentence and look at her “he was here, this morning he was here in the cafe. He knew my name. I convinced myself he just read it off my name tag but I don't think he did. The way he said it, it was as if he knew me.”
“Have you seen him since?” Her face is serious.
“No…” you shake your head but then remember “wait yes, yes while I was eating my lunch he was there. Outside, he was watching me from under the tree. I saw him for just a moment but then he was gone. I thought I had imagined it”
“Right okay, we need to get you away from here. I thought we’d have longer before he found you-” Zoe says as she starts typing fast on her laptop.
“Why did he find me? What does he want from me?”
“I don't know. But he’s a murderous vampire so chances are he wants your blood.”
“Oh my God I feel sick” you rest your head in your hands, trying to take deep breaths as you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Zoe’s phone rings and she answers.
“Hello? Yes. Where? Okay I’ll be right there” she hangs up the phone and quickly packs her stuff away, standing up. “They’ve found him.”
“Where is he?” You shoot your head up to look at her.
“In a house not far from here, I’m going there now. A car will be here soon to pick you up and bring you in”
“In where?” You ask as she heads to the door.
“The research facility where I work. You’ll be safe there.”
“No I cant go, what about my job? What about Maggie?” You ask frantically and Zoe walks over to you and takes your hand.
“It’s you he wants. Maggie, and everyone else in this village will be safer if you are not here.”
You look into her eyes, searching for answers but she turns and leaves you standing in the middle of the empty cafe. You bring your hands up to your head, running your fingers through your hair as you try to make sense of all this.
Five minutes later you see a car pull up outside and a man steps out, walking into the cafe.
“Ms Y/L/N?”
You nod your head.
“I work with Dr Van Helsing, she sent me to collect you.” He walks back outside and opens the back door waiting for you. You walk out the cafe and you're about to climb into the car when Maggie comes running down the street.
“Y/N? What’s going on? Where are you going?” She shouts as she gets closer.
“It’s okay Maggie, I’ll explain everything as soon as I can. I promise.” You walk over to her and give her a hug “if you see the man from this morning, I need you to run. Okay? Promise me.” you whisper in her ear before pulling away. She looks at you confused but nods her head. You get in the car and watch her from the window as you drive away, leaving her stood outside the cafe alone.
“Excuse me, where are we going?” You ask tentatively and the driver looks at you through the rear view mirror.
“The Jonathan Harker Foundation”
— — — —
About an hour later the car pulls up outside a magnificent old stone building surrounded by what looks like the remains of a castle. The driver opens the door and you get out the car, following him through the main entrance of the building.
The interior of the building doesn’t match the outside, its too modern. The corridors are busy with people in lab coats, some look anxious while others look excited. You’re led through them till you arrive at a set of doors where a smartly dressed woman is waiting for you.
“Y/N. I’m Dr Bloxham” she holds her had out to shake yours and you notice her other hand is bandaged up “we’re just about to start, come through”
She pushes the door open and holds it for you. You walk through into a big room set out like a lecture hall, no more than 20 people sat dotted around all dressed in the same medical looking outfits. She gestures for you to take a seat and you do, choosing to sit near the back. She walks to the front of the room and gives a brief introduction before a video starts playing on the screen. Two divers are seen looking at a box amongst what looks like a ship wreck under the sea. The box is opened to reveal a man lying dead. The camera gets closer to his face and your heart skips when you realise that the man in the box is the same man who came to the cafe this morning. As the video continues playing Dr Bloxham resumes talking.
“As you can see, even after 123 years the body was perfectly preserved…” she pauses as the diver on screen lifts the man’s lips to show his teeth “or so we thought.”
Suddenly the man’s eyes move and he bites down on the diver’s fingers. Gasps and groans of shock murmur through the room as blood is seen spreading in the sea. You clasp your hand up to your mouth suppressing the urge to scream. You don't want to watch but you cant take your eyes off the horror on the screen.
“The body was not preserved. Dracula was in fact alive, though dormant. Apparently in some kind of restorative coma, in which he would have remained if I hadn’t have been stupid enough to feed him. So in case you're wondering, yeah…” she holds up her bandaged hand “vampires bite.”
Your heart is pounding and your head is spinning. You feel sick.
You stand up and quietly leave the room through the same doors you entered. You start walking quickly through the corridors, trying to find a way out but as you turn a corner you bump into Zoe.
“Ah Y/N. Just the girl I was looking for.” She notices the look of panic on your pale face “Are you alright, what’s wrong?”
“I, I just. I cant, I cant…” you try to talk through your frantic breaths “I need to go”
She takes your shoulders in her hands and turns you so she’s looking in your face.
“Listen to me. Y/N. You are safe. We have him, he’s locked up. He cant hurt you” she continues looking at you as you slowly start to breathe normally. “Come with me” she leads you off in a different direction and you end up outside a large metal door with a big circle handle in the middle, like the ones you would find on a submarine. Above the door are three clocks. One shows the current time and the other two are labelled as sunrise and sunset.
Zoe opens a small window in the door and takes a quick look inside before gesturing for you to have a look. You peer through the window and there he is, the man you now know to be a centuries old vampire. Count Dracula.
He is stood in the middle of a large glass box, looking rather confused at the toilet that is in there with him. Around the room multiple armed guards are placed, all closely watching his every move.
“You see? He is contained, there is nothing to worry about.” Zoe reassures and you let out a small sigh of relief. Suddenly Dracula tuns and looks straight at you, lifting his hand to wave as he smiles charmingly. You take step away from the window and look at Zoe.
“Does this mean I can go home now? If he’s here then I can go right?”
“Well, we would like you to stay. We think you could really help us. But we can’t force you to do anything you don't want to do”
You look down for a moment thinking then slowly raise your head to look back at her.
“I want to go home”
Zoe looks slightly disappointed but nods in understanding.
“Okay, I’ll get the driver to take you back. But if you do want to come back at any time, here’s my number” she hands you a small piece of paper with her number on and you put it in your pocket.
— — — —
The car pulls up outside your home and you thank the driver before getting out and heading straight to your door. As you take your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door you take a look back at the village. It’s evening now so from the top of the hill all you can see is a sea of lights in the darkness. You head inside and crash down onto the sofa. You're exhausted. Then you remember Maggie and you go to grab your phone but remember you left it in your bag which is still behind the counter in the bakery. You groan and stand up, pulling your coat and shoes back on and leaving the house.
After the day you’ve had a walk in the fresh evening air actually feels really good. You reach the bakery and pull your key out which thankfully you kept attached to your house keys which you always kept in your coat pocket. You find your bag exactly where you left it and pull out your phone. 51 missed calls and a whole lot more messages, mostly from Maggie. She must be worried sick. You close up the bakery again and begin your walk back home, typing a text message as you walk.
‘Hi Maggie, I’m so sorry about this afternoon and I’m even more sorry that I made you worry. I’m okay. I’ll explain everything to you tomorrow once I’ve had a good sleep. Love you xxx’
As you're about to send the message your phone starts ringing, the caller ID is a number you don't recognise so you decline the call. Almost immediately it rings again, so you decline again. Your phone rings for a third time and you decide to answer just to get them to leave you alone but before you say anything you hear Zoe’s voice on the other end.
“Y/N! Where are you right now? Are you in your house?”
“No I’m walking home now, I had to head back to work to get my phone-“
“Get home right now and don't answer the door, do not invite anyone in. Do you understand?” She interrupts, sounding worried.
“Yes… but why? What’s happening?” You ask and you can hear shouting in the background, Zoe doesn’t respond. “Zoe? Whats going on?”
“He’s out. Count Dracula we let him go.”
Your heart drops to your stomach and you begin walking faster.
“His lawyer showed up and threatened us, we had no choice”
“his lawyer?” You question but she ignores you.
“Just get home now. I’m on my way to you” she hangs up the phone and you stick it back in your pocket, again picking up your speed while also trying to remain as calm as possible. But you cant help but feel on edge, the hairs on the back of your next standing up as every little noise and shadow makes you jump.
You swear you can hear footsteps behind you but every time you turn around nothing is there. You walk even faster. You hear a noise behind you and glance over your shoulder as you begin running. Then bang. You run into someone and hear a glass smash.
“you should watch where you're going” the bloke slurs. You try to just push past him and carry on running but he holds you in place “where do you think you're going, you owe me a drink” and leans in close. You can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Look I’m sorry about the drink but I really need to go” you break free but he grabs your wrist, pulling you into the dark alley next to the pub “Get off me!” You protest and he pushes you hard against the brick wall, his booze drenched body pinning you in place as the back of your head starts to throb from the impact.
“You owe me for that drink”
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow I promise-”
“I can think of a way you can pay me back right now” he presses his disgusting mouth against yours and you try your hardest to push him away but he’s at least twice your size. His hands wonder and he starts lifting your top up.
You lift your knee up to make direct contact with his balls and he stumbles back in pain, clutching himself as he doubles over. You take this opportunity to make a run for it but he grabs your arm just before you’re free.
“You're gonna regret that, bitch!” He spits, pulling you back to him.
“Actually…” a familiar voice interrupt “you're the one who’s going to regret your actions”
In a flash of movement Dracula is stood behind the drunk holding him still as he releases his grip on your arm “then again, you're not to be alive long enough to regret anything” he swishes his hand across the man’s neck and blood behind to pour out. You jump backwards in shock. Dracula releases him and he slumps to the floor, his eyes fixed on you as he bleeds out. Dracula starts to walk towards you and you try to run but you trip and fall to the floor, banging your head once again. You roll onto your side, clutching your head with your hand and groaning in pain. In your blurry vision you see Dracula slowly approach you before crouching down so he’s close to you.
“Don't worry Y/N, I’ll take care of you”
Part Four
Taglist: @agent-smulder @kandomeresbitch @a-dorky-book-keeper
#dracula#bbc Dracula#Dracula bbc#dracula netlifx#Claes Bang dracula#dracula imagine#dracula fanfic#Dracula x reader#Claes Bang x reader#Claes Bang imagine#Claes Bang fanfic
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Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader
Tags: Teen and up audience, Post-timeskip, Canon divergence, Coffee Shops, Meet-cute, Fluff, Musician Semi, University student reader, POV changes
Word Count: 6.6K
Summary: In which a broken coffee machine leads you to meet an attractive musician also inhabiting the only coffee shop near campus open at an ungodly hour. The lack of sleep and the stress of your assignment are eased by the nonsensical tunes the unknown musician struggles to compose a significant song. Unknowingly, you both indirectly help each other through mental roadblocks and inspire him to write a hit song. It wasn't until your next fateful meeting that you were able to thank each other.
Current situation aside, you were usually a diligent student. You preferred to finish an assignment at least a full 24 hours before editing and submitting it, rather than leaving it to the last minute and handing in a half-assed attempt. However, this one particular assignment that had crawled from the bowels of hell was the exception to your characteristic conscientiousness. The assignment had blindsided you, slipping under your radar as other more pressing assignments drew your attention away from it. Much like an ignored weed problem, under your wilful neglect it compiled into an unimaginable mess. There was no possible way for you to get this done without pulling a soul-sucking all-nighter.
Another exception to your quickly spiralling out-of-control life was the fact that your prized coffee marker in all its shiny black plastic glory after five long years has finally turned in its resignation of being used and abused by you. So not only were you frantically rushing this twenty-one-page report due in not even eight hours, your one source of liquid determination is completely off the books.
Standing before the hunk of useless machinery refusing to even turn on, you stood there in silence as you mourned the loss of a good friend and an alright cup of coffee every morning. This did not help your current situation and you knew that you would not make it without some form of caffeine and you refuse to take the final dive into the uni student life and take no-doze tablets.
No, you refuse go that low just yet.
Although they are starting to sound tempting as the harsh wind tugs at your clothing and nips at your skin like you weren’t wearing two layers in the middle of normally warm Spring night to make a trip to the only local coffee shop you knew of open at this ungodly hour of 2 am. A faint orange glow grows steadily larger with each hurried step. You rushed to both get out of the wind and continue the futile act of completing your assignment to a decent enough standard to pass the subject.
The high expectations you entered the semester with had all but been eviscerated at this point. You would be outrageously thankful to pass at this stage in the semester.
As you push through the door, you crush the unwanted thought of your academic score plummeting. Oh well. Que sera, sera.
Glancing around the small and dimly lit establishment, you were surprised to note that it wasn’t deserted. In total, there were three people inside, excluding yourself. Two being workers and the other being a figure sequestered to the distant corner of the small cosy shop.
Behind the counter sat a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone and a person with a very familiar face wiping down the benches.
“Jin! I didn’t expect to see you at this hour.” You exclaim while walking up to the counter while simultaneously fishing out your purse from your bag.
Said brunette turned at your voice, smiling when he sees that his ears didn’t deceive them.
“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you right now, either.” He grins amiably.
You had to give it to him, even at 2 am, his friendly smile put your stressed heart at ease. That was the true power of one Jin Soekawa, asides from the heavenly caffeinated ambrosia he concocted.
“Yeah, well if my coffee machine didn’t abandon me in my darkest hour, believe me when I say I’d be at home in my pajamas.”
Jin laughs as he rings your total up without question and starts the process of making your usual order. A perk of visiting at least three times a week was getting to know the friendly day baristas. Placing the exact amount of change on the counter, you move down the counter to catch Jin’s words.
“I never took you for a night-owl.” You scoff and shake you head at him, noting the teasing glint in his dark eyes.
“I’m not,” you bemoan, “this is punishment for putting off a big assessment and thinking it wouldn’t take long to finish. And to top it all off, my main source of night-late fuel ditched me.”
Jin nods sympathetically at your whining, not wanting to disturb the other regular shop patron in his also stressed-fueled all-nighter.
“No one with sense would be up at this hour working.” The angry-looking brunette you’ve never seen before mutters loudly.
Jin looks at the male, thick eyebrows furrowed reproachfully. You raise your eyebrow at Jin, wondering if he always had to burn the midnight oil with someone that looked like they were ready to quit and walk out at any second.
“Don’t mind Yunohama, he’s just pissed that he got tricked into the graveyard shift by the manager along with me.”
His cheery tone contrasted greatly to the gloom surrounding Yunohama. Smothering the laugh that wanted to come out at their polar opposite personalities, you instead turn to cough quietly into your hand.
Your gaze locked with chocolate brown irises that even at this distance, you could tell were mesmerising. The male’s eyes widen as he realises he was caught staring at you and quickly turns away and busies himself with the papers littering the table.
Well that was odd.
You stared at the back of his head full of shoulder-length ash-blond hair, waiting for him to turn back around. After a beat, you shrug to yourself and turn back to a busy Jin.
“Do you mind if I grab a seat and start on my work?” You point a thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the seating area.
Jin nods his head and gives a cheery smile that didn’t fit the sleepy night-time atmosphere.
“Sure! I’ll bring it over when it’s done. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”
Shooting him a thumbs up, you hike the bag strap further up your shoulder and select a table to slowly lose your mind at. You end up choosing one that was about three tables away from the stranger, not wanting to intrude upon his stressed-out vibes. From the short glimpse you caught of his face, he seemed quite attractive. If you weren’t as tired or stressed as you currently were, you might have had the guts to sit closer and sneak subtle glances, but the sword of Damocles currently swung menacingly above your head.
As you walk over, you notice a dark blue Ashton-branded acoustic guitar leaning against the chair on his lap. You also notice him frantically scribbling down on paper, pausing and then staring at the paper like it insulted him. You file this in the back of your mind, saving it for a later time.
You almost felt sorry for the odd guy. If it weren’t for the burden of your laptop holding an unfinished assignment due in exactly seven hours now, you would spare some sympathy. Sighing, you plop yourself in the seat and quietly go about setting yourself up. Logging into your laptop, the not even half-filled word document met your weary gaze. God, even with the smell of coffee and warmth surrounding you, no motivation welled up like you hoped it would. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for a long night-slash-morning.
Focused on your work, you failed to notice Jin coming over with your order, sitting it out of the way of your work with a quiet “good luck” . The cup of hot coffee was left forgotten as a decent-sounding ideas flashed through your mind unprompted. It was safe to say that by the time you did notice and started drinking it, it was lukewarm.
Grimacing after taking the first sip, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling to give your eyes a break. A soothing tune of random string plucking fills the air. For a brief second, you were confused as to when background music started playing, only to realise it was coming from the hot guy you caught staring at you earlier.
Attracting your attention, you glance over to his table. The guitar was now propped against his lap and lovingly cradled in his arms. The position accentuated his biceps partially concealed by white cotton V-neck tee, not that it stopped your appreciative looks. Fluorescent pink guitar pick in hand, the ash-blond musician continues to strum a few nonsensical tunes that your stress-filled mind failed to name.
As if remembering your existence, he whips his head around to meet your interested gaze. Flustered at finding you already staring at him, the male holds his hands out in a placating gesture.
“I’m so sorry! I should have asked if you were okay with me playing. I mean the baristas said it was okay but that was before you came in…” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head.
Giving him a friendly smile, you shake your head.
“No, don't apologise. It’s fine.” You assure him. Immediately, the tension drains from his features. Man, the poor guy must have dealt with his fair share of assholes to respond so visibly at the prospect of pissing people off by playing out loud. That had to suck.
“Besides, who am I to deny the arts?” You continue, lazily waving your hand in the air.
He laughs at your unusual response, hands settling back into their designated positions on the instrument. The sound was completely unexpected. You sat there in shock as the rich-sounding rumble rolls through the air. Sure he was good-looking but damn, to have a nice deep voice on top of all that? He was truly blessed. To top it off, he gives you a smile that should be outlawed for how attractive he is.
Damn, awkward music guy was hot.
The belated thought had you flustered. Hiding behind your hand as you brush back hair out of the way, you recompose yourself. Meeting his gaze once again, you notice a twinkle that you didn’t spot before, confirming your initial suspicion of his eyes being mesmerising.
Blinking yourself out of the stupor, you inwardly scold yourself for staring at the poor dude that didn’t come here to get stared at by someone dressed in comfy clothes and a whole collection of lilac bags under their eyes.
Ignoring the questioning look you receive at your odd facial expression you unintentionally made, you turn back to your laptop and dive head-first into the report. It was a nice escape from the embarrassment that wanted to choke you at acting like you’ve never seen an attractive person before.
God your tired self was an embarrassment.
He continues on playing the guitar, now strumming out a soft lingering song that soothed your frazzled mind and weirdly energised you to keep going.
From the very moment that you stepped across the threshold, bringing with you a wisp of chilled air that nipped at his nose, Eita could pick that you were an overworked university student.
Your lilting voice filled his ears as you had a friendly chat with the amicable barista. He ignored the noise as he stared at the blank manuscript paper before him, frustration bubbling within him. This was the seventh attempt at writing the final song for their break-out album in just as many days. An invisible clock hovered over his head as the hours tick by, closer and closer to the deadline their production manager had set.
The other songs came so freely to him - serving as an outlet for the experiences he’s had or heard about from close friends and family. But this last song? It fought against him tooth and nail, refusing to be put on paper. Eita had a vague concept and a tune, but the words evaded him. That was the most frustrating part really, but it happened to the best musicians so it shouldn’t surprise him that writer’s block finally hit him like a truck on a foggy night. Hard and seemingly out of nowhere.
Eita wanted the final song on their first album to be about his last relationship, as conceited as it may sound to some. He found it was the best way to close that messy chapter of his life. It was never fun to be strung along whilst your partner was looking at - loving - another, and yet refusing to let him go. Plus, people love break-up songs and their up-and-coming band needed something to round out the alternative rock songs they usually played.
Fragmented and incomplete thoughts filled his mind as you continued chatting, now with the mean-looking barista joining in. Easily pulling his attention from the anger-inducing blank white space, Eita gets a good look at you now that you're standing closer. Wearing comfy-looking clothes and a tired expression, you looked like the poster child for the average student and yet Eita felt inexplicably drawn towards you like a magnet to its opposing pole.
Unexpectedly, you turn towards him, catching him in the act of checking you out. Eyes clear despite the tired lines etching into your face, lips pulled into a slight smile that had his heart miss a beat. Okay, wow. Maybe he’s been out of the dating scene for far too long to react like that. Breaking the eye contact, Eita whirls back around in his seat and starts messing with the papers spread before him to feign being busy.
A hot blush seared across his cheeks as he mentally groans at his inappropriate behaviour. The cute university student probably thought that he was a creep now, great. While Eita wanted to do nothing but bury his head into his hands and scream until his throat was raw, the blank page laying innocently there taunted him.
God damn it. He hadn’t felt this frustrated and inadequate since high school. No one wanted to revert to their high school selves. Scrubbing at his eyes, all Eita wanted from tonight was a simple song, that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. Yet it still felt like a herculean task. The picture of his ex with a fake expression of hurt rises to forefront of his mind unbidden.
Ah yes, there were other times he'd experienced this intense frustration. It hurt to walk away from the first real relationship he’d been in, but she was bad for him in a lot of ways that he was blind. That was until his friends lifted the rose-tinted love goggles and pointed out each and every red flag he had missed.
Suddenly, Eita was struck with the perfect words to encompass the maelstrom of emotions within him, namely bitterness and helplessness.
Not wanting the words escape him , Eita captures them with frantic hands. Scared of their ephemeral nature, here one second and gone the next. Those few words grew into a verse, much to Eita’s elation. He still needed a chorus and an outro, but the intro was looking fine and Eita knew not to push his luck.
Reaching for his guitar and pulling a pick from his jean pocket, he gives his prized possession a quick strum. Judging it in-tune, a few warm-up melodies are played as his hands move without much thought.
Looking back at the sheet of paper sitting before him, incomplete but much better than before, he suddenly notices that the sound of your rapid typing in the background has stopped. Panicked at annoying yet another person angry at the world, Eita turns around quick enough to instill the fear of whiplash.
Met with your inquisitive look, he’s glad to see that you’re not frothing with rage like how some of the less-forgiving people get with his playing. After awkwardly apologising, he concludes you’re not mad in the slightest, instead giving him a weird response and shrugging off his disjointed apology.
There was definitely more than meets the eye with you. Even while being obviously exhausted, you were still kind to him, a stranger, while rushing to complete what he can only assume to be an assignment of some sort. From the short conversation, he couldn’t get a proper gauge for your personality, although he somehow just knew that you would have the most fascinating stories to share.
Eita fails to notice your flushed cheeks due to his laughter, instead he was admiring how your eyes wrinkled at the corners as a smile lit up your entire face. It was entirely too cute for him.
Abruptly, you turn away from him and return to your work, eyes fixed on the screen and furiously typing and clicking away across the room. Bewildered at your sudden change in mood, Eita leaves you be. Following your example, Eita turns back to his own business. There was a reason that he was in a deserted coffee shop in the dead of night, or more like morning at this point. He had work to do and a lot of it.
Despite that, he couldn’t help his eyes straying towards your figure as he strums out one of the first songs he learnt on guitar. From the corner of his eye, Eita notices at how the harsh light of your laptop highlights the exhaustion the soft lights of the shop smoothed out. Concerned at how tired your eyes looked, Eita knew that the coffee you sipped at was not doing its job to chase away the threads of tiredness that threatened to pull you under.
His examining looks go unnoticed by you, surprise, surprise. From what he overheard earlier, it’d make sense that a final assessment would take precedence over one’s self-awareness, not that he knew what that felt like. From how exhausted and slightly panicked you looked, he was glad he didn’t submit to his parents pestering, instead filing straight into the work force while he worked on his aspiring music career.
A sudden scene took his mind hostage, not letting him go until he payed it attention. Muses were odd like that, one minute he was daydreaming about his life’s choices and the next he sees you physically deflate in your chair as you hit a mental roadblock as he blows past his.
Hand possessed with words that filtered so fast through his mind, he couldn’t afford to process them as he messily tries to immortalise them onto paper before they leave him forever. Like the opening of flood gates, abstract scenes flash before his mind’s eye, constructing an intricate life for the unknown person before him and likening them to moments in his own life. You looked tired, overworked and under pressure to complete whatever you were toiling over.
Eita vaguely wonders what brought you to this coffee shop at this god forsaken hour. Was your roommate being too loud? Were you working through a bout of insomnia? Maybe you wanted to get some decent coffee while getting ahead in your course?
Whatever the reason, Eita is thankful for the pure happenstance it was for fate to place you before him. Before you showed up, exasperation was clouding his mind and creating minute tremors his hand. It was never a good mindset to have when puzzling together a significant song for both his band and his own closure.
Slowly, the disjointed verses and chords became stanzas and melodies, forming a fully-fleshed out song before his eyes in what seemed like a blink of an eye, but was most likely a few hours. Reading over the words and chords, Eita mentally sings the verses and then hums the chords out loud, checking that it flowed and it wasn’t a chaotic mess like the last iterations turned out to be.
Smiling at the fruits of his labour, Eita mentally pat himself on the back for persevering and not caving into his band mate’s insistent offers of assistance. They were all versatile in this industry and each had multiple roles within their rag-tag group. The least Eita could do was offer to compose the songs for them to play. Writing them was also a good outlet, he found. Since high school, he’d composed a few short jams, not that they would ever see the light if he could help it.
Pushing his joy back to regain focus, his eyes flit over to your hunched over figure. Even after all the hours that have passed, your fingers still tirelessly flew across your keyboard before pausing and correcting a few spelling and grammar mistakes as you go. Sending you a telepathic “good luck”, Eita once again picks up the instrument with the intent of playing what hopefully will be the final version of this song.
Now knowing that you wouldn’t mind his playing, he went ahead without holding back. Eyes following along with the keys written down, fingers plucking and strumming away at the strings. The notes blend together and softly swells and peaks with each repetition of the chorus. While he knew that you didn’t mind his playing, he didn’t want to distract you, so he mouthed the lyrics as he played.
The last chord hung in the air before fading into nothing. There were a few places that could use a few alterations, either a change in pitch or pace, but all in all it was a decent song accounting for the fact that it was written in less than a night. Now all it needed was a name.
Coming up with an appropriate name was always the hardest part of the process, Eita thought. Typically, if an artist wanted their song to be found easily, it was best to name it after the chorus. Scanning over verses and chorus, he pauses over the words ‘honey go home’.
Eita didn’t even have to turn around to know that you were running on fumes. If he had the confidence to strike up a proper conversation, he knew he would voice this sentiment to you. Pushing aside the thought, he writes the potential name in the top margin with a query next to it.
The song itself needed approval by the rest of the group and by their production manager, but he was overall very proud at completing it under the pressure of a dreadfully close deadline and the absence of a muse. That was, until you walked in.
Without even realising it, you served as the catalyst to the intense emotions that Eita felt in that futile relationship.
That wasn't to say that you reminded him of her. From what he could tell, you weren’t like his ex in the slightest. In fact, he was tempted to say from your short interaction and mannerisms that you were the polar opposite to the stiff and stand-offish demeanour his ex possessed. Still, you somehow triggered a part of him that he’d been unknowingly out of touch with since his break up. it was freeing in a sense, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
Calling it a night, Eita begins to pack up his mess of papers and stack dirty coffee mugs. Organising the sheet music into neat piles, he tucked the newly composed song in a sleeve separate to the half-baked songs written earlier on in the night. Throwing the folder and other miscellaneous items into his tote, he briefly wonders about when would be an appropriate time to message the team and notify them of his success. Checking his phone, Eita was not surprised to see that he stayed up so late from how groggy he felt. It definitely feels like almost six in the morning.
Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he grabs the bag and slings his guitar strap over his shoulder. Without even realising it, Eita looks back over to your table. Still in the exact same position, now with a half-empty cup of coffee cooling by your elbow as your emptily stare drills into the word document before you click something and fix whatever mistake you could find. From your unhurried pace, Eita assumed you were in the editing phase of the assignment, close to the end.
He was tempted to walk over to your table, to both say thanks and to get your name. You didn’t know how thankful he was of your presence obliterating his two-week long writer’s block and he wanted to make you aware of it. If he just so happens to offer to thank you over a drink or dinner and you accept, then that'd be a bonus of getting to know you.
As Eita walks towards the exit, he still tosses up whether to approach you or not. As he nears, you sigh heavily and message your temples, signalling that maybe you weren’t in the best of moods to make friendly conversation. That’s alright, Eita thinks as he bypasses your table at the last second. He really didn’t want to be the cause of breaking your focus, especially when you looked so done with life right now.
Like a fool, Eita lets the opportunity slip trough his fingers. Sparing you once last look over his shoulder, he pushes the door open and leaves the shop just as the sun kisses the horizon with her golden rays.
As he makes his way home, in the back of his mind he hopes that you get to go home soon to get some well-deserved rest.
Watching the monster document upload slowly on the café’s slow wifi was torture in and of itself. Sipping the last dredges of the cold coffee, you stare unblinkingly at the loading bar, hoping that it wouldn’t pop up with an error and terminate the upload. If that happened, you were going to scream. And maybe break something. You’re sure Jin wouldn’t mind so much. He knew you would pay for whatever damages you caused in your hysteria.
A small green notification confirms the upload and gives a receipt of your submission. The time stamp was enough for a cold sweat to break out along your skin. Ten minutes longer and it would’ve been late and you would've receive a big fat zero for it. The professor was an asshole to have that stipulation, but you were well and truly too exhausted to be angry at this point.
Shutting down the device, you recline back in the chair and swivel your neck that was stiff from holding it in a weird position for hours on end. God, your whole body was aching from unconsciously holding tension for the entire night.
The faint sunlight filtering through the windows suggest that it was time to pack up and get some much-needed sleep before your class today. Mid-day classes were the best, you cheered. Thankfully you’d be able to get at least a few hours before having to survive the rest of the day. You still had other assignments and module quizzes after all.
After neatly placing all your stuff away, you turn to seek out the attractive musician. At the sight of the empty chair he once inhabited, your heart sinks. You hadn’t even seen him leave, too wrapped up in rushing to submit before the rapidly approaching deadline.
Dismayed at the musician’s absence, you crush the unwarranted thought of being lonelier than you thought to fall for a stranger after a short conversation. If it could even be called a conversation since it was mostly him apologising.
Sighing out loud, you grab your bag and wave at Jin as you stand.
“Thanks for the coffee. You’re a miracle worker I swear.” Your compliment made him smile as he continued to sweep behind the counter.
“Good to hear that you enjoyed my coffee even though they were probably cold when you drank them.”
You chuckle at that and give a good bye as you leave the shop. The trip home was a blur in your mind. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow. As blissful unconsciousness enveloped you, the image of the ash-blond musician pops in your mind.
Eita was torn between cursing ever meeting you or thanking every god that existed. No that was a lie. He definitely didn’t regret meeting you. What he did regret was telling his prying room mate about the unexpected form his muse appeared as, after being asked how he pumped out a song so quickly.
Satori had a field day about his incompetence in asking for a someone's name.
“You have the looks and charisma of a modern day Adonis and yet you are the most awkward person I know when it comes to flirting.”
Eita had no grounds to defend himself. He knew he was hopeless when it came to dating. That was probably why he stayed so long in his last one, knowing how hard it is to put himself back on the dating scene.
“Yeah. I know.” He replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to alleviate the headache he felt coming on.
“Have you tried going back there to meet them again?” Satori looked at him questioningly while upside down from where he had his head thrown over the back of the lounge.
Yeah, Eita has tried going back there. All at varying times that he was out and about and had succumbed to the urge to go back there and see if maybe you were there. On his tenth visit there, he was sorely tempted to ask the barista with the thick eyebrows that you spoke to on that fateful night for your name. Common sense was quick to convince him out of that idea, he really didn’t want to come across as a creep.
Satori didn’t have to know all of that, though, so he stayed vague with his answer.
“Yeah I have, but they weren’t there.”
“Well,” Satori dragged the word out for longer then necessary and Eita felt his eyebrow tick in irritation. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet but with less death.”
Shaking his head at the analogy, Eita silently agrees with the flamboyant red-head. Maybe meeting you once was enough of a miracle that he should be thankful for and just accept his star-crossed meeting with you.
Still, he had a lot to thank you for. You served as a catalyst for became the most popular song in their first album, 'Honey Go Home' shooting up in the charts every passing day. Since then, they’ve been booking gigs left and right. Not that you ever knew it, nor would you ever since he hadn’t seen you since that fateful night.
A text from their manager pulls him out of the bittersweet reverie, notifying him of an impromptu meeting to cover the packed schedule for the next month. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplates if he had enough time to get dressed and grab something to eat along the way.
Judging that he could, but it’d be a tight fit, Eita shoots off into his room to chuck on random articles of clothing before heading out. He hears Satori snort at his outfit combination and ignores it in favour of beating the lunch-time rush.
By the time he makes it into the business district, Semi had a handful of minutes to spare to grab lunch before what he assumes is going to be a long meeting. Spotting a takoyaki stall not far from him, he was soon waiting in line with others that were won over by the delicious savoury smells permeating from the stall.
The order turnover was pretty quick, still he eyed the time on his phone’s home screen with worry. His band mates wouldn’t let himself live it down, hell he himself wouldn’t let it go. No one wanted to be that guy holding everyone up from going home to their lives. Generally, they all got along like a house on fire but with their recent schedule, it was hard not to want to spend lost time with friends and family.
Hearing his order called out, he rushed to collect the bag. There was no time to eat it now, so he’s have to eat during it, which wasn’t the worse thing to ever happen. Picking up his pace whilst answering a text, he doesn’t see the person he ends up crashing into, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.
They gasp as he slams against their back and start to tilt forward before he reaches out and pulls them by their shoulder to get back their footing.
“Sorry! Are you okay?” His eyes sweep down the person’s body, ensuring he caused no physical damage. As the person turned around to face him, Eita met the face he'd least expected to see. Taken aback, Eita stared at you in shock as you mimicked him.
It was a humorous twist of fate that he would quite literally come crashing back into your life, after trying to find you for entire week.
It took you a moment to recognise him, trying to place his face to someone you met while his eyes roam your face. Once you do remember, you flushed at the close proximity of your bodies, his hand still clasped on your shoulder.
You both stared at one another as the world passes by, unknowing of the second fortuitous second meeting of the pair. Shock was the predominant emotion reigning inside of Eita, followed by gratefulness.
He suffered a full week of teasing from Satori and his band for acting like a hapless fool in love with some nameless person. There was no way in hell he was going to let you slip through his fingers again without at least getting a name.
“Hey, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask for your name?” He cursed the way his voice cracked at the greeting, wanting to scream at how awkward he was being again.
For whatever reason, it seemed that you were charmed by his latent charisma trumping his stiff question and you respond with your name. Testing it, he says it back to you and you respond with a nod at his pronunciation.
“What’s yours? I can’t keep calling you hot music guy.” You query in kind.
A light blush covers his cheeks at the compliment. He knew he looked good, people never failed to remind him, but it was always an ego boost when someone that made his heart flutter gave a compliment.
“I’m Semi Eita.”
He realises he was still holding your shoulder as they jump up as you silently laugh at his adorable blush. As if you burned him, he snatches away his hand as the blush intensifies. Eita was sure his face was bright red now.
“Well, hi Semi. I’m glad I got to meet you again. I wanted to thank you for playing that night, it really pushed me to keep working.” You glance off to the side, not meeting his surprised expression.
A soft, warm feeling fills him at your words. The power music possessed was a mysterious thing. To know that his playing had such an effect on you was incredible. It was extremely flattering.
“That's funny, because I actually wanted to thank you.” The words pour out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.
A curious look lights up your face and urges him to continue.
“In a round-about way, you inspired me –“ The shrill ring tone of his phone cut off his explanation.
Giving you an apologetic look, he looks at the screen and grimaces when he sees the contact name of his manager paired with the time. He was late already, so what was a few more minutes? He might as well shoot his shot, Eita concludes as he denies the call and meets your beautiful gaze.
Under the sunlight in light clothing for the warm spring-time weather, you looked stunning. The lack of tired lines etching your face and eye-bags soothes his heart, knowing that you got some decent sleep last night. It was weird how he barely knew you and yet he wanted to know if you got some sleep. Eita barely knew you and he craved being able to take care of you on those long nights when you were unable to do so yourself.
“Was that important?” You tilt your head at him and Eita had to refrain himself from visibly showing how much the cute action affected him.
“Ah, yeah, it kind of was,” Came his stilted reply. You bit at your cheek as Eita wanted to bang his head against a wall. What was it with him losing his cool with you around? Usually he was pretty good with small talk, or so he was told. His phone starts ringing again in his hand and he doesn't even bother to look at it.
Time had run out, it was now or never.
“Can I have your number? I’d really like to thank you when I’m not being rushed.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath, the split second of courage proving to be his downfall. As he regained that breath, he realised how fast he spoke. It was highly likely that you might’ve not caught them. Okay, now he was ready to bury himself alive.
R.I.P. Semi Eita.
Cause of death: trying and failing to ask for your number.
You stared at him blankly, mind taking a moment to process the word vomit, unknowingly watching him as he has an internal melt-down. His question suddenly hits you and it takes everything in you to not blush at the thought of a kind and talented musician asking for your number.
“Oh! You want my number?” You ask, pulling out your phone and pointing at it in question.
Relief sweeps away the embarrassment that threatened to surpass all logic and just leg it away from you and forget about ever meeting you entirely.
Not trusting himself, Eita nods. Pulling up a new contact and handing over his phone, you wordlessly do the same. Standing there filling out contact details, his accomplishment didn’t strike him until he thanked you and promised to text you soon after you urged him to get where he was needed.
While it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned your first proper conversation to go, it did end with your name, number and a promise of a future meet-up. It was hard to keep the grin off of his face as he enters the room filed with unimpressed people. Once he explained his tardiness, the mood turned on its head as they gave him encouraging pats on the back and a few hair-ruffles that he batted away.
The entire time he sat there, his phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket. It took all his self-restraint to not text you right then and there.
In the end, it turned out you were the one to send the first text. If anyone saw the way he reacted to receiving that text as he walked out the building, he would refute any and all claims of him lighting up like a Christmas tree until the day he died.
Unlike asking for your number, it took a while for him to gather the courage to ask you out after a few easy-flowing conversations. With your enthusiastic response, he felt on top of the world.
Eita never made a habit of looking back at the past, arguing there was nothing one could possibly gain from doing so. Although, after the short few months since meeting and consequently dating you, he found himself often looking back to that quite night in the dimly-lit coffee shop. By all means, that stress-filled night should not have lead to him finding his other half. But as Eita had come to learn, even the mundane becomes extraordinary with you by his side.
Notes: I wrote this in a night and had to stop myself from posting it without editing because I have no self-restraint sometimes. Critiques, Comments & Notes are always welcomed!
#semi eita x reader#semi eita#reader-insert#fluff#meet-cute#haikyu!!#Haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert#haikyuu!! fic#haikyu!! reader insert#shiratorizawa#I couldn't turn away the idea of running into him in a coffee shop#musician!semi#canon divergence
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