#?¿Star bright star light please help the city with your might oh no wait i was thinking of Jack Knight.”- Stargirl

[harveyhawkscripts]

[A4A] Christmas Lights with Mothperson Partner [Mothperson speaker] [Mini script] [12 Days of Scriptmas]

AN: Hello and welcome to Day 1 of the 12 Days of Scriptmas! I’ll be posting mini scripts from now to Christmas Eve (I decided to start a day early). I’m also trying a new format without (.) because they look kind of messy. Hope you like it!

Google Doc

Usage:

- Okay for monetization

- Please credit me as Harvey Hawk :)

- Tweaks, improv, and pronoun changes are okay! Just please do not rewrite the script completely.

Synopsis: The listener has a surprise for the speaker, a mothperson. The surprise is a train ride through Christmas light displays! For the mothperson, this is the perfect Christmas gift. 

Key:

[SFX and Action]

Break - Listener response

(...) Longer pause

(Voice instruction)

Word Count: 517

—

MOTHPERSON

(Muffled) Ah’m waw e-muff.

Sorry. My scarf was in the way. I said I’m warm enough.

I’ve got my hand warmers, fluffy coat, and wing covers. I think I’m sufficiently bundled.

Yes, I’m sure. You asked me all the way here, baby.

Hehe, it’s okay. I’ll let you know if I get cold, okay? I promise.

Wow, the park is so pretty in the winter! The sky is so clear you can see all the stars. Not like in the city…

So, now that we’re here, do I get to know what my surprise is?

Close my eyes? Ooh, okay. Lead on!

[Footsteps]

(Giggles) This is so exciting!

[Train whistle]

Wait, is that –

(Gasp) Oh my gosh! What a cute little train! Are we going on a ride?

Oh boy! Come on, come on, let’s go! I’ve got dibs on the window seat!

So, where are we going?

A Christmas light show?! Oh my gosh, really?!

My favorite part of Christmas is the lights! Oh baby, thank you so much! You’re the best partner ever.

[Train chugs]

Ooh, it’s starting. Here, hold my hand. I want to share this moment with you.

(Slow breath)

(Softly) Woah. So beautiful…

(Flattered) Hehe, oh stop it. You know I was talking about the lights. But y’know, as pretty as the lights are, you shine much brighter.

Hey, it’s Christmastime! I can be corny if I want; it comes with the season.

Babe, look at that display! It’s a waving polar bear! Hi, polar bear!

…Hey baby?

I think I might be getting just a little chilly. Can I share your blanket? I promise I won’t nibble on the edges this time.

Thank you!

Yeah, yeah, you told me I’d get cold. But now we get to snuggle up! And my fluff will help keep you warm, so it’s a win-win.

There, all cozy.

Look, rainbow lights! They look delicious!

Uh, yeah. Don’t you ever wonder what light tastes like?

Well, I do. I bet the red ones taste like spicy mint!

Woah, check out the pattern on that display! It’s like the lights are dancing. It’s almost… hmm… it’s almost hypnotic…

Huh? Oh, sorry. I spaced out.

Hey, you’re the one who took a moth to a light display show. You know how I get.

(Flustered) Adorable?! Well – I – I wouldn’t say –

[Kiss]

O-of course my antennae are twitching; you’re making me all flustered! Kissing me out of the blue like that. You know exactly what you’re doing.

It’s alright, I don’t mind the teasing too much if it’s from you. That just means I get to tease you back even more later.

Just wait. Once we get home, I’m going to make you all blushy and red!

Seriously, though. Thank you for taking me to see the lights. I’m having a spectacular time. Everything is so bright and colorful; it’s like I’m in a wonderland! And the best part is, you’re here with me.

Oh, there’s that blush. Looks like I didn’t have to wait until we got home.

Told you I’d tease you back.

[Kiss]

Happy holidays, baby.

END

[brattata]

Windows

Crossposted from my AO3 account, if it seems familiar. Mature content below, so minors please DNI!

Joseph's been putting a lot of work into your real estate business, and it's really starting to pay off. You wanted to congratulate him by christening his fancy new desk in his fancy new office, but things don't go according to your plan.

Joseph Joestar x AFAB reader (no female pronouns used, but reader wears feminine clothing)

CW: Semi-public sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, creampie, Joseph says “cunt” one (1) time 

“It’s impressive,” you admit, leaning in for an almost-kiss.

Instead of closing the distance, Joseph grabs your hands and pulls you up from the couch excitedly, leading you over to the far wall. “You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he teases. “Watch this.”

He reaches up to press a subtly disguised switch, and it becomes apparent that the “wall” is actually a massive floor-to-ceiling window, slowly revealed from behind the dark wood paneling.

“Wow,” you whisper, pressing your hand to the cool glass. Beyond it is the Manhattan skyline, breathtaking from 15 stories up. The brightness of the city obscures most of the stars, but the thousands of twinkling lights and glowing windows are beautiful in their own way. There are people behind some of those windows, you think – working late, or maybe enjoying time with their families. Maybe taking in the view with the person they love most, the way you are now.

Joseph hums a kiss into your hair, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His comforting weight against your back and impish smile reflected in the glass make you feel so warm inside, your heart could burst.

Until one of his hands slips beneath your skirt.

“JoJo!” you gasp, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Oh come on, don’t be coy!” he laughs. “The champagne, the perfume…that skirt, with no nylons underneath.” His smirk is undeniably sexy, but that only makes you more annoyed. “You didn’t come here for a tour of the new office.”

“No, I wanted to celebrate with you!” You pause. “In your new chair, or maybe on top of your new desk. But not in front of a window, Joseph!”

“Why not?” he asks, almost sounding genuinely perplexed.

“Someone could see!”

“Who?” he laughs again. “It’s late. No one’s watching. Even if they were, they would be too far away to see our faces.” Now he’s trailing kisses down the back of your neck, shameless as ever in exploiting your weaknesses. “And besides, I think you like an audience.”

“I-JoJo, what-,” you splutter, scandalized and yet burning at his accusation.

“I noticed last summer at Grandma Erina’s,” he replies, letting his lips brush against your nape. “When Smokey walked in on us. You remember, right?”

How could you forget? Even now, the memory has your insides twisting with a complicated emotion you can’t quite place. Like embarrassment but sharper, hotter. Exciting.

“I’d never seen you make that face before. Not to mention the way you held onto me…and well, held onto me.” Joseph pauses from tormenting your neck to flash you a dirty little grin. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

“O-oh, Joseph, I’m. I don’t know,” you trail off. Immediately his chin comes to rest on top of your head, one arm draped around your shoulders and the other curling soothingly around your waist.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, baby,” he murmurs. “I only want to make you feel good.”

You take a moment, studying your feelings and Joseph’s gentle (but hopeful) expression. Then you unfasten your skirt.

Immediately Joseph lets go of you with a little whoop and a fist pump before tearing into his shirt and tie.

“God, you’re lucky you’re handsome,” you scold him good-naturedly, giggling a bit at his childishness. You kick the skirt away, opting to leave your kitten heels on. Next comes your blouse, which you unbutton slowly for Joseph’s benefit. His shirt is gone, along with his belt. He palms himself lazily over unbuttoned pants, watching your fingers work.

“Don’t forget heroic, a genius, and—“ his bragging is cut short by a low whistle as your bra is revealed, a delicate little number formed of translucent lace. Once you let the blouse fall he can fully appreciate the matching panties, cupping your ass nicely but leaving very little to the imagination. “Baby, you did come dressed to celebrate.”

When you reach back to undo the bra clasp Joseph stops you, lips back on your neck and hands rubbing your shoulders. Instead you tug the cups down until your breasts spill out, earning you a hissed “Niiice” before his hands quickly replace the lace. The contrast is delicious – warm, calloused flesh on one side, smooth and cool metal on the other. Both options have your nipples pebbling almost instantly, Joseph kneading your tits with reverence as if this is a rare treat rather than something he gets to do almost every day.

It is kind of a special occasion.

Before long his right hand drifts down your stomach, slipping deftly into your underwear. You’re so slick he can barely keep a finger on your clit, forcing a whine from you and a low groan from him. “Holy shit, you’re wet! The thought of putting on a show for some strangers gets you this worked up?”

“N-no, I’m excited for you, JoJo,” you coo, hips undulating along with his fingers. “It feels so good when you touch me.”

“Hmm, seems like I barely need to touch you at all,” he replies, back to his smug grin. With little warning he slips one finger inside you, then two, then three. There’s the tiniest sting, but you take them all easily. “See? You’re already ready for me.” It’s hard to argue when his strong, thick fingers are knuckle deep inside you and your pussy is still aching for more. “Since you want it so badly, guess it’s time to stop playing around and have some real fun.” The fingers are gone. “Bend over, baby.”

With a shaky sigh you do as you’re told, bracing your hands against the window and sliding your legs apart. You can’t resist wiggling your hips a little, asking for a playful swat from Joseph’s right hand. His left hand is suddenly gripping your ass, thumb spreading your lower lips open even wider and sweeping the gusset of your panties aside. You hear a zipper and rustling fabric, but instead of his cock, it’s a puff of warm air that caresses your pussy, followed by a firm stroke of his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” you wail, leaning your forehead against the glass.

“Not until you beg for it, my love,” Joseph chuckles. “I can eat this sweet pussy all night! Make you come until you’re crying for my cock!”

“JoJo!” you moan, desperately. You want to ask what’s gotten into him, but he’s sucking hard on your clit and you can barely hold a thought. He’s always been vocal during sex, but his babbling is usually sweet, not this demanding or…filthy. You love your adorably enthusiastic Joseph, but this version is also thrilling, and it makes you wonder if you’re not the only one excited by imagining eyes on the other side of the window. He’s slurping your pussy so loudly you know it’s deliberate, groaning like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

And for another reason, you realize, when you look at your reflections and see him vigorously stroking his cock. It’s the sight that carries you over the edge: Joseph kneeling with his face buried between your legs, so turned on that he can’t help but touch himself. You come with a strangled squeal, and Joseph gives your clit an affectionate peck as if to say “good job.” He’s gripping the base of his cock so hard it looks painful.

“Fuck me, JoJo,” you gasp. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

You rest for a bit against the window while Joseph stands and adjusts his grip on your hips. Now there are two thumbs spreading you open completely, which you might protest as embarrassing if you weren’t turned on beyond all pretense. You suck in a breath when the head of his cock finally kisses your opening, only for him to stop before taking the plunge.

“Look at that. It’s show time after all.” Blearily, you lift your head to see a silhouette in one of the windows in the office building across from you. Whoever it is has dimmed their lights so you can’t see much other than a vague shape, but it’s easy to imagine a strange pair of eyes staring into yours as Joseph sinks deep with one thrust.

The sudden stretch and the arousal have you coming again, softly this time, an aftershock of the pleasure you got from Joseph’s tongue. He leans his weight against your ass and holds still, luxuriating in the way you ripple around him, like you want him even deeper. “Fuck, this is good! We should’ve done this sooner!”

“Yeah,” you agree dreamily, grinding back against Joseph while you wait for him to move. He pulls back and thrusts hard, making your palms squeak against the glass.

“Maybe-“ he grunts, “maybe we should try it again on Monday morning. I’ll brace you against the doorway of my office, just like this, and we can show everyone that sexy face you’re making. Show them how hard I make you come.”

“But I don’t want them to see,” you murmur back. “Those things, I only want to show them to you, JoJo.”

“S-shit,” he gasps. “Fuck, you’re so hot. So beautiful!” He has a hand around your breast again, lips, tongue, and teeth trailing across your neck and shoulders just the way you like. He presses his face next to yours and gently tilts your chin up, making you look out the window again. “It looks like our new friend agrees.”

Across from you, the silhouette’s arm is moving back and forth. You can’t really see what’s happening, but you know.

“You’re so sexy, you’ve got him jerking off in the middle of his office,” Joseph laughs breathily. He slips two fingers between your parted lips, stroking your tongue in time with his thrusts. “Who could blame him? Watching those gorgeous tits bouncing above that pretty lace. Imagining his cock is the one pounding out your hot little cunt.”

You stiffen up a bit at the vulgarity and Joseph kisses your temple, asking with his eyes if what he said was okay. “Yes, yes, fuck,” you moan around his fingers, bracing against the glass to shove yourself into his cock, demanding deeper, harder, more. Joseph tilts his head to kiss you hungrily. His wet fingers go straight to your clit where they rub and pinch until you’re whimpering into his mouth, near tears.

“He can’t even hear how wet you are,” Joseph continues. “So wet you’re dripping all over the nice new carpet.”

You laugh a little at that. “As if you’re not desperate to make an even bigger mess, JoJo,” you tease back, lips touching as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Will you clean me up, baby? After you make a mess of me?”

“Fuck yes,” Joseph groans. “I’ll do anything, anything!”

“Come for me. Come inside me. I need it so badly, JoJo.” Whether it’s a plea or a command, Joseph can’t help but obey. He presses his face between your shoulder blades and one lightly Hamon-charged fingertip to your clit, and you’re thrown off the cliff of a breathless, whiteout orgasm. It feels like every muscle in your body is clenching for Joseph’s cock. He’s scorching hot and huge inside you as he fills you up, and you wring him for every last drop. He slowly pulls out and helps you right yourself, turning your back to the window as he leans down for a kiss.

“That was amazing. I love you.” Before you can return the words he’s already sinking to his knees, nudging your legs apart so he can fit between them.

“Joseph, I’m tired,” you demur, stroking his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“But I still need to clean up,” he insists. When he grins at you like that, you can’t say no. “I’ll go slow, baby, I promise.”

He starts with your inner thighs, looking very pleased with himself when he gets a few giggles out of you from the ticklish sensation. When his mouth finally reaches your center it is slow and soothing. He’s not trying to force another orgasm from you – just enjoying you, caring for you, showing his love. You don’t come by the time he’s finished, but you don’t need to. You just want him to hold you, so he does.

When you reach the couch he plops down on it, keeping you cradled in his lap. He takes off both of your shoes and stretches out on his back (as much as he can), draping you across his front. He’s warm, and you can feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and even though you know you’re going to be ungodly sore tomorrow, right now everything feels perfect.

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest.

“Anytime, baby,” he chuckles warmly. He smiles up at you, looking happy but not as content as you feel.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, a little worried. “It was good for you, wasn't it? Not…weird?”

“Of course, it was great for me! Don’t look at me like that!” He reaches for your cheek, rubbing at the corner of your frown. “I was just, ah,” he clears his throat, adjusting your position so that you’re more beside him than on top of him. On the way down, your leg brushes what is unmistakably a semi-erection already straining against his briefs. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier, about ‘celebrating’ on my desk.”

“Absolutely not,” you groan, nuzzling against his shoulder, eyes already closed.

“Your next line is: ‘Maybe tomorrow, JoJo!’”

“Nice try.”

[wonderful-wells-writing]

Fanclub; Chapter 1

EoWells x Reader

Some of the STAR Labs employees have a secret fanclub where they discuss Harrison Wells and share pictures they take when they think he isn't looking. Problem is it's not quite as secret as they think it is. The man himself seems to have taken an interest in the the little group, finding it to be the perfect place to find willing partners to satisfy his needs. And you're his next pick.

Work is dying down for the evening at STAR Labs. Chemists are checking that all the storage units are set to the proper temperatures. Engineers are making sure that everything that needs to be powered down is. Lab techs are cleaning up their stations. But nearly everybody is discussing their plans for the weekend.

There is one worker who is not engaging in such conversations. You are currently crammed between two sections of machinery, determined to get this wiring finished before leaving for the day. That way, Monday, bright and early your team can start doing test runs.

You are not engaging in conversation with others but rather are talking to yourself as you work. “Some red over here, blue wire over there.” Your grin would light up the room if anybody could see it. “I just love when a color-coded array comes together.” There’s a buzz on your right butt-cheek, and you squeal in surprise.

“Everything alright in there?” One of the other scientists looks up from the desk.

“Yeah, Bri,” you extract yourself from the machine parts. “My phone just went off, and I thought something shocked me.”

“Girl, I can not tell you how often that happens to me,” Bri takes her purse from a drawer and a jacket off the chair. “So, what are your plans for the weekend. More number crunching?”

You pull your phone from your back pocket. “Actually my college roommate is having a bachelorette party tonight. So I said I would swing by the bar for a bit.”

“Sounds fun,” Bri gives a wave before heading to the door. “Don’t party too hard.”

She returns the wave before opening a group chat app on her phone to see what the notification is about.

KittyCat42; O.M.G did you see Dr. Wells today? a shirt THAT tight can not be workplace appropriate!!!

Attached is a photo taken from a smartphone at an angle in which the subject does not seem to be aware their picture is being taken. Dr. Harrison Wells is leaning over a desk, examining something on a monitor. Kitty is right; his shirt is very tight, his biceps bulge through the long black sleeves.

You grin, considering sending a reply, but another message comes in first.

YummyBitch73; Think he’s got plans? Looking that good, he’s got to be going out tonight.

Your thumbs move across the screen to type a quick response.

BabyDoll14; Maybe he has a date tonight?

KittyCat42; wonder who the lucky girl is?

You lean against a nearby workbench, smirking at the screen.

---

On the other side of the lab, somebody picks up their phone to check the barrage of notifications coming in. They chuckle before adding their own two cents.

Speedy22: Hey, who knows, it could be a lucky guy.

YummyBitch73: Oh you wish, he is a lady killer through and through

BabyDoll14: I mean, who are we to judge if it’s a lucky lady or gent. Maybe he swings one way, maybe he swings both ways. Who cares, we’re just here to talk about his ass behind his back.

“Speedy’ nods, almost respecting the woman on the other side of the screen for staying objective about objectifying her boss.

Speedy22: Speaking of ass, I got this one yesterday

He opens his gallery and scrolls until an ‘appropriate picture is found. A nice shot of Dr. Wells from behind; the quality is incredible for a smartphone shot. The man’s shirt is riding up, showing a nice strip of the skin of his back, even a bit of where his boxers rise above the waistband of his hands.

YummyBitch73: Damn Speedy, you always get the good ones. You’ll have to teach me some photography lessons sometime.

KittyCat42: what kind of camera are you using? The quality is so gooooood.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice draws his attention away from his device. “Are you staying late again tonight?”

Harrison Wells takes a breath to look her up and down, mentally running through his mind all the employees to try and remember who it is at his office door. “I’ll be headed out soon; I just have to wrap some things up.”

He recalls who she is when he sees the look she’s giving him. Brianna Masters, a specialist working down in Lab C. She would have had to go out of her way to get to his office before leaving. Self-proclaimed president of the Dr. Wells Fanclub, he had just been interacting with the group chat of; after the former president left with a job offer at Mercury Labs. She had been making goo-goo eyes at him since her interview three months ago.

“Well,” Bri twirls a curl of her hair, fluttering her eyelashes. “Harrison, you know I was wondering if you might like to take me out to get some drinks tonight?”

Dr. Wells tries to hide his displeasure at the thought. She wasn’t his type, physically, mentally, emotionally, “I have plans in the morning that require a clear head. Miss. Masters. Now is there anything of importance that you need?” The man was not adverse to flights of fancy to pass the time; he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on the little Fanclub of his if he wasn’t willing to look for ‘interested parties,’ but this particular woman has been of no real interest to him.

For reasons such as how she pouts at his response, “Well, having fun is important.” She mutters before wandering off down the hall, turning her attention to her phone.

YummyBitch73; holy Shit! He just asked me out for drinks. It sucks so much that I have to drive out to Coast City; I”d have taken him up in a heartbeat otherwise.

----

Back in Lab C, you finally finish with the maintenance on the machine. You check your phone once more while heading over to the desk and nearly cackle at what you’re reading. Everybody knows that Bri is full of shit, but there’s no point in calling it out and causing discourse.

You mute the phone to focus on your computer. While humming a quiet tune, you work on moving files to the USB stick plugged into the monitor.

“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing the download time in comparison to the clock on the screen. Of course, you could just leave it be, take the weekend off. It’s not like you get paid extra to run calculations at home.

17 minutes later

“Nonononono, wait, please!” You’re half running to the street as the bus pulls away, leaving you in the illuminated circle of a streetlamp, cursing yourself. That was going to be the last bus coming this way for the night. If you walk home, you’ll never make it in time to change for the party. You might not even make the event at all. You pace up and down the sidewalk, contemplating your options.

A car pulls up beside you, tinted window rolling down, “Need a lift?”

You stop, shocked, “Oh, no I…” you pause, looking through the window, “Dr. Wells, hi...hey.” You swallow your pride. “I would really love to get a ride on-with, with you.” Internally you cringe at how that came out, but figure he probably wouldn’t have heard such a minor slip.

The lock clicks open, and you reach for the door.

“Maple Apartments on South 11th street, right?” Harrison glances at you as you get in the car.

You pause before shutting the door, “do I want to know how you know that?”

He laughs, and you jump a bit at it, “I can see how that would sound a little suspicious.” His smile is reassuring, and his blue eyes are kind behind his glasses. “It was on your registration forms when you started. I enter new employee data myself. Total recall can be useful even for small matters.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, shutting the door and buckling in. “I really appreciate this Dr. Wells, I would have been so late tonight if I didn’t get home to change soon.”

“Bit plans tonight?” Harrison asks as he starts driving. Truth is he had suspected you’d be missing her bus. He had seen you running after the last bus or driven past you walking home numerous times out his way out. You had quite the habit of working until the absolute last moment.

You smile, twiddling your thumbs to keep your hands occupied. “Yeah, I’m meeting a friend at the new bar that opened down the street from my place. She’s getting married soon, and since I can’t make the wedding, I promised I would spend at least a couple hours at her bachelorette party.” You aren’t exactly sure why you’re volunteering this information to your boss. It would be inappropriate to be so casual with him; then again, it’s also inappropriate to be part of a Fanclub that secretly takes pictures of him and talks about how great his ass looks.

Harrison ‘hmms’ in thought. “Why can’t you make it to the wedding?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, taking a moment to take in the way you sit, act, look, before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, they scheduled it for a Wednesday, so,” you look towards him just moments after he looks away. The first thing you notice is his hair; whenever you’ve seen him in the morning, it’s perfectly combed and straight, but it seems like as the day went on, it began to take on a life of its own. While the back is still nice and neat, the front is sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“You could have asked for the day off,” Dr. Wells offers, “Am I such a terrible boss that you think I”d deny you some vacation after all your hard work?”

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks at what seems to be a compliment to her work ethic, “Oh no, I don’t think that at all. It’s just that, well, we have so much work to do. Every day we get a little closer to your dreams of the particle accelerator, and I want to contribute absolutely everything I can to that dream.” You smile. “You’re going to do such incredible things for the world of science Dr. Wells, and I don’t want to waste any time that could be spent helping you.”

The man is somewhat stunned by this. He’d attributed her long hours and determination to personal ambition. “What about you? Do you want history to remember you for your achievements?”

You bite your lower lip in thought at the question, “I mean sure, it would be nice to be recognized for my contribution, but,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m more concerned about how my work will impact the world, not so much if I’m remembered for it. Anyways you’re the true genius. I can tell that STAR Labs will make big changes and put humanity on a path towards the future. As long as I get to be a part of that, it’s all I really need.”

Harrison does a low chuckle at your sentiment, amused by the naivety. You speak with such hope and wonder and admiration. If you knew the truth, how horrified would you be? The realization of the end goal of the particle accelerator, the effects across history that your determination would wreak.

He grins, “Well, I am glad to have such a dedicated employee, but I do believe that one off day is not going to hurt our progress.”

You purse your lips, “You don’t come down to Lab C very often; you’d be surprised how off the rails things can go when I’m not there. Anyways I would rather work than go to a wedding. It’s not my kind of scene.”

He can sense that you are holding something back but doesn’t press the issue any further. He’s reached your apartment building anyways.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to give you the time off,” he says as he parks.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reach for the door handle, “oh, and thank you so much for the ride. I really owe you one.”

Dr. Wells makes a mental note about cashing in that favor later. “You just stay safe and enjoy yourself tonight.” He smiles warmly at you as you wave goodbye, but when the door shuts, his grin turns a bit darker. He watches you walk away, eyes tracing the curve of your figure, resting on the beautiful shape of your rear, right up until you disappear into your building.

As he begins to drive away, he catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror. There is something about this form of his that seems to drive the ladies crazy, and he wasn’t opposed to taking advantage of that. While pulling back into the street and driving away, he thinks on his situation.

For 13 years now, Eobard Thawne has been trapped in this god-forsaken time period. For a while, he had focused solely on his mission, rarely interacting with others unless it served a greater purpose. But he was still a man, subject to desire. At first, it was almost enough to make him regret allowing Harrison Well’s wife to die, she could have filled his needs easily. But that woman had been intelligent; she’d have discovered his identity eventually, so allowing her to die had been for the best.

Still, after a few years of isolation, Thawne had found the need unbearable and began seeing ways to fill the hole that was forming in his chest. Little flings, one-off nights where he indulged his carnal side, allowed himself the pleasure of another’s body before quickly parting ways with them, when he discovered that a fanclub devoted to him had been formed amongst his employees, that made the whole thing easier.

Joining the group chat under a false name was easy enough. It inflated his ego every time he read them discussing how great they thought he looked, and he was more than happy to provide material for them to gush over. And with that, it was like he had been given a list of women who would fuck him with no questions asked. All he had to do was choose. Of course, he has to be wary of those who might get too clingy or go off telling other people. But it’s not that hard to week those types out of the pack.

Thawne notices magenta neon as he’s driving. A club with a grand opening sign out front. He smiles, knowing that now not only does he have a new prey lure in, but the perfect hunting ground as well.

[travellingarmy]

║Zhongli║Family Outing

Requested from Wattpad.

Female reader as requested.

Fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

---

Even when it was just the two of you, you were expected to bring mora, so why would that change when there is an added person into the family?

"Mommy, Mommy! Look here, I finally tie it on my own!" A little rascal came running to your room with booming footsteps echoing down the hall, where you were still getting ready, showing you their poorly tied tie. You look over at the door and let a little chuckle before walking towards the smaller male who was quite the unique set of eyes and kneeling down to his level. "Wow, it looks good!" you praised, fixing the bowtie for him, earning a cute, little laugh from him.

The little rascal whose bowtie you were trying to fix was none other than your child, Qian. Qian was a unique child as he had features that normal humans don't have.

A second set of footsteps came echoing down the halls and stopped at your door. You look up and see your dearest husband, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and an unshakeable smile on his lips as he stares at the two most precious beings in the world. "Not going to mention how I helped you, I see." The older male chuckles. Qian turns his head to look up at his father before looking back at you again. "Oh yeah! Daddy taught me how to tie it, hehe," the adorable, little boy adds.

You laugh at the added statement and stood up. "Alright, should we go now?" you ask to which both of the males nodded- one with excitement. "Oh, right, Qian, make sure you hide your horns." You look at the two sets of horns that rested on top of the little boy's head.

As said before, the reason why Qian is unique is that he was a mix of a mortal and god-- yours and Zhongli's.

"Oopsies! I didn't know." He quickly retracted his horns so that they were no longer visible. His eyes, however, remained the same glowing amber eyes just like his father's; a truly unique set of eyes that makes him differ from everyone else along with his hair, and also the fact that he had the same immortality as his father.

You walked over to the door where Zhongli wrapped an arm around your waist and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "Ew, that's gross!" Qian covers his eyes with his hands as he said so, making both you and Zhongli laugh at the little action. "Can we go now? I want toys and books!"

"Alright, we can go now. Come, grab mommy's hand," you said and offer him a hand for him to hold onto. He uncovers his eyes and reaches for your hand, feeling the warmth from his tiny hands and fingers trying to cover most of it. Zhongli went to the other side of him and held his other hand and left the house.

"Mommy, mommy! Look at the doggies!" Qian points at the two dogs that watch the inner part of the bridge, giggling as the dogs wag their tails and walking closer to the young boy. He let go both of his hands from either of yours and Zhongli's grasp and went over to the dogs, ruffling their furs. You smiled before turning to your husband, "Can you watch over Qian while I buy a few things?" Not wanting to take Qian away from the dogs, you relied on Zhongli.

He nods and places a kiss on your head. "Of course," Zhongli says. On every outing, you would take this as a chance for grocery shopping. It was hard to keep the fridge at home full especially when you had a little tyke that sneaks into the kitchen for snacks.

Not wanting to overfill the fridge, you bought only the necessary things that you have fully noted down on a paper along with snacks for Qian. He- although has the same mindset as his father's and a bit of his knowledge- could be quite the handful when he doesn't get his snacks-- throwing tantrums when he wants things. But that was just how kids were and there is nothing else you could do to appease them.

"Mommy, where did you go?" Qian asks when you returned with a bag, still playing with the dogs. "Just went to buy food," you answered, smiling as Zhongli offers to take the bag from your hands. A gentleman, he was.

"What about snacks?" He leapt up excitedly, walking away from the dogs to clung onto your dress. "I wouldn't dare forget them," you replied, seeing his eyes light up happily, then hugging your legs. "You're the best, Mommy!" You rolled your eyes. "So, I'm the best when I buy you your snacks, huh?" you ask, feigning offence and pick him up to meet your eyes. He shakes his head frivolously and re-worded his words, "Mommy is the best even when she doesn't buy Qian snack!" He kisses your cheeks and you giggled.

"What about me?" Zhongli speaks up, pointing at himself as he waits in expectance. Giggling, Qian reaches out for his father who happily engulfed him in a warm hug. The little boy then places a kiss on Zhongli's cheek and smiled. "There! Daddy gets a kiss too, so don't be sulky anymore." Zhongli chuckles and places a kiss on his son's cheeks as well.

"Where would you like to go, Qian?" Zhongli asks, carrying him with one hand as he holds the bag with the other. "Toys!" he exclaims, eyes glimmering with stars. Chuckling, the three of you made your way to a toy shop where Zhongli put Qian down to roam the store, excitedly picking a lot of toys. "Qian, you can only pick two things, okay? You already have a lot back home," you reminded, sweat dropping.

"B, but Qian really likes them..!" He pouts, giving you his doll-like eyes as he pleads. It was something that he always does and was very effective. You felt an imaginary punch to your stomach, picturing your soon-to-be empty wallet, but you just didn't know how to say no to such a face. You cranked your head to your side, looking at your husband who stood idly by cluelessly, hinting him to help.

He notices your graved face and immediately understood and clears his throat. "Qian, mora, you see, may just be a materialistic thing that one can obtain, but obtaining it is much harder than you realize, so mortals always make note of things called prices that requires mora. By doing so, they can save extra mora for other needed things," he lectures, though it doesn't seem that Qian understood what his father told him.

"Mommy can go get more, right?" he asks, clearly not understanding what Zhongli had said. "Money shouldn't be thrown around carelessly, sweetie," you spoke, kneeling to his level and placing a hand on his shoulder, his bright eyes reflecting off of yours. "Okay.. But we can come back to buy them, right?" Qian asks, to which you nodded. "Then, Qian will pick these two! Mr. Cyclops is cool!"

You look at the toy in his hand, knowing that it was a very popular toy from Snezhnaya. The toy maker was also very popular amongst children, so it was understandable seeing Qian choosing the toy. You stood up and ruffled his head before turning to place a kiss on Zhongli's cheeks. "It wasn't the best explanation, but it did make him choose two," you say and walked off to pay for the toys.

"Mommy, mommy, I'm hungry!" Qian tugs on your hands after so much walking. "Well, it is the afternoon.. Where does Qian want to go?" you ask. "I want to eat where that fire-breathing teddy bear is!" he says almost immediately, showing his enthusiasm. "Ah, Wanmin Restaurant it is." You chuckled, knowing he meant Guoba.

"Hello, welcome to Wanmin Restaurant! Please, sit wherever you like!" Xiangling greets. Qian's smile grew wider when his eyes landed on the girl and ran up to her as you and Zhongli walked to an empty table. "Miss, can I see Mr. Fire-breathing Bear?" he asks, tugging her clothes. "Oh, of course, Qian!" the female giggles and takes Guoba out. On every outing, Wanmin Restaurant was one of the places Qian loves to go and that's because of Xiangling's Guoba. He would never go to another restaurant even when suggested.

Xiangling sat her bear on the extra seat around your table- right beside Qian- and look towards you and Zhongli. "Please, take your time to look over the menu! Oh, I've also added new dishes that children might like," Xiangling says enthusiastically before leaving the table to tend to other customers.

After choosing lunch, Xiangling makes off to the kitchen and leave the three of you plus Guoba to chat for a while. "Mr. Fire-breathing Bear is cute!" Qian states, touching the bear. "Mommy, can Qian have one too?" He turns to look at you.

"Ah.. Of course!" you say, giving him a close-eyed smile. It was a good thing that Guoba was behaving on order or else it could hurt someone.

"Here are your orders!" Xiangling returns as quickly as she went, the order in her hands and places it on the table. "And a little snack for little Qian!" she says. Qian giggles and thanked her before she excused herself once more, bringing her Guoba along.

After that, you just strolled around the city until sunset and eyed interesting things, making sure that neither Qian nor Zhongli went off on their own for things they've found an interest in. It was indeed fun, but it almost felt like you had to babysit Zhongli as well who almost always wanders around to buy things without preparing money with him.

"Mommy, how come Daddy isn't allowed to bring money with him?" Qian asks, running along the edge of the docks, pretending that his Mr. Cyclops can fly. Zhongli was certainly caught by surprise and a tint of pink was seen on his face as he forcefully coughs onto his fist-- most likely embarrassed for the reason. You snickered, eyeing the man from the side of your eyes before looking over to the little boy. "He is bad at managing money, so that is why mommy has them. And also because daddy always forgets to bring his money," you answered. "When he was courting me, I had to pay for most things to which he will pay by taking me out for dinner." It was only times that Zhongli can date onto a calendar, that he will remember to bring money. Other than that? Expect to bring your wallet.

"How did daddy manage to marry mommy like that?" he asks, surprised and draws his full attention to the two of you. "Well, daddy has other charms to look at. He's especially good in b--" Zhongli immediately covers your mouth, knowing full well of what you were about to say. "I would take whatever means necessary to marry your mother-- mora aside, of course," Zhongli states, hearing you laugh from beside him, though having a mouth over you.

You remove his hand to add on but was then cut off by putting a hand over your mouth. He laced his arm around your waist and draws you close before removing the hand and placing a kiss on your cheek. "I'm just kidding. You know I will never say that," you say, giggling at his attempt to shut you up.

"Ew, daddy is kissing mommy!" Qian spoke, drawing your attention to the young boy. "It was just a kiss on the cheek.." you say. "That is still kissing!" Qian defends.

You chuckled. "Alright, come here, Qian. It's time to go home and make dinner," you say, outstretching a hand for him to hold. He excitedly runs towards you and grabs hold of your free hand, your other being held by Zhongli.

After dinner, you all sat in the living room for some more family bonding time, Qian now presenting his horns as he plays with his new toys along with his old ones. But it didn't take long for the hours to pass before looking at the clock and decided that it was time for Qian to go to sleep.

"Alright, Qian, time to go to sleep," you say. "But I still want to play with Mr. Cyclops.." He pouts. "You can play with Mr. Cyclops tomorrow, okay? He won't leave," you assured. He was a bit reluctant, but soon allowed you to pick him up to bring him to his bedroom, Zhongli trailing behind.

You helped him change into sleepwear and tuck him nicely under the blanket, then turning on the lamp on his bedside table and turning off the light before returning to sit on the edge of his bed. "Good night, Qian. Let mommy and daddy see you in your dreams," you say softly and kiss his forehead. "Good night.. Mommy.." With that, his eyelids fell heavy, drifting him off to dream land.

You stood up and turn to look at the door, seeing Zhongli's eyes glowing much brighter in the dark room. One more look at Qian before you made your way to Zhongli who waited outside the hall, leaving the door slightly open as usual.

"I'm tired." You yawned, wiping a tired tear from the corner of one of your eyes. Zhongli chuckles lowly and caught you by surprise by picking you up, bridal style. "Then, it must be time for my dear to sleep as well," Zhongli says, smiling down at you as he walks to yours and his bedroom where he lies you down and crawling to the other side of the bed, getting underneath the blanket with you.

You muzzled into his chest, letting him wrap his strong arms around you closely and engulfing you in his warmth. "Good night, my dear." He kisses your forehead. You hummed, tired, and said, "Good night, my love."

---

[sad-boy-hank]

𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐬

help ive fallen in love with the fanatics

this was originally gonna be an angst oneshot but now its fluffy and sweet and self-indulgent... forgive me angst anon, your angsty oneshot must wait.

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

For once, the streets of Nexus City were quiet. Not the bad, menacing kind of quiet. The good kind. Papers rustled as a soft breeze pushed them across the street. Dandelions peeked out from between the cracks in the sidewalk. Hell, you could even spot pigeons trilling to each other as they tiptoed on the pavement! Nothing could ruin this day.

"Excuse me, floating one."

Ah. There it is.

You turned to face a very familiar gas mask, its green eyes sparkling with childish adoration. You sighed tiredly. These masked morons have been following you around for weeks, constantly saying things like "Might I request an audience with you, oh floating one?" It made you a bit... uncomfortable. But it wasn't too bad. Some were more demanding, and some days they came in pairs (often holding hands), but for the most part, they asked you, got sad when you said no, and left. It was ok.

The short man walked up closer to you, gently tapping the tip of his mask to your chest. "His buoyancy requests an audience with you, as soon as possible."

"His... who?" you took a step back and shook your head. "Nah, sorry dawg. I'm busy." Not wanting this interaction to break your day, you turned around and started walking away. You stopped after the sound of a manhole cover opening didn't happen. Looking over your shoulder, you spotted the little masked man nervously trailing behind. "Uh... bro? Not meaning to be rude but..." you paused, trying to choose your next words carefully. Jesus, he looks like he's gonna burst into tears! "Shouldn't... shouldn't you be somewhere else?"

He seemed to be caught off-guard, straightening his back instantly to appear more formal. "W-well, floating one, his buoyancy demanded that I not return without you." His gaze started to wander and he fidgeted with his fingers, his formal aura quickly melting away. "I apologize if this bothers you, floating one."

"Oh, my stars..." You placed your head in your hands, exasperated. "This was just gonna be a nice, quiet day where I didn't have to babysit any masked morons." You tiredly rubbed your face, only to gasp and flinch as you felt something cold touch your face.

The little man lept back, frightened. "Oh! I'm so sorry floating one! Please forgive me!"

You couldn't help but feel a twang of pity for the poor dude. He was practically shaking with fear, like a kitten in the rain. Goddamnit. I am gonna have to babysit today. You slowly walked over then crouched down to his level, meeting his terrified gaze. "Hey, buddy. It's fine! I really don't mind it." You gave a gentle smile for emphasis.

To your relief, he began to relax, his eyes returning to that adoring stare you'd come to know. "R-really?"

"Yes," you assured him. "I promise."

You could swear you sensed him light up under his mask.

Standing up, you offered out a hand for him to hold, which he took, looking honored.

"Hey. Do you wanna go to the bar? Maybe get a nice beer?"

He paused to think. "Um... we aren't... allowed to drink... any alcohol..." He muttered slowly, avoiding your gaze in an adorably embarrassed manner.

"Huh. Okay then." For a moment, the both of you walked in silence before an idea finally hit you. "Oh! I know!" you exclaimed, snapping your fingers. You regretted your outburst once you saw the man flinch. "Er- sorry," you apologized. "Are you allowed to eat meat? Gil's place is up the road, and they serve a wicked burger."

The short man lifted his head, seeming to consider your proposition. "Y-yes!" he decided after a bit. "I'd love to have a meal with you!"

You smiled at him and chuckled, amused at his childish way. "What's your name, by the way?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, letting your hand slip from his grasp. "U-um..." Once again, he seemed to shrink into himself, stuttering awkwardly and pressing his fingers together. "I don't think I have one..."

Oh, poor fella. He looked absolutely humiliated like he'd just offended a close friend. "Well, would you like a name?"

"Huh?" he looked up, surprised.

"Do you want a name? You can make one if you want!" you repeated, gentle as you could be. The little dude seems so shaken.

He cocked his head for a moment, thinking. "M-maybe..." He paused. "Hmmm... what about Rat?"

You looked at him with a bright smile. "Yeah, that's a wonderful name. Rat."

"T-thank you, floating one."

"You can call me (Y/N)."

[dakotacrisis]

Topsy Turvy (2)

Welp, I guess I am expanding on this. I may have already been planning to write a part 2 but I wasn’t expecting to do it this quickly. While I am doing my own thing with the content initially inspired by the previous comic I did steal one of Plagg’s lines from their continuation comic cause it was too funny to be ignored.

So anyhoo! Here’s a part two!

---

“Geez, you would think Hawkmoth would give us one morning off,” Alya groaned. Marinette, Nino, and Alya had been heading towards the station to meet Adrien when that giant robot akuma came out of nowhere.

Now the girls returned to a worried looking Nino who embraced Alya happily. Marinette lingered a bit away from them looking pale and sweaty. Alya sighed and went back to comfort her. “Don’t worry, girl, I’m sure things with Adrien will work out.”

“Yeah...about that…”

The train slid into the station. The doors opened and people started flooding out. Marinette grabbed Alya’s arm and pulled her down to whisper in her ear. “I freaked out seeing Adrien while I was Ladybug and might have, sort of, asked him out to the movies.”

“As Ladybug?”

“Yeah.”

“What is wrong with you! That wasn’t the plan! You were going to do that only if he rejected you as Marinette!”

“I know but I didn’t want to get rejected so I jumped the gun. Do you think this will mess things up?”

“I don’t know! We don’t know what his reply is gonna be. What did he say after you asked him out?”

“Nothing. I left before he could answer.”

“I love you but I am going to kill you.” Alya pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Heads up,” Nino called for the girls’ attention, “I can see Adrien.”

“I’m gonna make a run for it.” Marinette took two steps before Alya pounced on her and forced her back.

“You dug this grave, now lie in it.” Alya grabbed her arm and pulled her down the platform towards Adrien.

Adrien was walking in a dazed state and his face was beet red. He almost walked completely past them before Nino hooked an arm around his shoulders. "Hey dude! It's great to have you back."

"Oh hi, Nino," Adrien snapped out of his daze, "You didn't have to come meet me."

"Sure we did," the three of them started walking back out of the station. Adrien clung close to Nino as he told them about his trip. His gaze kept flickering down to Marinette who walked in step with Alya. Nino would have found it funny if it wasn’t for the fact that Marinette looked like she wanted to melt into the ground.

After their initial phone call two weeks ago Adrien had been really quiet about the whole confession thing. He sent lots of pictures from his trip and talked to him but anything having to do with Marinette was nonexistent. He figured he was working through his feelings on his own. It may have been because Marinette was his friend or Alya’s aggressive shipping of the two but he hoped Adrien chose her. They really were made for each other.

The girls left early and Nino invited Adrien back to his place to hang out. "I'm glad you had fun on your trip. You must have had a lot on your mind regardless."

"A lot on my mind?"

"We were gonna have to talk about it at some point," Nino collapsed into a beanbag chair, "About Marinette?"

Adrien went rigid. "Ma-Marinette? What about Marinette?"

Nino looked at him deadpanned. "Dude, she confessed to you? Remember?"

"Yeah," Adrien sat down next to him, "I remember."

"So did you come to a decision while you were away?" Nino asked.

"Not really, I keep flip-flopping about it. I know being with Marinette would be the easier option and she's great. I would be lucky to call her my girlfriend."

"But?"

"I still really love Ladybug and after what happened today…"

"What happened today?"

Adrien recounted to Nino about the akuma and how Ladybug and Rena Rouge saved him. Then how Ladybug had asked him out to see a movie.

"HOLY CRAP!" Nino gaped, "Ladybug asked you out? Why didn’t you lead with that?"

"I guess because I was still processing it happened." Adrien leaned back so he was staring up at the ceiling, "It feels like I'm dreaming. I'm happy but it also confused me more."

"I wouldn't blame you for being confused. Having a friend confess to you and then your crush asking you out...it's a lot to think of."

"I feel like the answer should be obvious. But it doesn't feel that way anymore."

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Marinette said she wasn’t expecting an answer but I still owe her something. I don’t even know how serious Ladybug was with her invitation. She could have just been messing with me but I don’t really see casual flirting as something she would do.” Adrien pondered it some more. Nino could see the gears turning in his head.

“I’d like to see you and Marinette together but I can’t force you to be with her. If it turns out Ladybug is who you really want then that’s okay too. Marinette’s strong and for the most part it sounds like she just wanted to let you know she had feelings for you. You don’t have to feel guilty about either option. I hope you know that.”

“You’re so sagely. It’s throwing me off,” Adrien laughed, “Go back to saying dude and talking through a mouth full of hot cheetos please. But seriously though, thanks for talking with me about this. It helps.”

“I’m always here for you, brother,” Nino tossed him a controller, “Now let me whip your butt in Mario Kart.”

---

Adrien returned home after a few rounds of Mario Kart with Nino. He was already pushing things with his father by going off with his friends earlier instead of heading straight home. He received a cool welcome from his father when he walked inside the mansion before he was gone again. At least he had deigned to greet him when he got home. That’s more than what he expected out of him.

He climbed the stairs to his room. “Alright, you can come out now,” Adrien told Plagg.

“You couldn’t have snuck me some cheetos while you were hanging out with your friend?” Plagg whined, “I’m starving!”

“There were three full camembert tins as well as an emergency string cheese in my bag. How are you starving?”

“I ate those on the ride back to Paris. Now I’m hungry again!” Plagg crawled across Adrien’s bed, “I’m so weak, Adrien. I can hardly move. Everything around me is going dark. I can hear the angels singing.”

“You are a menace.” Adrien picked him up and tossed him into his cheese cabinet. “Happy?”

“I feel rejuvenated!” Plagg cackled as he dove head first into a new tin of camembert. Adrien rolled his eyes and closed the cabinet door.

He went to the window and looked out over the lights of the city. He couldn’t wait to be back running across that skyline. Two weeks without being Chat Noir had been torture. Ladybug assured him that she and Rena had things covered when he told her he was going away for a bit. Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about it.

Maybe he could tear Plagg away from his cheese hoard for a quick jaunt around town. Maybe he’d even see Ladybug.

Oh Ladybug. All this time he had been trying and failing to woo her as Chat Noir and then without any prompting she asked Adrien out. He still wasn’t sure if she was serious. How badly he hoped that she was though. He wanted it to be real. He wanted Ladybug to love him. Now it looked like he had a chance at that but there was only one snag. Marinette.

Sweet and wonderful Marinette. He already broke her heart as Chat Noir. Could he stand to do it again as Adrien? He really didn’t want to but neither did he want to leave her in suspense of an answer. He wished things could be simpler.

He thought back to what Plagg said on the train and scoffed. “Monogamy is a concept invented by humans.” he repeated it back to himself, “As much as I would love to be in the middle of a Ladybug/Marinette sandwich I don’t think that’s an option. I think I would combust at the mere possibility.”

He pressed his head to the cool window and sighed. His eyes fluttered close. He should just go to bed at this point. He would stay up all night worrying himself into knots about what to do at this rate. He opened his eyes once more and fell back with a startled yelp.

“Oops, sorry,” Ladybug waved at him upside down through the glass, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh no, no you’re fine.” Adrien shot to his feet, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she righted herself and perched on top of his open window, “I wanted to come by and talk to you. I realize I kind of gave you a shock today during the akuma attack. The whole asking you to go to a movie thing.”

“Right, yeah, I was certainly surprised.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. Ladybug was in his room! Okay, she was sitting on his window but that was still in his room. “I gotta know, were you being serious or were you just fooling with me? I won’t be mad if you were but I just wanna know.”

“Yeah, about that,” he could swear he saw Ladybug blushing. Ladybug was blushing around him! “I did mean what I said. I think you’re a nice guy and I know that we haven’t ever interacted that much but I like you. I have no idea what you think of me but now you know what I think of you. So...thoughts?”

“I think you’re amazing.” Adrien answered without hesitation. His feet brought him closer to the window so he could better gaze up at her. Her head was silhouetted in moonlight casting a bright white halo around her dark hair. Her eyes sparkled like stars as she gazed stared back at him. Her lips slightly parted and her cheeks pink.

Adrien cleared his throat and spoke again. “I’ve actually had a crush on you for ages. I had trouble believing anything would come of it though.”

“Oh really?” Ladybug smirked, “Ages you say?”

Adrien’s mouth went dry. He nodded his head.

“Well if that ain’t a kick in the head,” she chuckled softly, “I’ve had a crush on you too.”

Wait. Hold up! Ladybug had a crush on him? He knew that she liked him but a crush? For how long? Adrien’s mind flashed back to when Ladybug told him she was in love with someone else. Was the someone else Adrien? Had he been getting rejected all this time because Ladybug was already in love with him?

“Adrien?” Ladybug waved a hand in front of his face, “Did I lose you? Was that too forward? I’m sorry if it was.”

“No! I’m just really happy!” Adrien blurted out. “I...I uh…if you still want I would like to go to that movie with you.”

Ladybug smiled. “Great. Are you free tomorrow?”

“I will be,” he would move the heavens themselves in order to be free if so needed.

“Awesome. They’re doing a classic movie night at the theater tomorrow. We could see the original La Belle et la Bete or Citizen Kane or Roman Holiday.”

“Aren’t they playing Psycho as well?”

“A horror movie?” Ladybug’s eyes widened. “I mean if that’s what you want to see...well um…”

“Wait,” Adrien said, “Are you--are you scared of horror movies?”

“Yeah, I know, big bad hero Ladybug gets scared watching horror movies. Laugh it up.” she shook her head.

“I wasn’t laughing. I wasn’t!” Adrien couldn’t help but smile though. He learned something new about her. “La Belle et la Bete sounds nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the original. I’ve only seen the Disney version and the live action remake they did back in 2014.”

 “Well then,” Ladybug twisted her yo-yo around in her hands. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow evening for our date.”

“Can’t wait.” Adrien was smiling like a fool. Ladybug gave him another wave goodbye before leaping off into the night. Adrien watched from the open window with a dreamy smile on his face. He had a date with Ladybug!

Then his heart sunk. He was gonna have to reject Marinette now. He hoped she wouldn’t take it too hard.

---

“I have a date with Adrien! I have a date with Adrien!” Marinette danced around her room. The kwamis were all out and celebrating with her. Alya sat on the chaise with a knowing smile. This wasn’t what Alya had planned but it looked like it worked out in the end. She had never seen Marinette so happy.

“Oh no,” Marinette stopped abruptly. “I have a date with Adrien!”

She ran to her closet and started pulling out clothes. “What am I gonna wear? It’s a movie date so it shouldn’t be anything too fancy but I don’t want to look like a slob. Should I wear something warm if the theatre is cold? But with all that body heat it’s bound to be warm so should I dress lighter? Alya, what do you think?”

“I think that you’re going as Ladybug so what you have on under your costume won’t make much of a difference.” Alya was trying not to laugh.

“Oh right,” Marinette threw her clothes back down, “Forgot about that part.”

“And you’re okay with dating Adrien as Ladybug? You don’t think that’s gonna cause any problems down the road? If you want this relationship to go anywhere in the future you’ll need to tell him who you are.”

“I know, but that isn’t for a good long while. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

The words of a fool in love. Alya decided to let her have her moment and not say anything. Tomorrow night would be interesting indeed.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[hlizr50]

These Scars Paint the Map that Led Me to You

Azriel and Gwyn both have scars, and both are determined to show the other that those scars are just as beautiful as the rest of them.

Read on AO3

Part 1: Azriel

“You’re brooding, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel could feel the Valkyrie’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up.

“I don’t brood, Berdara.” He kept his gaze firmly on the report in front of him, eyes narrowed. He didn’t understand how there could be so little intelligence. He had personally surveyed every location and made sure that every spy was in the most prime of positions to overhear and intercept information. It had been a time-consuming, harrowing endeavor, and it had taken him too far from home for far too long. It was the first long mission he’d undertaken since he had started spending considerably more time with the copper-haired priestess lounging in the settee across the room – since they had started sharing more than banter and nights running away from nightmares – and every minute away had put him more and more on edge.

Gwyn snorted.

“I love when you lie to yourself.” He heard the dampened clap as she snapped her book closed, but he still refused to meet her gaze. The shadowsinger could feel the intensity of those teal eyes boring into his profile, and he wasn’t prepared to compound his frustration with the questions he would find there – questions that would turn into an ocean of concern. He leaned back into his chair, tilting his head further and sighing in exasperation. His breathing was deep, measured, as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The rustle of fabric was the only indication that Gwyn had moved, but he remained focused on his breathing and the bitter burn of failure in his chest. Where was Koschei? Why couldn’t he find anything at all?

“Azriel.”

Her voice was quiet, the softest of melodies that always seemed to help silence the infernal voices that threatened to tear him apart. He opened his eyes when he felt her hands on his shoulders, graceful fingers feeling for the knots of tension and seeking to soothe them from where she stood nestled neatly between his wings. Azriel grinned half-heartedly, eyes roaming from the silken locks that nearly brushed his forehead to the constellations of freckles that painted her cheeks, to the deep sea of her stare that had darkened with concern, to full pink lips that were pursed. “What terrible lies are you telling yourself this time, Shadowsinger? Tell me, so that I might prove you wrong.” The small smile he had tried to use on her faltered, so he just sighed and reached up to gently wrap his fingers around her forearms.

It never ceased to take him by surprise how thoroughly she understood him. Gwyneth Berdara so easily saw past his practiced mask of indifference and coldness. It had alarmed him at first, but he had found a surprising comfort in her companionship. She had always made it known that she could see right through him, but she would never pry, never push him to share things with her that he wasn’t ready to admit.

He kept his hands on her arms, closing his eyes as he brushed his fingers up and down the soft velvet sleeves the color of the forest at midnight. He loved when she didn’t wear her robes, instead opting for casual gowns (a taste she had likely inherited from Nesta) or the practical tunic and leggings, which were much easier to fight in should the need arise. Gwyn looked beautiful no matter what clothing covered her tall, lean frame, but he could not deny how those dresses made him burn for her.

“Lies, priestess?” He murmured, trying to soothe her worry and direct the conversation away from his internal self-loathing.

“Oh yes, Shadowsinger. You tell many lies.” He felt the brush of lips on his forehead and the subsequent heat that crept up his neck. “But like I said, I love when you do.” And he let his eyes drift open again. She stared back down at him, a wry smile accompanying eyes dancing with stars.

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to elaborate.” His hands had stopped their exploration of her arms and had come to rest back where they had started. He drummed his fingers for emphasis, waiting for her explanation.

“You of all people should know, Azriel, how I strive to prove you wrong,” she snickered. “But in this, especially. I have well-crafted arguments against some of my favorite lies of yours.” Azriel quirked an eyebrow in question and he could have melted at the softness he found looking back at him. Gwyn pulled away from his grasp and circled around to his side, only to reach for a scarred hand again. She tugged at him, willing the Illyrian to abandon his reports. “Come sit with me for a moment.”

He put on a show of being asked to step away from his work even though he knew that he could not refuse her. She knew it, too, but she was still gentle with him and gave him an encouraging smile and a quiet request.

“Please, Az.”

He wound his fingers between hers and moved first, pulling her toward the couch she had been sitting on moments before. The pale blue upholstery was faded, the buttons rubbed bald where they tufted the cushions. Nesta had insisted that the well-worn fabric only served to prove how impossibly comfortable the settee was, and therefore replacing it was out of the question. He sat down without letting go of the pale hand that glowed like moonlight in his tanned grasp, wings draped over the corner where the back and armrest met. He pulled the redhead down between his legs, drawing her sideways into his chest. His free hand found her hip and immediately started massaging easy circles with his mangled fingers. She drew their connected hands up between her chest and his.

“These are my favorite lies that you tell.” Gwyn’s voice was so gentle that he couldn’t even muster the tension he usually felt when he knew someone had noticed the mottled whorls of skin that covered his fingers, hands, and wrists. He had never felt the need to hide them from her – yet another surprise. The list was becoming quite extensive.

“What… what do you mean?” Azriel croaked, unsure of what to expect. From Gwyn, he supposed, he should not have any expectations. They would be shattered by her wit and candor.

“You tell yourself that your hands are disgusting. That they have done terrible things and they make you undeserving of compassion and love. A bald-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one.” He tensed, hand pausing on her hip. He studied her face, mostly hidden by a curtain of fiery chestnut, but found her attention centered on his hand in hers. She used a finger to trace the scars over his knuckles, taking her time to follow each line until it reached the next, an intricate map of flesh. Azriel’s skin pebbled, a tremor rumbling through him at the attention, the awe and adoration in her touch.

“Gwyn…” He breathed, but he couldn’t form the words. The priestess dipped her chin and pressed her lips to each of his long fingers, then to each of his knuckles, then to the scars on the back of his hand. Keeping one hand wound tightly with his she reached her other hand to cup his cheek, finally lifting her lashes to peer up at him. His chest swelled as she smiled widely, eyes glittering with challenge.

“Are you ready for my well-crafted arguments?”

The shadowsinger chuckled, keenly aware of her body against his. He squeezed lightly over her hip and answered, “I’m guessing I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

“You are correct.” She tapped the tip of his nose before returning her hand to his cheek and then tracing those cool alabaster fingers down to rest on his neck. She let her thumb stroke idly over his jaw. He felt like he could barely breathe under the gaze that she had fixed on him. Her teal eyes were bright with sincerity and compassion, but her smile was sad. He knew why – he had always been consumed with hatred for himself and the things he had done, and she hated that he felt that way.

“I don’t think I will ever be able to think about what was done to you without being absolutely torn apart, Azriel. It was cruel and it was wrong. You were a child. It breaks my heart. It was a disgusting act, but these hands are the furthest thing from disgusting.” She squeezed the hand she held at her chest and Azriel wrapped his other hand further around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. She had never moved her eyes from his, and he found it difficult not to cower. But she gave him strength – she had emboldened him for awhile now – and so he held her gaze, mesmerized by her words. “These hands are beautiful. And perfect. And strong. They wield weapons and magic that make the whole of Prythian stand back in awe –“

“They have killed people,” he found himself arguing, an automatic response. Her fingers left his neck and pressed against his mouth, and he finally broke the eye contact she had so fervently held to look down shamefully.

“They have killed people. For your family, for your court. For me. You were there on the worst night of my life, Azriel. You may or may not know the details, but you know what happened to me. And yet here I am in your embrace, even when I can barely venture into the life and light of the city below without collapsing into a puddle of tears and panic. Because these hands… I know it’s you that holds me. I know that your hands are the ones touching me. The comfort that I feel, being able to know that it’s you, cannot be overstated.” Her voice was quiet, but fervent. Azriel could barely fathom her admission. He knew that she would feel remorse for the cruelty that he had endured, but this was so much more than that. “These hands belong to a male that I have never feared, even when I watched you slaughter men, cloaked in shadow. These hands are my safety and my sanctuary. They deserve compassion and understanding and adoration – you deserve those things. It hurts that you think otherwise, but I strive to prove you wrong, as always.”

The shadowsinger kept his priestess pressed against him at her waist and carefully pulled his other hand out of hers to cradle her face. He leaned his forehead against hers and let his ragged breathing betray his vulnerability. She was too good, too pure and perfect. But she was here in his arms, just like she had said. He lifted his gaze and found those teal depths for just a moment before slanting his mouth over hers, reveling in the softness of her. He had always been a man of few words, and while Gwyn had cracked him open wider than anyone in his family had ever seen before he still sometimes struggled to form the words he needed to show her just how incredible she was. He didn’t push to deepen the kiss, but after a moment gently pulled away. The lovely face he found nearly sent him over the edge with want – lips swollen slightly, wide glittering eyes, pink-painted cheeks. He was too overwhelmed with emotion to speak yet, so he buried his face into the crook of her neck, clutching her close with both arms. Her arms were trapped between them, but she had managed to slide her hands around his neck. Azriel felt her fingers gently teasing the hair at his nape as he breathed her in, the scent of water lilies and goodness permeating into his soul.

“Gwyn…” He shuddered against her. “Thank you.”

They remained wrapped in each other, for minutes or hours Azriel couldn’t comprehend. But he knew it, in that moment. It had been so easy to fall for her because this was who she was. She had chosen to be kind when the world had not been kind to her. She had chosen to fight back after she had been made helpless. She had chosen to show him light when she had been thrust into darkness. She saw him and did not cower. She challenged him and accepted his challenge in return. She had put her trust in him, and he could not imagine a greater gift.

So he held her against him and breathed her in, relishing in her heat and her light and her trust. And for the first time in his five centuries of life he thanked the Cauldron for the scars that marred his hands, the paths she had traced on the map of his skin – a map that had led his heart to her.

@trashforazriel @tealnymph-writes

[moonbeambucky]

I Promise (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4106 Warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: My first Chris Beck fic! Rather than a really long one shot I’m splitting it into two parts. A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

“Hey.”

The soft resonance of Chris’ voice brings tears to your eyes, ones you couldn’t help from slipping out. They fall down the curve of your cheeks past the uneasy smile you wore.

“I kept my promise,” he said. Chris flashed the top row of his bright white teeth, his mouth curving into a boyish smile that reached his eyes, the fine lines crinkling around them. He tilted his head as he looked at you through the screen, a comforting gaze that made you feel as if he was there with you. 

The quality of the video chat is near perfect making you almost forget Chris was millions of miles away. He looked the same, not that you expected him to look different. It had only been a few months since you last saw each other. 

His hair looks darker than usual but you suppose it’s the low lighting of the small room he’s in. He’s bundled up in a thick NASA sweatshirt and you can see several more layers he has on beneath the collar. Chris looks tired but that’s expected, what he’s doing right now is not a walk in the park. You know it’s the reason why it’s taken so long for him to contact you but you wish he did it sooner. 

More tears flood your eyes, burning their way out as you wished he never left at all. You can barely hear Chris over the sound of your own sobs.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded.

You lifted your head towards the screen and seeing the concern on his face only made you miss him more, wishing he was there to console you in person.

Your hand swept away tears from your cheek as your voice cracked saying his name. “Chris…” 

The streets are simmering with the heat of a summer that couldn’t wait to officially start. Calendars be damned, it was hot. You indulged in a cool shower when you got home from work but time didn’t allow for a languid evening of staying in your towel as you applied serums and moisturizers, lotions and creams and every other post-shower pampering you normally do. Tonight was dinner with a friend and you needed to get ready.

Chatter filled the air of the patio, a small secluded outdoor space at the back of an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. It had an Old World Tuscan feel, from the stucco walls that looked purposely imperfect. Green patina shutters hung beside a wrought iron lantern that glowed in the early evening. Lush greens and bright flowers sat atop the half wall that surrounded the dining area making you forget you were in the city.

Chris looked the same, not that you expected him to be different. It had only been about two years since you’ve seen each other, right before he began training for his mission and now you can’t believe it was about to happen. Never would you have expected that the little boy down the block who became your best friend would actually be going to Mars.

For most of your lives you were in the same school, starting in Mrs. Kramer’s kindergarten class where you stuck together; two kids that were nervous about making friends and finding comfort in each other. As the years went on you weren’t always in the same classes but your friendship continued to grow. Chris was picked on for having a girl as a best friend and the girls always teased that he was your “boyfriend.” It never felt that way with Chris. He was your friend first and you never saw him as anything more. 

By the time you were in middle school Chris was already taking advanced classes in math and science and the only class you had together was art which he was famously terrible at. It was there you asked him a huge favor, whispering to him at the sink as you rinsed off your paint brushes. “Could you kiss me?” Chris turned as red as a boiling lobster, immediately sweating as if he was being roasted alive himself. It was later that day walking home from school that you clarified what you meant.

There was a boy, Justin Kaufman, who was the coolest kid in your grade. You had a crush on him like everyone else and you were shocked when he asked if you would go with him to the dance on Friday. You were worried he might try to kiss you and being inexperienced made you nervous. Justin was really popular and if you were a bad kisser then the whole school would know it. Chris was your friend, someone you trusted, someone you could practice with just to make sure you didn’t make a fool of yourself. 

You had no frame of reference for kissing back then apart from one sided smooches to pictures of movie stars that you had a crush on. But feeling Chris’ lips press back against yours was… nice. The best part about it was that things didn’t feel awkward after. Chris was still your best friend and nothing changed. 

A server hands you a menu and you thank him, scanning through it to see what you might be interested in. Chris looks up at the same time you do, wondering if you wanted an appetizer.  You nodded letting him choose, considering the limited food options he’ll have for over the next year. 

“Can you drink?”

Chris’ nose crinkled as he smiled. “In space? No. Tonight? Yes,” he chuckled softly. 

Two glasses of red wine were set on the table as you indulged in delicious food, catching up as much as you could before Chris’ mission. 

“So you’d love what happened today,” you began, leaning closer, “We filmed a restoration video and yours truly was in it.”

Chris’ eyes lit up as he gasped. “I love those! You have to send it to me. Hopefully I can see it before I go. What was it?”

“A sixteenth century European oil painting.” You went into detail and Chris loved listening to your knowledge of art history. It was no wonder that was your major, taking your studies further to work as a conservator at the Met.

Chris swallowed his food quickly to speak. “You were always good at that– art, attention to detail. Remember when we had to sculpt our own faces?” he chuckled.

There was a short burst of laughter as you remembered that day from so long ago. “Yes! Thankfully the real you doesn’t look anything like that abomination you made.” 

Chris drops his head down to hide a bashful smile that mixed in with laughter. He’s enjoying himself, catching up with you, eating. This was so good. He couldn’t help but scoop up another forkful of pasta, not expecting you to ask him a question. “So, how are you feeling?”

He paused to reflect and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “I’m nervous… excited.” Taking a sip of wine, he sets the glass down carefully on the table. Chris’ face has grown more serious. “My mom’s worried.”

“Of course she is, I don’t blame her. I’m worried. Mars is… well it’s Mars! It’s not around the block.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s definitely not.” 

Chris is heading home to Connecticut tomorrow to spend the next few days with his parents. Chloe, his younger sister is coming in as well so they can all spend some time together before he has to fly down to Florida.

“Then it’s go for launch!” he said with a beaming smile, though Chris had to correct himself for the sake of accuracy. Once he’s down there the crew has to quarantine for at least ten days and go through a bunch of pre-flight checkups and procedures first. “Are you gonna watch?”

The incredulous look you gave him answered his question. “Did you really have to ask? Of course I’m going to watch the launch.” 

His eyes twinkled as he smiled back at you. “Oh and don’t worry I put you on my contact list so you can send me emails. Not sure how quickly I'll get them since CAPCOM directs it back to us. And as long as we have the right satellite coverage we can even do video calls.”

“Like Facetime?”

“In theory yeah, more like space Skype,” he laughed. “It’ll be nice to stay in touch.”

Your smile was bright in the dimness of the evening. You can’t imagine not staying in touch with Chris. The longest you had ever gone was during his Air Force training. He checked in with his parents when he first arrived and from then on it was sporadic. You were able to send him letters though and tried to write him every week though your own schooling and an apprenticeship at the Louvre had taken up a lot of time but that was how your relationship was. 

No matter where you were in life, across the world or hovering above it in the International Space Station, you always kept in touch. It’ll be harder now considering he’s going farther than ever before but you’ll make it work. 

Chris would be back by next November and his mom was already planning a big party for his return, one he’s certain you’ll be invited to. Though you haven’t seen his parents in a while you still kept in touch with them from time to time seeing as they were still friends with your own parents.

“It’s crazy to think you’re about to go to Mars.” 

Chris swipes a palm down his mouth, leaning his elbows against the table as he muses, “I know. Feels like I got the call yesterday.”

It was a night similar to this one, where Chris was in New York celebrating with you and other friends on his selection to be part of the Ares III mission. He had been working at NASA for a few years, doing biomedical research in their center in Virginia and now he was about a month out from spending two years training for his long term mission to Mars. 

He stayed at your apartment that night, continuing the celebration in your own private way. You had come a long way from learning to kiss with Chris. It wasn’t a big deal, neither was it the first time you had sex with each other. It was a special dynamic that worked for the two of you, one you don’t think you could have pulled off with anyone else. With Chris you had trust that was built up over the years. He was safe, he was your friend and this was nothing more than just sex. 

It didn’t happen too often, a couple of times here and there. You both dated a few people over the years and even though you were single at the moment you thought about the promise you made to each other as teens. “If we’re not married to other people by the time we’re thirty let’s promise we’ll marry each other.” Such a silly promise but thirty seemed so far away at the time. 

Chris couldn’t make it to celebrate for your thirtieth birthday but you did get a card from him where he joked that the wedding was off. You were in a long term relationship, one that Chris thought would lead to marriage but you ended things a year later. It wasn’t there; that natural spark that made your heart skip a beat every time they smiled brighter than the sun, or when their eyes sparkled like stars in the night every time they looked at you. 

You walked through the streets with Chris after dinner, casually strolling back towards your apartment and stretching out the inevitable goodbye that you didn’t want to say. It was so good to be with him in person again, not realizing how badly you missed it until the hours started ticking closer towards him leaving. By the time you get to your apartment Chris decided to come up stairs, wanting to spend as much of his time with you as he could. 

Chris sits comfortably on your couch, cozied up beside a large pillow. He places his wine glass down on your coffee table, needing to gesticulate with both hands as he starts getting into talking about his research. He’s been published before in numerous academic journals and now he’s going on about how excited he is for his latest topic, musculoskeletal alterations and the effects of deep space travel. 

He’s cute when he really gets into it, crinkles pulling around the corner of his eyes as his whole face lights up. You let out a shaky breath, smiling even wider yourself as you watched the passion he had for science and learning, one that matched the level you had for art and preserving their history. 

Chris apologized for rambling on, taking a sip of wine to clear the dryness from his throat. 

“So, give me the lowdown… can you jerk off in space?” 

He covered his mouth to prevent the wine he was choking on from spitting out. You couldn’t help the sly smile on your face that cracked wider the redder he became. 

“Well?”

Chris cleared his throat again. Pinching the bridge of his nose he looked down into his glass, chuckling a bit as he said, “The official stance from NASA is no comment so I’m going to stick with that.” 

“That’s not an answer!” You could barely hold a faux sneer before you broke into a smile. Teasing Chris was all in good fun, something that went both ways from the time you were young. 

You adjusted the way your legs were folded underneath you, brushing your knee against his leg. Chris lifted his arm up, a silent invitation for you to get closer and so you did, resting your head against him as his arm came around you.

Things had quieted down and you listened to the steady beat of his heart. This would be the last time you would see Chris for a long time. Your arm reached around to hold him for as long as you could.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered against him. 

Chris’ chest sunk as he exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you too.” His arm squeezed a little tighter around you as he pressed his lips gently against your forehead. “Just look to the stars and I’ll be there.” 

His words brought a comforting smile to your face, one you shared with him as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Do you want to stay?”

The corner of his mouth tugs a little as Chris thinks about it. There’s nothing he really misses at his hotel more than he does you. The only reason he came to New York was to see you first before going home. 

“Yeah, I’d love to stay.”

You shifted yourself on top to straddle Chris, carding your fingers through his hair and taking in the gaze of his eyes that became pools of deep blue. You closed the distance between your lips, feeling his hands come around your back. Soft moans bubbled in your throat and soon you found yourself being carried to the bedroom. 

Clothes were discarded, lips were on skin that burned hotter than the stars. You writhe against him, thighs quivering around his head, reaching out to grip him by the hair, holding Chris in place as he coaxed out your release. His lips taste like you and he licks them again, savoring your sweetness as he crawls up your body. 

He tears open the condom, gathering your wetness on him as he slowly pushed in. A sinful moan falls from your lips as you feel the stretch of him inside you, inch by inch until he was fully seated. An experimental roll of his hips sets the pace for pleasure. 

Your hands graze up the curve of his arms, reaching his back and digging in half moon shapes into his skin with your nails as he thrusts into you.

“Ahh fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, moaning as his hips snapped forward. His name fell from your lips, a sweet sound that he couldn’t deny he loved hearing. 

He changed his angle, hitting you with deeper, longer strokes. His mouth found your nipple, sucking at your peak as his hips gained speed; groaning and squeezing his eyes tightly as he fucked you, ready to explode.

“Shit!” Chris hissed, backing off quickly. You’re confused and concerned, sitting up and turning the light on beside your bed to see what was wrong. “The condom broke,” he said, still catching his breath.

Chris got up to discard it in the bathroom as you sat on the bed, crossing an arm over your chest, waiting nervously. When Chris walked back in the room he apologized for that, the stiffness of his length giving you relief that he hadn’t finished so you continued. Using your hands on him as he let out soft moans, distractedly opening another condom that you rolled down on him. You straddled him, leaning forward to capture his lips for a sweet kiss first before you lined yourself up and sank down on him. 

Soon enough you were riding waves of bliss together, gripping Chris as you clenched around him, burning white hot behind your eyes. He’s right behind you, on the edge of pleasure, exploding inside you like a supernova.

Dropping your head onto his chest, it felt like your body was made of overcooked noodles that splayed loosely against him as you were desperate to catch your breath, coming down from the heights you soared to. Chris’ arms hold you close against him, his lips languidly peppering kisses to your sheen covered skin. 

When his heartbeat returned to a steady pace Chris went to the bathroom to once again discard the condom and you followed behind him to use it. He went to the kitchen to get something to drink, bringing back an ice cold glass of water for you. 

Back in bed you cuddled together, with goosebumps breaking out on your skin as Chris’ fingertips graze gently up and down your arm. Your eyes feel heavy but you don’t want to give in because when you wake up you know you’ll have to say goodbye and that’s not something you want to do. 

“You’ll stay in touch, right?” you murmured against him, as worry took root within your stomach. His quick and emphatic reply should have been enough but you couldn’t help yourself from needing to make sure you would still hear from him during the mission. “And call me? With the space Skype?”

“I promise,” he said, as a smile spread across his face. Chris’ hand stopped moving, settling on your arm and holding you close. 

“Promise me one more thing?” He hummed in response and you continued, “Stay safe up there.”

Chris tilted his head down and feeling him shift you looked up as he said, “I promise.”

In the moonlight his eyes sparkled like clear tropical waters. Slowly, a soft smile spread across your face as you stared at him. “I love you, Chris.” There was no romanticism behind it even after being together, just pure love for your friend. 

Chris exhaled, planting a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, Y/N.” 

Despite wanting to spend your remaining hours together awake you reluctantly fell asleep in his arms, tearfully parting in the morning. Two weeks later you watched as the space shuttle launched, with proud tears filling your eyes as Chris’ picture flashed on your screen along with the rest of the crew. Seeing that made you feel hopeful and overjoyed at the prospect of hearing from him soon.

“Chris… I’m pregnant.” It was a relief to finally tell him but you didn’t feel any better, uncertainty weighed heavy on your shoulders, crushing the space for your lungs to expand. Chris knows but now what?

He’s silent, his lips parted slightly and you don’t know if there’s a delay in the feed. Maybe you should have emailed it to him. You were going to at first and instead chose to word the importance of needing to speak to him in such a clandestine way that you were contacted by someone from NASA. Upon speaking to them they allowed your email to be dispatched and then you waited. 

Chris’ eyebrows knit together, his shoulders slumping down as he stared at your face through the screen. He didn’t have any doubts, you were always truthful with each other, but he still wondered how.

“We put on a new one, I thought…” 

“I thought we were good too,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. 

You weren’t just pregnant, you were pregnant with his child and based off of some quick calculations in his head you were nearing the end of your first trimester. “H-how are you? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“Physically or…” Nervous laughter bubbles out of your throat. 

This was hard on you, the physical symptoms weren’t fun but you could manage. What was more difficult was not telling anyone. It was early enough in your pregnancy that you could hide it from your family. They still lived in Hartford and hadn’t been down to visit yet but you couldn’t avoid them forever. Work was a different story. You had to let your boss know you would have to modify your duties as working around solvents and other chemicals would not be safe.

There was never a doubt in your mind about keeping the baby. When you were younger you imagined having children by now but it didn’t work out that way. It was something you were okay with, finding life fulfilling in different ways. Work was incredible, you were able to travel and though your relationships hadn’t worked out in the past you didn’t hold on to any resentments. Life was always complete and now things were going to be different. 

You wanted to speak to Chris first before telling your family because you needed to know your expectations. Chris had a life of his own and you didn’t want your choice of having a baby to make him feel obligated in any way. You were an adult; a smart, independent woman and could do this on your own.

“I know this isn’t something we planned but…” Chris exhaled, the corners of his mouth lifting upward, “There’s no one I’d rather do this with than you... I promise.” 

Chris’ eyes glisten with tears as his smile grows and you find yourself brushing away your own from the corner of your eyes. It was comforting to know Chris will be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully it would have been weird if he wasn’t in some capacity considering how close you were. For now you have a lot of time on how you’re going to figure things out for the future.

After the call Chris reflected in silence, staring out of the giant triangular windows of one of the Hermes’ common areas into the vastness of space. He was lost in thought, startled by his name being called by a crewmate. He turned to see Mark whose bright smile fell with concern upon seeing Chris’ face, asking if he was alright.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Chris responded, his tone mournful in the realization he’ll be missing the birth. He accepted the congratulatory hug Mark gave him, sighing heavily as they separated. “I always thought I’d be there for that.” 

You were due in March and Chris hated the fact that he won't be there for the first nine months of his child’s life, moments and milestones he’ll never get back. He doesn’t like leaving this all on you. He knows you can do it but you shouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t pretend this isn’t hard but don’t think of it in terms of what you’re missing, look at what you’re gaining, what you have to look forward to when you come home.” Chris nodded, his smile trying to come back. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend,” Mark teased. 

“I don’t. Y/N, she’s…” Chris’ face lights up as he thinks about you, which does not go unnoticed by Mark. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’s always meant so much to me and now…” 

Mark gave Chris an honest smile as he spoke plainly, “And now you’re having a baby.” 

With a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear he affirmed, “Yeah… we are.” 

PART 2

[emmikmil]

keep me in your heart for a while

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!reader

Word count: 6,6K

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Warnings: Mild talk of injuries, a little sad, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex (this is fantasy ok IRL wrap that shit up and be SAFE)

Summary: You help Din after a chance encounter near your home. A friends to lovers with fluff, smut, some hurt/comfort and some mild angst. Set before and during season 1 of The Mandalorian.

A/N: This is part of the sl+ discord fic exchange and I wrote this for the amazing and lovely @koskareevesismyqueen   I hope you enjoy!! Also big love to @soyelfuegoquearde for the beta read of my monster fic! Fic title is from the song Keep me in your heart by The Wailin’ Jennys <3

It takes you by surprise to hear blaster fire breaking the tranquil silence as you walk home. You had taken your bi weekly trip to the bustling city close by to stock up on supplies and it was unusual for any person, let alone people with blasters, to be nearby. Where you live is quiet and peaceful, nothing violent has happened in this small corner of the galaxy. Your house was tucked deep in the forest, nobody using this trail but you in your trips back and forth to the city. 

You step off the path slowly to lean against a nearby tree to peer over to your left. The blaster fire had ceased for a moment but it renewed again, only closer this time. You drop down quickly, your heart jumping to your throat as an odd pinging noise rattles the air, like the shots were hitting something metal and a groan echoes throughout the trees. One last shot, then silence settles in the quickly dimming forest.

You take a few moments to breathe and get your heart settled before walking on shaky legs to the path. You have to get home, you can’t dwell on whatever fight has taken place. It’s over and it was best you got home before darkfall. As you continue down the trail, your adrenaline spikes again as you hear shuffling and more groaning. You pause and swivel your head back towards the sound. You had figured with the final shots there was no one left alive. Something inside told you to go, told you someone needed help. You pace for a moment longer, mind clicking into overdrive wondering what you were going to do. With a sigh, you walk off the path again, telling yourself you would just look and see. You doubt you can fix a blaster wound, but maybe your limited knowledge could help.

You make your steps as quiet as possible as you crept to the outskirts of the scene. Before you was a man, with his hands bound in front of him and several more men lay around him. None of them were moving and you assume it wasn’t them making those noises. Rustling to your left makes your gaze snap to another man, a very large armored man.

 A Mandalorian. 

You try in earnest to contain your gasp at the sight. Your eyes grow wide and you unknowingly take a few steps forward. You had grown up on stories about the Mandalorians. Their honor and creed at the forefront of every story about the armoured warriors. They had always fascinated you as a child and now one was right in front of you. He was trying to sit up now, struggling with his leg and holding a hand to his side. Before you could take another step his other hand snapped out, leveling his blaster point blank at you without even looking up.

“No, wait sir please, don’t shoot! I heard blasters and thought someone might be hurt, I just wanted to help!” You hold up your hands for good measure and back away a few steps. He finally looks at you, studying you carefully before slowly lowering his blaster. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Can I- Will you let me help you stand up at least?” you ask, still eyeing his blaster wearily.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” His reply startles you for some reason. You thought perhaps it was the fact that a Mandalorian was speaking to you in the first place, but really it was that despite the modulator in his helmet making his voice sound tinny, it still sounded so warm. Deep, warm and husky were the best descriptions, the only thoughts flying through your brain as you stare at the sprawled out figure below you. With a small shake to your head, you drop your heavy bag and walk forward to offer up your hand. 

“You’re either very brave or not very bright for doing this-” His own words cut off with a grunt as he stands, leaning more on his right leg. He stumbles a bit before your arms reach out, grasping his forearms to steady him.

“It’s closing in on sundown, it’ll be cold. I didn’t want to leave a helpless person out in the forest alone.” You couldn’t help but huff, annoyed at his words, more so that he was somewhat right in his criticism.

“A helpless person with a blaster?”

“Hey, I only came closer because you’re a Mandalorian! Your people are honorable and you wouldn’t hurt an innocent person...right?” You hate the hesitancy in your voice, how it shakes a little in the pause before you finish your sentence. You had assumed, once he assessed you were not a threat, that the man in armor wouldn’t cause you any harm. Before you can doubt yourself or start to run, he lays a hand down gently on your shoulder.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice, while still laced in pain, was soft and comforting, soothing any panic starting to swell in you. “If you could just help me to my ship, I can patch up before heading out.” You nod and gently take his arm to place it around your shoulders, slowly starting to lead him towards the path.

“Oh, what about the uh…” you point behind you to the bounty still on the forest floor before leaning down, heaving your bag to settle on your back before adjusting the Mandalorians arm back around your shoulders.

“Leave it, I’ll come back for them in the morning.” With that, you both start towards his ship in silence, which was parked not too far away from your own home. You had heard something late the night before, chalking it up to a dream and not paying much attention to it. That had to have been when he landed. You pause again for him to catch his breath, his movements getting more lethargic, his ankle dragging worse and worse.

“How much farther is your ship again Mandalorian?” you ask while steadying his form. It was nearly black out now, the only light visible was the stars above and the small twinkle of light coming from the small lamp in your window.

“It’s just there,” he points towards the right ”just past that treeline, down the hill. Another twenty minute walk.” you bark out a laugh and pivot him back to the left.

“No way, neither of us can last that long, especially in the dark. My house is right here, I can patch you up and you can stay with me for the night. No arguing” The last bit spoken quickly when you hear him take a breath to respond. 

You already knew he was quiet and independent, and somewhat stubborn, but you were not helping this man limp another twenty minutes. You guide him up the small path to your door, leaving his side to open it and gesture him to come inside, He limps in and stands in the middle of the room, watching as you bounce around the room, putting your supplies down on the table and rummaging in a drawer in the kitchen for your small medkit. You turn back and bite your lip in thought, glancing between the large Mandalorian and the now comically sized couch and armchair behind him.

“Go through that door, my bed will be easier for me to patch you up on.” You turn, setting water to boil for some tea before following him back to your room. “You have to take off some of that armor for me to take a look…” you flush slightly as he sits rigidly on the side of your bed. You turn away fiddling with the medkit, opening it, taking out some gauze and bacta spray as the sound of armor piling up on your floor echoes around the quiet house. You turn back around as he clears his throat.

The armor covering his leg, stomach, and chest were gone leaving only his worn pants and shirt underneath. The armor piled up in the corner along with both of his boots. You gulp, shaking your head as you bend to examine his ankle. Not broken to his luck, just twisted and swollen. The graze on his side from the blaster fire didn’t look too bad either. To fill the silence as you work you half-heartedly ask the story about this bounty. To your surprise, the Mandalorian, or Mando at his request, told the story of the bounty. How it had only become trouble when several of his crooked buddies came to “rescue” their friend, but ended in all of them dying in the quick battle. You both finish around the same time and he murmurs a quiet thanks as you clean up. You gently touch his shoulder as he goes to sit up.

“Hey now Mando, keep off that ankle. You may hurt it worse moving it more tonight. You’re more than welcome to stay here tonight. I’m making tea now and I’ll bring you some food.”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble” he begins to argue, just like you knew he would, and that thought makes you smile.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to have company and...it’s cool to meet a Mandalorian. I grew up on stories about you, so-” you shrug at that, shuffling your feet before moving to the door ”besides, the bacta needs to work on that ankle. Should be fine by morning.” you threw over your shoulder before scurrying to the now boiling water. You could have sworn you heard a soft laugh but push that thought away, instead focusing on a small plate of food and tea for Mando.

-------

He sits in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, leaning his head back for a moment to watch the morning light break through the horizon. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, too on edge to rest his body how he needed to. The adrenaline of the day before from the ambush hadn’t faded as it normal did. Being hurt, feeling almost helpless as he heard a figure walk toward him. He is glad now he didn’t shoot first like he normally did. He won’t admit to being startled by this woman in the middle of forest, walking right onto a grizzly scene wanting to do nothing but help the person who was injured. It left his guard up, and he nearly rejected her, but that tree root twisted his ankle something fierce, and he was not looking forward to crawling back to his ship in the dark. 

Din knew he wasn’t the most gracious guest with his stubbornness and attitude but she didn’t even bat an eye. He hopes the credits he left on her table  would be enough to pay for the supplies she wasted on him. As he takes off, heading to take the now frozen body back to Nevarro, he finally allows his body to relax in his comfort space. He had seen very little kindness in his adult life, specifically kindness where some kind of reward wasn’t expected in return. Try as he might to ignore his exchange with the woman, images and conversation from the night before dance around in his head. He wonders when, if ever, they will fade.

-------

You admit you had been just a little disappointed that he had left so early, and he had been so incredibly silent. You had startled awake from the nest you’d made in your cozy chair well into the late morning. You had walked to your table to see his dishes from the night before, his empty tea cup and his plate that you had put bread and cheese on. You couldn’t help but laugh at the crusts, now incredibly stale, still left on the plate. The big, strong, and snarky Mandalorian didn’t like the bread crusts. Your laugh died  on your tongue as the light hit the large pile of credits stacked just behind the dishes. You shifted everything around, hoping he had left a note or explanation for the credits, but there was none to be found. 

Your mind drifts to him often in the next several weeks. Every time you use the credits you thought of him. You spent them to restock your med kit, and even treat yourself to some books you had been eyeing for too long now. Sometimes at night, curled in your chair by the fire with your new books your mind would wander. Mostly you wonder if he thought about you, if his own mind drifts to the quiet night you two had shared. It hadn’t been much. After patching him up you brought him some food and tea, slinking away with heat flooding your face when you realized he couldn’t take off his helmet in front of you. You two talked a bit later that night, when you came to check his ankle before bed. He had been quiet and watchful of every move you made. He did answer the few questions about his creed that you just couldn’t help but ask. You wish now that you had asked more, wanting to hear his voice more, but all you could do was commit the moments to memory, a tale to tell your future children of how you saved a real Mandalorian. 

Perhaps that is why you were so gobsmacked when said Mandalorian walked up to you several weeks later as you tend to the garden. His shadow engulfing your frame as you crouch, urging the crooked plant to stand upright.

“Are you...here for a bounty or something? I-shit i’m sorry that was rude.” You can’t help but smile as his shoulders shook under the armor as you fidget with your gloves.

“Had to stop and get supplies. Figured I would come see if you’ve saved any other strangers in the forest.” you scoff at his teasing tone, standing up to brush the dirt off your legs.

“I did actually, they even ate the crusts on their bread, unlike the last guy.” Your glare and cocky smirk  melt away to a large smile as the Mandalorian barks out a real genuine laugh. “Come on now Mando, I’ll put on some tea.” 

This interaction happens time and time again, he would stop by every month or so on his way to turn in bounties. After a few visits he brought you different teas he would find in markets around the galaxy, or even a book he thought you would like. The air between you two was easy, and you could tell he was more and more comfortable, having no problem lounging by the fire listening to your rattle on about the book you were reading or what your friends had been up to in the city. He never stayed overnight at your house again, but he would stay late sometimes and those were your favorite times. 

You two would sit close and talk more seriously, leaving your usual joking and playful banter to die out with the sunlight. He told you of his parents, his childhood, his early days when he was reckless and wild. In turn you shared your secrets, troubles and your dreams. Mando may not be the most talkative during some visits but he was always so attentive, soaking up every word you said. It was one of those moments where he first called you cyare instead of your name. As you looked at him confused, he confessed, quite nervously in fact, that it meant friend in mando’a and your heart swelled. You knew he was alone a lot of the time and it sent warmth  to flood your body knowing that he considered you a friend, a real friend. 

Before you knew it, it had been over a year since you two had first met. You never quite knew when he would arrive, but he did each time, gift in hand asking if you had picked up any more wayward strangers and each time you would accept his present and roll your eyes as he laughs. You believe it was in these moments, in the playful jabs, the afternoons spent talking, that you felt the joy of friendship blossom into a yearning unlike anything you've ever felt. It made you happy to be his friend, even if it stings with the wish to be more than that. So you took each visit and savored the moments,

This latest visit was on the shorter side, with him being behind from hunting someone down and he needed to turn them in ASAP. Yet  he still stopped in to see you, handing you more of your newfound favorite tea. Time went by fast as you talk and catch up and soon enough he stands, heading for your door before turning to look at you.

"Be safe cyare, don't bring home any strangers." You roll your eyes playfully like always

"You too big guy, watch out for those tree roots on your way out!" Your giggle echoes behind you as he dramatically flings your door open and strolls out to his ship. You follow and wave from your doorway as he leaves, only going inside as you see him fly away. Your heart aches but your usual goodbyes always soften the blow of his absence, the nicknames and inside jokes bringing a smile to your face,

You just wished that you savored that last visit more, wished it had been longer. That last goodbye echoed in your mind as the next month comes and goes with no sign of Mando. Then two months, then three pass with nothing. His voice bounced in your mind, echoing in the silent nights. You knew how dangerous his job was, had seen a small portion of it first hand, but you never questioned the possibility of him just being...gone. 

You had no way of communicating with him, knew of nobody else he knew. Asking around the town was hopeless, and with every month that passed, the more your heart cracked open.  By the sixth month you just stopped hoping, stopped imagining him walking through your doorway. You continued with life, work, friends, and shopping. Before you always enjoyed taking walks through the forest, but now it left such an ache in your chest, passing the spot near your home where you first met him. Going back and forth to the city was now a dreaded task that you put off as long as possible.

This is where you find yourself now, hurrying past that area with your head down, swallowing down all your emotions. Your only focus right now was to get in the house, put your items away and lose yourself in a book to unwind. You repeat this like a mantra in your mind, focusing so heavily on it that hearing your name almost makes you stumble backwards. Your head snaps up, eyes widening as you take in the sight of Mando walking towards you. The moment feels like it’s in slow motion, feeling so dreamlike and it's not until he touches your face with his gloved hand that the spell breaks. With a gasping sob you throw yourself into his body, holding him for dear life and whimpering out his name as you try to catch your breath.

"Oh cyare, I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I could."  He held you right to his chest as he soothes your hair back. He kept murmuring apologies softly in your ear as your cries finally dwelled and you two stand like this, clinging to each other in relief, only breaking away when a soft coo sounds from somewhere behind Mando. You sniffle and peek behind his body, seeing an orb floating midair with a small bundle inside. You look between the orb and Mando before stepping around him and walking forward. Sitting up inside the orb was the cutest little green baby staring up at you.

“Well hi there little one.” you say as you bend down to be at eye level with the baby. He stares at you with his large dark eyes before making another cooing sound and holding his tiny arms out to you. You glance back at Mando who nods, and you carefully nestle the baby in the crook of your arm, being careful of the obnoxiously big ears that now wiggle as he smiles up at you. The baby’s smile widens and he makes an almost purring sound as Mando walks up, placing one hand on your lower back and the other to pat the baby’s head with gentle affection. You smile as you look up at Mando. “Seems like you’re the one picking up strangers now, huh?” The low laugh Mando makes sets your heart leaping from your chest. You must be making a face because he slowly starts to rub circles into your back.

“It’s a long story, but the kid and I can stay awhile If...that’s alright with you?” He seems nervous and hesitant asking this, but on instinct you grab his hand and pull him towards your front door,

“I’ve got all the time in the world Mando. I’ll make tea and food while you talk.”

For the rest of the afternoon and early evening Mando tells you everything that happened with this small bounty, his change of heart, the harrowing close encounters and the overall life on the run these two had endured. While it hurt knowing how hard Mando pushed and fought to keep them safe, it made you happy that he wasn’t alone. It was easy to see how close they had grown, how much of a protective father he has become over this magically inclined green baby. 

The baby quickly attaches to you, eating up every ounce of food you offer him, and you give Mando a knowing look as the baby eats every piece of bread, even the crust. As darkness falls, the baby is put to bed, easily going down from his busy afternoon and silence takes over. Mando fidgets, seeming uncomfortable much like his first visit here and it sets you on edge.

After a while he finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry again, you know it wasn’t safe to come here before. I couldn’t bring any danger to you. I know you were lonely-”

“Wait, wait. Lonely? You think I was upset because I had been lonely?” Your harsh tone cutting him off made Mando pause and shake his head.

“That’s not what i meant cyare-” You stand up abruptly, shaking your head at him, cutting off his words again

“I thought you were dead. This entire time Mando. I thought all I would ever have are the memories of our stories, our jokes, that your laugh would haunt my dreams. Don’t get me started on that damn nickname you call me,” you stop yourself before you wake the baby and try to compose yourself. Your hand goes to your heart, almost shielding it before you force yourself to take a breath and look Mando straight on. “This wasn’t a friend leaving with no contact for months. It meant so much more- you mean so much more.” 

Your confession hangs there between the two of you, making the air so thick in its resounding silence that you turn away, but a gentle hold on your wrist stops you from moving away. At his whisper of your name you turn, seeing him stand up slowly.

“Cyare means beloved.”

Those three words knock every ounce of air out of you and you blink away tears as you stare at him in wonder. “Mando does that...mean that you-”

“Yes, for a long time now.” He steps forward and bends his head, bringing your foreheads to touch. You then take hold of either side of his helmet, bringing him down even more so that you press your lips to his forehead. After he lets out a shaky exhale he asks quietly “Do you trust me?”

Without even an ounce of hesitation, you answer “Yes, absolutely I trust you.”

He gently takes your hand and  leads you back to your bedroom. He pushes the door open and closes it as you walk in. You hope he can't hear how loud you swallow as he closes the curtains, blocking out the moonlight and plunging the room in complete darkness.

The next moments would be engraved into your mind for the rest of your days. A gentle hiss filled the room before you felt hot air near your face. “Can I kiss you cyare?” His lips are so close to yours and you shiver as your mind struggles to catch up. With a hitch in your breath you realize…

His helmet. He took off his helmet.

With that realization you surge forward, pressing your lips to his and throwing your hands up and forward to bury themselves in his hair. Mando lets out a small gasp at the contact, the true first bit of touch he’s felt on his face, and you take the opportunity to gently slide your tongue inside his mouth; Deepening the kiss makes both of your brains go fuzzy and it's a sloppy and beautiful tangle of lips and tongues. You have no idea how long you two stand there and kiss, learning and exploring each other’s mouths, but you wish with every bit of your heart that this moment, this feeling, everything that you’re experiencing with him will never end.

However it does have to end, and you break apart to catch your breath, noses touching as you both pant. Mando takes no time however, and presses wet kisses all over your face, seeming to not want to keep his lips off of you. You giggle at his affection, pulling him closer to slow his movements, fumbling in the dark to find his lips as you kiss him sweetly before pulling away once more. “Let's catch our breath a bit, Mando.” He’s so close to you, you can feel his lips turn up into a small smile. 

"Sorry, got carried away there. I've never…" At his pause you want to smack yourself, remembering just how important this was. To take his helmet off to kiss you, even in the dark? You wonder exactly how inexperienced he is but his voice returns once more. "I don't regret it, this was-this was worth waiting for."

One of your hands leaves his hair and you cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath your palm. "Oh Mando, I-"

"Din. My name's Din. You can use it if...you'd like to." 

You felt his jaw shake under your palm, could damn near taste his nervousness and that just wouldn't do. You whisper his name against his lips before diving back into his kisses. At this his resolve seems to snap and his hands tentatively start to wander from their place on your waist, one tracing up and down your spine while the other grips your hip.

You slowly start to walk him backward towards your bed, but Din surprises you as he flips you two around and falls back, sending you both tumbling onto the bed. The movement was so quick and unexpected you couldn’t help but let out a giggle as you cuddle up to him and continue to press kisses on his lips, the tip of his nose, and back to nip at his jaw. That contentment you both had just standing and kissing in your room fades as his body settles next to yours. You lay on your sides facing each other, sharing kisses wherever you could reach. 

Before things could go further, you had a burning question to ask. "Din we can just do this. I don't want to pressure you into more, especially if this is your first time and-"

His laugh was somehow even more enchanting outside of the helmet and butterflies erupt in your chest before bursting into flames as he speaks. "I meant I had never kissed before, I have done...other things before, just with the helmet on."

You can't help but nuzzle his nose with affection before whispering "I want this if you do Din." The moment his pleas left his mouth you threw your leg over his hip and try to grind down on him as you pull him into a searing kiss.

He sighs into the kiss before he pulls away and starts tearing away his armor and clothes. At least that is what you assume he's doing by the dull thuds and clanks and muttered curses. You take the hint too, quickly peeling off your clothes. As you finish you feel his bare hand reach for you and he pulls you back into him, throwing your leg over his now bare hip and putting his lips back onto yours.

This lit a fire in you, unlike anything you’ve known. You wanted him now, needed all of him or else flames would consume every part of you. It took you a moment to realize the high-pitched whine you heard didn’t come from Din. He was currently whispering your name with his hand gripping your hip, stilling your hips.

“I just need, please I just-let me kiss you. I want to taste you, please.” he whispers against your lips and the desperate sound of his voice breaks through the kiss driven lust inside your brain. You remember with a jolt that he’s never kissed anyone, never tasted anyone before,and you take in a shaky breath before rolling onto your back. You couldn’t name what exactly that swell of emotions was inside you as he began to place kisses over your face and down your neck. Knowing that you are the first person he’s ever wanted or trusted to kiss brings a flood of warmth to your chest. That warmth however quickly rushed down to your abdomen as Din licks the hollow of your throat and presses a small kiss there. He takes his time as he kisses down over your heart and further to your breasts

He spends longer there than you expect, very clearly enjoying the feel of them in his hands as he massages and kisses every inch of them. He’s sucked more bruises on your breast than anything but you have no heart to complain. He only stops when you finally beg him to move, and he mutters a quick apology as he kisses and licks to your stomach. His hands move to your knees and prys your thighs apart. As he settles lower to place kisses along your inner thigh he stops. You realize with a rush of heat to your face, just how wet your thighs had become. You had been rubbing them together trying to find any relief as he devoured every inch of your breasts and you didn’t realize just how wet it made you. You suck in a breath as you feel Din’s fingers lightly trace over your slit and he groans as realization also settles in for him.

“We’ve barely...I haven’t even touched you here and you’re already this wet for me?” you can’t help but let out a breathless laugh at his voice, which sounds like he is in complete awe of you. Before you can reply his head dips down, licking your arousal from your thighs. He takes great care in licking both thighs clean and you nearly cry in relief when he licks from your entrance to your clit in one slow movement. You can feel his hands shake as he holds your thighs apart and slowly works you over with his tongue. 

You know Din has never done this before, so you let him explore you like this, enjoying the sensations of his mouth all over your pussy. His unsure kisses around your lips, the long licks up your slit gave way to him being more confident with your hums and gasps of approval urging him forward. While it feels amazing, you need more, so you take his hair in your hand and with a slight tug, you get his attention.

“Up here, right here at my clit just-” you let out a choked out gasp as he licks right where you need it. “There Din, just suck there and- and put your fingers inside me, just one to start.” Din was all too eager to please you and gently sucks on your clit while he pushes one of his thick fingers inside you. You kept one hand twisted around his hair and the other to cover your mouth from the very loud moans now tumbling out. With a particularly harsh suckle, you gripped his hair even more, pushing him forward as your hips lift to grind down onto his face. The vibrations from Din groaning into your heat only magnifies the feeling and you melt, doing nothing but writhe and muffling your gasps and moans. As you feel a second finger breach you to join the first, his other hand curling around your wrist near your mouth. You close your lips to try and keep quiet as Din gently pulls your hand down to the mattress and intertwines your fingers together.

“I want to hear you, please, I want to listen to you fall apart.” His lips barely leave you, his warm breath coming out in pants over your sensitive clit, the puffs of air sending goosebumps down your whole body. With that, he returned to licking, sucking, and even biting a little, and soon enough, you did exactly as he asked. You didn’t hold back the sounds and moans spewing from your mouth and you damn near scream his name as a third finger entered you just as your orgasm hit. His fingers never let up their steady rhythm, only slowing when your body releases from its rigid state and you melt into the blankets beneath you. You twitch and sigh as you feel his fingers leave you and his tongue replaces them, gently licking you, drinking up every bit of your release.

As your breathing slows back to normal, you feel Din shift between your thighs, and you hear him grunt as a slick sound fills the room. The heat that melted from your body with your orgasm came back tenfold when you realize those slick sounds were Din stroking his cock. Stroking himself with the hand that was just moments ago finger fucking you, making his cock slick and preparing to enter you.  Your every thought was lost in a lusty haze that you didn’t realize you began to murmur the word please over and over again, Din leans over you, pressing his lips to yours softly to quiet you down.

“Are you ok? You want to keep going?” His questions were so sincere, it was made funnier when you realize the fingers cupping your cheek were the same that were buried inside you and stroking his cock only moments before. Grinning, you push forward, kissing the edge of his mouth softly before wrapping your legs around his waist to guide him to fit perfectly between your open thighs.

“Yes, I’m good, please let’s keep going.” With that Din seals his lips to yours and shifts, slowly pressing inside you. You only broke the kiss when Din finally bottomed out, parting to both groan as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock stretches you just enough to almost be painful before it fades out into pure bliss as he grinds into you. You cling to his back as he starts to move. He keeps his thrusts shallow and deep, keeping himself buried in you as much as possible. All you can do is hold on for dear life as he steadily fucks you deeper into the mattress. His lips never leave your skin, mostly he keeps them on your lips to swallow down every gasp you let out. From this angle, his pubic hair was giving just the smallest bit of friction to your clit and while it feels good, you need a new angle. With every bit of force you can muster you clamp your thighs around him and roll the both of you over so you loom over him.

“Was that not good? Was I-" you cut off the questions  with a mess of a kiss, and even if he can't see you, you gave him the biggest grin.

"Wanted to try something new. I can't let you always be in control Din, you have to learn to share." And with that you grind down and circle your hips, grinning even more at the gasp and slew of curses that escaped his lips. You set a faster past than before,  the fire building inside was growing stronger with each second. Next time you tell yourself, next time you two will take it slow. Right now all that matters is the burning in your belly, the chills crawling up your spine, and Din moaning your name into the dark room.

It seems it is Din’s turn, his patience snapping, he moves his iron grip on your hips to your ass, gripping them as he slams you down onto him as he thrusts up. This sucks every bit of air from your lungs and you fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest as he picks up the pace. Just as your breath returns to you and you moan, the air whooshes back out of your lungs as Din spits out through clenched teeth. “That’s my good girl, I knew you could take my cock so well. So. Fucking. Well.” Each of his last words were punctuated by bone rattling thrusts and you scream into his chest before sitting up, prying one of Din’s hands off your ass, bringing it to your clit. He takes the hint and swirls tight and fast circles around you and it is just what you need. With a broken cry you fall apart, collapsing back onto his chest and groaning into his shoulder. Din holds you close and meets his end after a few more thrusts, clutching your back and burying his face into your hair. You two lie there tangled together until you can catch your breaths. Eventually you lean up and you giggle as you try and fail to find his lips. He chuckles too as your lips find his cheek and chin before finally pressing against his lips. You kiss lazily like this, basking in the afterglow; tongues tangling, your hands twisted in his hair, and his nails slowly tracing lines up and down your back.

Din is the first to pull away, rolling you both over to the side before he starts to pull away.

“No, stay” you mumble groggily, the emotions and actions of the day weighing heavily on your now sated body.

“I’ll be back, we need to clean up.” he huffs as you whine and paw at his body, but Din easily gives in, letting you win this battle. He gladly lets you position him back down, lying flat on the bed as you cuddle into his chest.

“Clean later, just hold me for a bit.” He kisses your forehead and you hum in contentment. As your body falls deeper into relaxing, sleep slowly taking over, you hear him speak quietly, lips till pressed to your head.

“Good night cyar'ika.” 

This rouses you from your sleepy state enough to ask, “that one doesn’t mean friend, right?” You smile as you feel his body shake beneath you as he laughs.

“No, it doesn’t mean friend. Good night Darling.” 

You both fall asleep with smiles on your faces and hearts fuller than either of you even knew possible.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if... Part2

(Amazed and honoured at the reception of this one! So very happy y’all enjoyed this little AU that I was NOT going to write xD And thank you for the reblogs and comments, you wonderful people you! <3

 For the record, I still blame you @phrenic-a and @mountevey And I see you encouraging them @novembermurray ! )

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Part 2

She’s lost her mind. Dulsissa has thought this very thought many times during these last three months, but stars above; she really must have lost her mind now.

The Mandalorian, Davarax, is a complete stranger. She doesn’t know anything about him, only some fragments about his children that she has a feeling are real but might as well not be. And here she is holding her son’s hand and following this man to his ship, fully prepared to board it with him and go some place she has no idea where is to stay with a people she has no clue who are.

“This is your ship?” Corin asks with slight disbelief when they come to a halt in front of it.

Like Davarax’ armor, the ship has seen better days.

Embarrassed by her son’s words, Dulsissia gives Corin’s hand a warning squeeze and sends him a stern look that makes him shrink a little and shuffle his feet.

-Think it, don’t speak it, she’s told him countless times. His honesty will cost him one day.

Davarax snorts an amused laugh, saunters forward to reach out and place an affectionate hand to the ship’s hull. He pets it a couple of times like it’s a living creature. “She might not be the fanciest, but..” The helmet turns to look back at Corin. “I can promise you, Corin, you won’t find a better ship in the Galaxy. The Razor Crest is tough, fast and loyal. Treat her right and she’ll look after you.”

The disdain in Corin’s eyes is replaced with awe. “Really?” He whispers.

“Really.” Davarax confirms, giving the ship a final pat before lowering his arm to press a button on his vambrace. There is a click and a hum and the ship opens a side door, lowering a ramp for them to enter. “Let’s go.”

Dulsissia smiles a little as she follows Davarax inside and how Corin now is pulling eagerly at her hand to make her hurry up. A magical ship is irresistible to a little boy, while she tries hard to ignore the scorch marks she sees on the hull and the ominous weapons attached to it.

Inside, the ship is a lot roomier than she expected it to be. The cargo area makes for a great playground for Corin. The sleeping quarters are narrow, but she doesn’t require much space and Corin even less so. The cockpit is fascinating, she’s never been in one before.

And neither has Corin.

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia reaches out to pull Corin away when he walks right up to the control panel after Davarax has found his place in the pilot seat and watches with utmost amazement as he starts flipping switches and pushing buttons to bring the ship to life. “Come here. Don’t bother Davarax.”

“It’s okay.” Davarax reassures her. He glances over at the boy. “You want to help, young sir?”

Corin nods, too overwhelmed to talk.

“Flip that one.” Davarax points at a tiny switch and Corin instantly reaches out and flips it. “Good job. And now press that button.” He lifts the boy up so he can reach the button in the ceiling.

Dulsissia bites her lower lip to keep from getting too emotional as she watches her son eagerly obey instructions and soaking up every bit of encouragement and praise from the Mandalorian, starved for both after all the years his father gave him none. It hurts to watch how such simple kindness from a man stuns Corin but it is also so good to see her son this happy. Maybe she didn’t lose her mind when she decided to go with Darvarax, maybe it was the one good choice she’s made since deciding to leave Macero? She hopes.

“Okay, ad’ika.” Davarax says. “The Razor Crest is awake. Time for you to get in your seat.” He nudges Corin, who reluctantly wanders over to the one seat left after his mother claimed the one behind Davarax. He climbs, with a little difficulty, up on it, and settles. A tiny boy in a big seat.

Dulsissia moves over to buckle him in and frowns. He’s too small. It won’t keep him safe at all.

Without looking over at them, Davarax makes some final adjustments on his panel. “Next to the seat. On the left. There’s this box he can sit on. I use that when I bring Din or Barthor along.”

Dulsissia blinks. It’s not something she’d picture a mercenary to have on his ship. But a peek down the side does indeed reveal a box and once Corin is sitting on that, he gets a better view, to his delight, and the belts actually fit him instead of choking him, to her relief.

The ship takes off and sets course for the darkness above. Dulsissia is not sorry to leave this place.

Now all she has to worry about is what Nevarro is like and how the Mandalorians will react to Davarax bringing home a stray and her offspring. She wonders if the other Mandalorians are like Davarax, if she will get to meet his children and most important of all; will Corin like it there?

-

The journey to Nevarro will take two standard days. It’s strange how two days on a small ship with her husband or her friends would have driven her insane, but the hours on board the Razor Crest feel safe and almost enjoyable as Davarax’ patience with her son’s continued craving for his attention and praise.

Every time her boy butts into whatever the Mandalorian is doing, calls for him to look at what he is doing instead, Dulsissia feels a stab of dread, waiting to hear the sharp annoyance that would always follow his attempts to reach his father, but every time Davarax replies with mild amusement and eternal patience. He even brings Corin along to ‘help’ with some repairs in the cargo area and leaves her to just rest or whatever she feels like doing.

With there being no place for the man to run off with her child, it’s not like he’ll jump into space with him, and a growing trust in Davarax, Dulsissia ends up sitting in the cockpit like an idiot and having no clue what to do. It’s been almost five years since she didn’t spend every second of her day hovering over Corin.

After what feels like a small eternity of just sitting there, listening to the muffled voices from the cargo hold, Dulsissia notices her reflection in the transparisteel and slowly lifts a hand to her blond locks. Oh, she looks a mess. No wonder Davarax had decided she needed help; she looks like a wookiee.

When Davarax and Corin returns to the cockpit, she has eased the final hairpin into place and her sweet boy lights up at the sight of her. He runs over, places his hands on her knees and looks up at her with a smile so bright it makes her smile as well. “Wow. You look really pretty, mommy.”

Davarax ruffles Corin’s hair as he walks by him on the way to the pilot seat. “She always does, ad’ika.”

Her face burns for some reason. Dulsissia pulls Corin up to sit on her lap and she changes the topic. “What does that mean? You keep calling him that.”

“It’s from my language. Mando’a.” Davarax replies, fidgeting with something on the panel to see if the repairs were successful. “It’s what we call our youngsters.”

Smiling, oddly pleased with the answer, Dulsissia looks down and sees Corin has gotten oil on his face and starts the battle of wiping it away while he tries to squirm free.

It’s not just Corin who gets to learn new things. On the second day, while her boy sleeps, Dulsissia takes out the blade Davarax had given her and tests the weight and feel of it. Wearing a dress restricts the movement of her legs a bit, so she’ll need to have a good idea of how to use her arms. Make the most of what she can use.

She feels stupid, waving the blade around, pretending to stab an invisible opponent, but Dulsissia gets so into it that she’s entirely unprepared for a hand suddenly gripping her wrist.

Startled, she flinches and almost drops the knife.

“Not like that.” Davarax’ voice says from behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach.

His gloved hand slides over her pale one and helps her turn the blade so she holds it in a reverse grip instead.

“Like this. It will give you more options during an attack and more power. More power to do more damage. Plus,” Davarax steps closer and slides his other arm loosely around her waist in a slight mimicry of how those men had grabbed her, “you can do this.”

The hand on hers adds a little pressure and makes her lower her arm in a careful swing until the blade goes by her thigh and the tip comes to a halt against the front of his thigh.

“And when the blade is in, you twist.” His voice is so calm. And so close. If not for the helmet, she suspects she’d feel his words on her neck. “Understand?”

Dulsissia gives a quick little nod. Her eyes probably as big as Corin’s tend to get around this man.

“Good.” Davarax lets her go and circles to stand in front of her. “Now, if someone approaches you from the front, what you should do is-”

She still feels silly, waving the blade around and Davarax letting her practice on him when he could disarm her without even looking her way, but at the end of that first session; Dulsissia knows where to aim and how to do as much damage as possible.

Also, when the Mandalorian hands out praise, she can’t blame her son for wanting more because she realizes that she hasn’t heard too much of that in her own lifetime either and it feels really, really good to finally think she’s not hopeless at least.

-

When they land on Nevarro, Dulsissia can’t help but to feel nervous again. She picks up Corin, who allows it with a resigned sigh, and holds him close while following Davarax off the ship. The journey has been another respite before facing her difficult situation, but it’s over now.

Time to find out what will be next for her and her baby.

Davarax leads her through the dusty city, Dulsissia places a protective hand on Corin’s head and shields him from seeing leers and sneers sent their way, and they finally reach a door that brings them underground to the hidden Covert of the Mandalorians.

It’s dark below and it takes a while for Dulsissia’s eyes to adjust so she doesn’t see them until she’s walking right by the other Mandalorians, who stand there, staring at her with emotionless t-visors.

Flinching with a startled sound, she jumps forward and nearly bumps into Davarax’ back.

“They won’t harm you.” Davarax says, not turning around or even slowing his walk. “You’re safe.”

Looking around as they walk, Dulsissia hopes he is right, because there are quite an amount of armored people there and they aren’t exactly rolling out a welcoming committee. “If you say so.”

In the depths of the tunnels, they approach what appears to be the seat of power, judging by the decorations and respectful behaviour of the ones there.

They have taken one step inside the room, it appears to some kind of a forge, when Davarax stops and Dulsissia follows his example. “Stay here.” He says. “Only speak when spoken to.”

She then watches in silence as he steps forward and walks over to kneel down in front of the forge where a Mandalorian in a golden armor and a fur cloak is working on something. Minutes pass and Dulsissia has to hoist Corin a couple of times as the boy really is getting heavy, but they all wait for what has to be the leader of the Mandalorians to finish whatever they are working on.

Finally the one in the golden helmet puts the hammer down, lingers and walks over to where Davarax is kneeling. “Did you complete your mission?”

Davarax reaches into the pocket of his belt, fishes out a handful of valuables and places them on the ground as an offering.

The leader looks at what he has brought, gives a thoughtful nod and then shifts her attention to Dulsissia. “And you have brought something else to the Covert as well.”

“They need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”

“A foundling is always welcome.” The leader replies in a neutral voice. “This other one does not look like a warrior.”

“She has the makings of one.” Davarax counters in an equally neutral voice. “She will be my responsibility. Both of them.”

“Very well.” The leader says, but she does not sound pleased. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Davarax echoes. He gets up and walks out of the room, only pausing to give Dulsissia’s arm a light touch to signal her to follow him. She does.

Once they are at a certain distance from the room and the leader, Dulsissia hoists Corin, who she suspects is too scared by these new surroundings to say anything, and voices her thoughts. “She doesn’t want me here.”

Davarax does his little trademark huff of a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dulsissia sighs and hoists Corin a little again. Her arms are burning. She does not expect Davarax to come to an abrupt halt, forcing her to stop as well, and turn around to hold out his arms.

“Give him to me.”

Dulsissia clutches Corin a little closer and stares at him with surprise at his betrayal.

His helmet tilts a little and Davarax is the one to sigh. “Just until I can show you your room.”

She hesitates for several seconds. What convinces her is Corin pushing away from her and reaching out to him, and only then does Dulsissia hand her son over to the Mandalorian and awkwardly wraps her arms around herself instead.

Corin quickly settles on Davarax’ arm and looks around with bright, curious eyes from his new and taller perch.

The Mandalorian reaches out his free hand and gently touches by her shoulder. “Come.” He says, not unkindly. “Let me show you where you’ll stay.”

-

The door slides open. Stepping inside, Davarax following her with Corin, Dulsissia looks around and finds it small and modest but far cleaner and inviting than some of the inns she and her son have stayed at during these last weeks. There are no windows, but there is a light in the ceiling.

There are two beds, a rickety looking table and some hooks in the wall to hang clothing on.

“It’s not much, I know.” Davarax sounds a bit awkward. “But it will be yours.” Dulsissia looks over at him with a grateful smile. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Davarax turns sideways and points at the door they can see across the hallway. “That’s me. If you need anything.” He puts Corin down on his own two feet and lets him run over to climb into the closest bed and start jumping on it.

“Corin, baby, no.” Dulsissia says, meeting the defiant look he sends her way with a stern look of her own and feels a smug sense of victory when the boy sits down with an annoyed huff. She can then turn her attention back to Davarax. “You have done so much for us already. How can I ever repay you?”

He seems surprised by her words and it takes a second before he shakes his head. “There is nothing to repay. You don’t owe me anything. Neither does your boy. I just want you two to be safe.”

Dulsissia has to turn away to hide her eyes flooding with tears. She’d given up on there being decent people in the Galaxy and then she had to stumble across the most noble of them all?

“I’ll, uh, give you some time to settle in. Get some rest.” Davarax mumbles, backing out of the room. “I’ll be back later. I’ll see if I can get you some spare clothes. I know there are some for Corin. And then I’ll show you two around. Sounds good?”

“Will you show me the training room?” Corin asks with badly hidden hope.

“Absolutely, young sir.” Davarax replies with a bow that has Corin giggle with delight.

When the door slides shut behind the Mandalorian, Dulsissia walks over to sit next to her sweet boy and combs her fingers through his thick, dark hair. “We are going to stay here for a while, baby. Okay?”

Corin nods eagerly and gives her another gap-toothed smile. “Yeah! Dav’rax gonna show me where he trains to fight bad guys. Maybe he can teach me too?”

“We’ll see.” Dulsissia replies, unwilling to make any promises on behalf of the man. While she’d prefer her son to never see battle in his lifetime, she’s not stupid. Once she chose to leave Seswenna, she condemned them both to an existence where they both will have to learn to defend themselves.

She and Corin explore the room, discover there is a barely visible door on the western wall that leads to what has to be the Galaxy’s tiniest refresher room, and they play-fight over who gets which bed, but in the end there isn’t all that much to do but wait for Davarax to return.

When there finally is a knock on the door, both Dulsissia and Corin eagerly jump to their feet and is equally pleased to see the now almost familiar Mandalorian. Dulsissia is fairly certain she’d be able to recognize his helmet and armor in a sea of others at this point.

Davarax holds out a small pile of clothes. “This will at least give you something to change into.”

Accepting the gift, Dulsissia manages another smile, despite once again feeling the bite of humiliation. She thinks about the gorgeous dresses she used to wear. The adorable outfits she had made for Corin. She’ll probably be the first Motti to ever use second-hand clothing… Then she snaps out of it and clutches the clothes close with a sense of appreciation instead. “Thank you.”

“And you, ad’ika, are you ready to check out your new home?” Davarax asks Corin.

“Yes, sir!” Corin replies, back straight and eagerness barely contained.

The Covert, as she understands it is called, is a complicated network of hallways and tunnels. It used to be the old sewers of Neverro, Davarax explains and Dulsissia tries not to shudder. At least Macero won’t think to look for them here.

The other Mandalorians are still staring quietly at her, but the ones Davarax introduces her to give her a polite nod at least. They don’t seem hostile, but they aren’t exactly brimming with hospitality either. Dulsissia suspects that maybe they don’t get too many visitors in their underground home.

She minds her manners, tries to not offend anyone and considering that none of them draw their frankly intimidating blasters says she might not be doing the worst job of it. Dulsissia used to be so very good at socializing. She was the queen of all the balls back on Seswenna. Now she’s only hoping not to offend.

“And I saved the best for last.” Davarax says with the excitement she usually hears from her son. He stops by a door, turns to face her and lets his hand over over the button to open. “My kids.”

Dulsissia has just enough time to feel both surprise and nervousness and then the door slides open.

-

Lined up in a neat row, clearly having been given firm instructions to be followed when Davarax brought her and her son, four children stand in the middle of what looks like a training room and stare at the new arrivals.

The one of the left has to be Paz. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was sixteen, not eleven. He’s a lot taller than the others, but lacks the lankiness that would usually follow such an early height growth. He has the powerful bones to carry the height, but a child’s face. Paz’ dark hair is cut entirely short except for the unruly spikes on top, his mouth is a thin, disapproving line and his big hands are clenched. Next to him, barely reaching his team-mate’s shoulder, is the one that has to be Barthor. He has curly, dark hair that is getting a bit long, scarecrow shoulders and sharp eyes that are locked on Dulsissia like he’s seeing her with a crosshair on her forehead. Next to him is definitely Raga. Like Barthor, she’s small and skinny, but she has the most amazing hair Dulsissia has ever seen. It is a wild mess, but the volume and the curls are stunning. Too bad the glare behind the mane warns her that she’ll get her fingers bit off if she so much as tries to touch it. And then, half hidden behind Raga, is the one Davarax keeps referring to as ‘little Din’. He’s not especially small for his age, but he appears to be a lot more timid than the others. He is very cute, though, with silky dark hair and soulful eyes.

Davarax walks over and starts introducing each child. Dulsissia is pleased to hear she’s guessed right about their identities and gives a brief curtsy. “Pleased to meet you. I am Dulsissia.”

Silence.

Davarax reaches out and pokes a finger at Paz’ head. “Hey.”

Paz’ nose twitches, like a hound about to bare its teeth, then he reluctantly steps forward until he stands in front of her and he reaches out a hand. “I’m honoured to meet you.”

Trying to hold back an amused smile and failing to a certain degree, Dulsissia takes his hand and he shakes hers with a stern look on his little face, trying so hard to act like an adult. She has to stop herself from hugging him. It’s so cute.

Barthor gives her a nod, which is good enough for her but gets an annoyed sigh from Davarax. Raga moves forward, Din following her like a tail, and she seems more interested in something behind Dulsissia.

What… Oh. Right.

Dulsissia reaches back and ushers Corin out from his hiding place. “This is Corin. Say hello Corin.”

“Hello.” He says in a tiny voice, looking from one to the other and probably feeling like prey. She doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t really played with other children before. Macero didn’t think it would be good for him to mix with others. And these ones are already being trained to be warriors.

Paz frowns and crossed his arms. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Corin blinks. “I…”

“They are going to stay with us. That’s all you need to focus on, Paz.” Davarax replies.

“Is he going to train with us?” Barthor asks, his eyes still too sharp for someone so young.

“We haven’t decided that yet.” Davarax says and glances over at Dulsissia.

“He should play with us.” Raga says, her lip curling in something that could be a smile but is mostly a flash of teeth. When Corin shuffles to partially hide behind Dulsissia’s leg, Raga doesn’t move but her eyes move with him.

“He is going to play with you.” Davarax says and stalks forward until he’s standing next to Raga, towering over her. “And you’re all going to be nice to him. Understand?”

The girl scowls up at him. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not.” Barthor scoffs.

Raga’s mess of a hair bounces as she snaps her gaze over at him and he shuffles over to partially hide behind the still stern-looking Paz.

“She’s going to be nice to my son,” Dulsissia says, her voice sweet and her eyes not, “because he has a mother who will have words with everyone who isn’t nice to him.”

Raga shifts her scowl over to Dulsissia, scans her, scowls harder, but when Dulsissia doesn’t give her an inch, she sighs and her little body relaxes. “Fiiiiine.”

And while all of this is happening, little Din silently watches Corin from his hiding place and Corin curiously looks back at him from his.

-

“I told them to behave.” Davarax grouses as he’s bringing her to where she can find food for herself and Corin.

Laughing, Dulsissia glances down at where her son is walking next to her, holding on to her hand and looking around with curiosity, not fear. “I think it went well.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Davarax sighs and there is actual sadness to the sound. “The others call them lost causes. Troublemakers. I know they are difficult, that their manners aren’t like Corin’s, but.. They are good kids. They really are. I wanted you to see that.”

Dulsissia reaches out and places her hand on his upper arm where there is no armor. And she speaks the truth. “I did see that.”

Davarax comes to an abrupt halt, she does the same, and despite the t-visor she can feel the look of surprise on his face.

“You… did?” There is a fragile hope in his voice that doesn’t match his rough exterior.

Dulsissia nods and smiles. “It’s like you said, Paz watches over the others like they were ‘his’ children. He did not hesitate to protect Barthor from Raga. Barthor, who would not let Raga lie and trick my son. Raga, who didn’t care that my son was an outsider and just saw him as someone to play with. And sweet little Din who despite his fear wanted so much to say hello. I think he and Corin will get along so well. And…” She hesitates, looks down at her son but finds him distracted by staring at something down the hallway and has no excuse not to say what else she saw. Dulsissia looks back up at Davarax, who is waiting for her to finish. “And I saw just how much those children love you.”

Davarax stares at her.

“You are the world, the entire Galaxy to them.” Dulsissia says, remembering the look of pure adoration and love in their eyes as he mildly chastised them for acting like tree monkeys in front of their visitors. She doubts he understands how important his role is to these children. How their happiness hangs on his words. How they will do anything for his approval. “My parents ruled our house with an iron fist. But these children? They don’t obey you because they have to or because they fear you. They do it because they love you. Because you see them.”

He shivers and the only reason she knows is because her hand is still on his arm.

“Dulcy, I…” Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his.

“I know bad men, Davarax. I know monsters pretending to be men. But you?” Dulsissia looks over at how his hand is holding on to hers, so gently despite the strength she knows he must be capable of. “You are a good man. You are the kind of man I wish Corin had for a father.”

Davarax takes a step closer, is suddenly very close and the muscles in his arm tighten under her palm. “Is he the one you are running from?”

Dulsissia tenses up and looks down at her son. Corin is still caught up in whatever he’s staring at.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Davarax says ever so softly. “I just want to help you.”

“I know.” Dulsissia whispers. She doesn’t want to say Macero’s name. It’s stupid, but she fears if she does; it might summon him. “That is what makes you a good man.”

A light touch to her chin and Davarax’ other hand lifts her face to look up at him and there is a slight smile in his voice when he speaks. “I’m not ‘that’ good.”

Dulsissia giggles. She hasn’t giggled in years. And her face flushes.

“I’m hungry.” Corin declares.

Davarax jumps back a step and Dulsissia jumps in place and they both look down at the little boy like guilty teenagers.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. We’ll get you something to eat now.” Dulsissia stammers, her face heating up even more.

“Food. Yes. This way.” Davarax clears his throat and gestures for them to follow him.

They enter the room where food is stored, Davarax shows them where the fires are so she can cook if she feels like it and basically where all the other necessities of the Covert are.

By the time the tour comes to an end by the door to their room, Corin is exhausted and Dulsissia knows she won’t struggle finding sleep either. Still, she’s almost a little reluctant to part ways with Davarax when he pauses outside their door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She asks.

“I was hoping that you might want to bring Corin by training.” Davarax says. “He can observe for a while. Maybe try some exercises. Training is the best way for the children to burn off their energy and learn skills as the city above is not safe for them.”

Dulsissia nods. “I will bring him.” She hesitates, knowing he must be tired of hearing her say it but still has to; “Thank you.”

Davarax shakes his head, reaches out and gingerly tucks a golden lock behind her ear. “No thanks required.” He backs up a step, nods and spins around to march over to his door. He keeps pressing the button to his room so the door opens and shuts twice before he can actually get inside.

Late at night, curled up on her side in her bed, looking over at the barely visible silhouette of her son’s back in the other bed, Dulsissia knows she made the best decision ever by coming here.

[i-am-infinite]

Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before. 

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here. 

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough. 

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15. 

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine. 

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head. 

.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga. 

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet. 

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt. 

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

. 

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood. 

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place. 

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good. 

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side. 

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too. 

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again. 

. 

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake. 

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer. 

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now. 

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.” 

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.” 

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door. 

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on. 

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth. 

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath. 

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch. 

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!” 

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off. 

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers. 

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point. 

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light. 

. 

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right. 

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do  that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him. 

. 

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it. 

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up. 

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body. 

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance. 

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap. 

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak. 

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself. 

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response. 

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off. 

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself. 

[soyunaagente]

Smoke Shield

Thank you so much @ringofthenibelung-blog for trusting me with this! I hope you like it! 

The gif is slightly relevant I couldn’t help myself 

Usual warnings, mentions of violence, injuries, swearing, my terrible writing etc 

The smoke was overwhelming, it burnt your nose and throat. Tears fell down your cheeks in an attempt to push through the smoke. If you knew that this was the way things would have ended up- you'd never have touched him.

It all started a month ago. You were earning your stripes. As a female dealer things were obviously more difficult than anticipated. The sicarios' jokes, many not taking you seriously... and of course 'El Jefe' was non too pleased that a new kid had shown up on his side of the tracks. He wanted you to know it too.

The unopened envelope sat in your dining room table, the quaint gold lettering spelled out your name. Deciding, against your better judgement, you opened it. The gold lettering continued on the letter itself. An invitation. A dinner party. Wear something fancy. Your breath caught in the back of your throat when you saw the signature. Miguel Ángel Felix Gallardo. The breath almost disappeared entirely when you saw todays date as the day of the party. That's the  last time you'll leave a letter unopened for a couple days.... whatever the outcome of todays fiesta.

You turned the invitation over and over, thoughts of clothes, shoes and make up turned along with it. Contemplating is no use, it won't get you anywhere. The wardrobe beckoned. You pushed aside the usual attire that wouldn't do. Oh no, Miguel needed to see what exactly he was messing with. He'd be the one that would be sorry. The thigh-high slit of the final dress you pulled out would do just perfectly. The material was soft on your fingertips, a small smile spread across your lips. He'll be sorry.

By the time you had your hair done, makeup finished and show stopping dress on evening had rolled around and it was time to face the music. You got into the backseat of your car and let the driver take you to the dinner. The streets of Guadalajara passed slowly by as the driver winded his way through the city- it wasn't long before he pulled up at the looming gates of Felix's home. Another breath caught in the bac of your throat as the gates opened, you glanced behind you- fearing it would be the last time you see the outside world before the gates slammed shut behind the car.

'Patrona, I'll return by midnight,' the driver announced opening your door. The doors to the house swung open, as if expecting you. The steps seemed to go on forever, in fact there was more now than when you began climbing. The doors were oddly welcoming, too welcoming. The butler handed you a glass of champagne and led you to the main hall.

A hush fell over the room as you walked in. All eyes turned to you. To see the beauty that just entered the fiesta. Men whispered, women glared  but above all Miguel Angel's jaw dropped for a split second before he regained his composure. He turned his attention back to the politician that he was conversing with.

'Waltz?' A voice sounded from behind you. Rafa stood there, his hand extended. You shrugged. What's the harm. The musicians played the slow song as your hand grew clammy in rafa's. The floor felt as if it was going to cave in. If only you listened to that warning.

The song eventually ended. Rafa moved on, you spied Sofia entering so no explanation needed. Feeling slightly disheartened at not getting your showdown with El Jefe you deicded to down one last glass of champagne and turned to face the door to leave.

The next few moments became a complete blur. Felix's hand on your shoulder, his chuckle, a loud bang and then smoke. The floor hit you hard. The pain in your shoulder grew excruciating. You slowly lifted your head. Daring to look around at the scene in front of you. Lungs burning. The first sense that came back was sight- but it was hazy. Smoke? The second was sound. The crackling and roaring. Fire.

Breaths quickening in panic you glance around again. A hand sticking out of the smoke caught your attention. You lean towards it, hoping whoever it is is okay. The skin was discoloured from the fire, the once crisp white shirt was now charred black. Miguel Angel was just laying there. Helpless. You knelt beside him, secretly hoping to see a sign of life. His chest moved slightly. Your brain automatically goes into panic mode. The flames roared closer now. You both would be incinerated if you couldn't formulate a plan. Fast. You  glanced around again. No one was in sight. But how? The orange glow burnt your eyelids as the flames danced across the floor even faster. Daring you not to get out.

Your arms began working without you realising. Pushing the debris off of him. He might be a rival but no one deserves this. You know, ironically. Serves his cold dementor right, to be ended by heat.

You pushed those thoughts out of your mind. You had just moved the last piece of what once was a stone pillar out of the way when a deafening crash came from the other end of the room. The first chandelier crashed under the pressure of the heat. You gingerly glanced up. One was dauntingly hanging above you and Miguel. The burning in your lungs grew worse. Vision clouded with tears.

Where the superhuman strength came from you'll never know. But you'll be forever thankful. Managing to lift Felix up and support his weight was a miracle. His beard scratched the side of your face harshly. Step by step you edged closer to the door.

He was clearly somewhat conscious judging by the soft grunts that came from him every couple of steps. Another crash sounded as you collapsed up against the exit. The second chandelier smashed into the floor. A shard of glass flew across the floor, blood began to stain the bottom of your dress. 'Fuck,' was all you were able to get out.

Your fingers brushed against the door handle. Felix's weight was becoming too much. With one final once of strength you pushed the door open. It gave way as you pushed Felix out before you fell out behind him. The final chandelier fell to the floor where you both once lay. Smoke poured out behind you.

Taking what was definitely the last little bit of strength you had you caught your rival under the arms and dragged him outside. Actually getting him down the steps proved too much. His weight caused you to land on your toosh. Your lucky stars were shining as your driver raced up to you, along with some of Miguel's men.

Then the world went black.

You know the phrase never go to the light? That was the first thing that came to mind as your eyes fluttered open. A harsh bright light shone down on you. You shot up, breath quickening. White walls, stack of books. Wait. A hospital?

The next scene that came into your sight caused a lot of confusion. Miguel Angel was leaning up against the window ledge. Dangling a ciggarette between his lips. He looked a little worse for wear.

'Pues mija. I hear that I have you to thank for getting me out of there.'

'Just doing what anyone would.'

'In those shoes?'

'Don't make me regret it,' you challenged.

'Why don't I thank you for keeping me from being smoked dealer.'

[moonshine-dan]

what would kissing your close friend, kuroo or bokuto, for the first time be like? i imagined that you've been with him since high school and you only realized your feelings for him in college gahhh please indulge this hopeless romantic >.<

I would love to! This is for all the hopeless romantics out there who love Bokuto.

@janellion ... I hear you like stuff like this?

Downtown

Is it really this fun when you're on my mind? Is it really this cool to be in your life?

Bokuto x Reader, fluff. 2.2 K

Warnings: Nothing major. Suicide mentioned as part of a drink title. A little suggestive at the end.

The automatic doors hiss open as you walk into the humid Osaka night, wincing. The AC inside the 7/11 had made it easy to forget how hot it was. The slurpee you just bought is sweet and takes the edge off, but beyond that, you couldn’t say what the flavor was exactly. You let Bokuto take both of your cups to the machine and make suicides out of every option - “So none of ’em feel left out!” - like you always did. 

He was following you out, eyes gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the signs above you.

"It's good to just hang out like this again. We haven't done this in forever!" He was waving animatedly in your general direction, the drink in his flailing hand getting dangerously close to spilling on your shirt.

"Woah! My bad! Nothing got on you, right?"

You nod. He responds with a thousand watt smile that pushes his eyes closed and makes you want to grab his stupid hair spikes and drag him into a kiss.

You’ve got it so bad for your best friend that it’s almost funny, if it wasn’t also completely pathetic. It's only recently that you realized you liked him as more than a friend- but now that you’re reminiscing with him, the signs were very, very obvious. To you, at least. 

The pair of you are moving from the eye-piercing light of the storefront and over to the far side of the parking lot. The plan? To loiter, just like you did in high school when volleyball practice got out. Usually, you'd have 3 or 4 of his teammates with you, eating garbage snack food and joking around on the curb until the manager would chase you away. 

You can see in your mind how you would gravitate towards Bokuto on those nights, sitting next to him in the parking lot, bumping your foot or your knee into his while you talked. How you laughed at his jokes and would ask for his jacket when it got cold. His presence was magnetic, and you got pulled in deep. It wasn’t until after you both had graduated and started down separate paths that you were able to really see what you had. What you missed so deeply. 

It's just the two of you tonight, Bokuto fresh out of practice and talking excitedly about his teammates' antics, just like he used to. The only things that are different now are the names of the players. He’s telling you a story about his germophobic friend, Sasuke? You think? Bokuto talks so fast sometimes he doesn’t really annunciate well - and you sigh at the familiarity of it all. Maybe this would turn out alright; maybe you had been avoiding meeting up with Bokuto for no reason? 

You had thought that seeing him in person again, not just on a grainy phone screen, would be disastrous. It was hard enough to try and keep your feelings inside over video calls and text messages, but having him in front of you? You knew you’d do something to tip him off on how you felt toward him, and even though you knew he would never stop being your friend, the fear of your love being unrequited held you back. 

He'd been asking for weeks to meet up, and you had been successfully blaming college on your schedules not working - until he offered you to meet him late night on Friday, just like you used to. With no excuse and an irrationally heavy heart, you agreed to meet up.

Perhaps it was just a crush? Maybe you sought him out between classes and waited for hours after school just so see him because you just…. Liked him. And you had halfway convinced yourself that's all it was, until he had smiled at you brightly and reminded you just how dull things were without him in your life. 

He’s sitting now on a parking block with his back against a bollard, slapping the spot next to him invitingly. Bokuto whoops when you drop down next to him, slush flying from his cup as he whips it excitedly. "You gotta see this!"

He scoots closer to you, phone in hand. There's a paused youtube video onscreen: a highlight reel someone had made of his spikes. He hits play as soon as you lean in a little, grinning wildly and giving a play by play commentary as you watch. The outside of his thigh presses into yours warmly.

Here's hoping he can’t somehow feel the heat creeping up your neck.

He beams at you from over the phone, looking at you expectantly as the video ends. “Wasn’t I great?” 

You feel like you’ve run a mile and all he did was press his leg to yours. He’s too great. “Yes, Bokuto, you were amazing.”

He’s really grinning now, eyes crinkling shut. “You’ve gotta come to one of my games and see me in action! I promise, it’s waaaay better in person! You could even,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “bring one of the guys you’ve been seeing? Watching me win would be an awesome date.”

Oh god, your dates. You had tried going on a few recently, another attempt to distance yourself from your best friend. Nothing serious - just coffee shop conversations, but they easily lost a competition they weren't even aware they were in. None of them could even begin to make you feel the way Bokuto did. And the thought of taking one of them to see your best friend and unrequited crush in his element? There’s no way that wouldn't find a way to blow up in your face.

“That’s a great idea, man,” you lie. “I’m not seeing anyone right now though.” Bokuto’s giving you a spectacular double eyebrow raise above his cup. “Oh ho?”

You flick his arm gently. “Don’t be mean, Bo. I’ll just come to a game and hang out in the stands with your date instead.”

Why did you say that. Why did you say that. Why did you say that. 

The eyebrows come down. He’s smiling, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes, which aren’t meeting your own. “Nah, you can’t do that. We broke up.”

You feel terrible for the little thrill that sends through you.

“Oh, Bokuto, I’m sorry.” You are. He’s your best friend. The cruel joy you feel does not go away. 

His eyes flicker to you momentarily. “Nah, it’s fine. They weren’t the one, you know?”

Who is? You want to ask. What comes out instead is, “How did you know?”

Bokuto hums inquisitively. “Know what?”

“That they weren’t the one. How did you know?”

He’s still not looking at you when he replies, “I just know.”

Silence falls. You use the quiet moment as an excuse to turn away as well. This is really unlike him. Had he changed that much in the time since you last saw him? Nothing else about Bokuto seems different - maybe the issue was just you?

Stop it. Don’t think things like that. 

The silence drags on. You pull the straw of your drink into your mouth and chew, trying to think of something not romance-related to talk about. Nothing is coming to mind - Bokuto has been all you can think about for a solid week, and being next to him is NOT helping. It’s just the two of you, alone together in silence. It’s late enough that there aren’t any pedestrians on walks to distract you, the night quiet and dark outside of the strangely illuminated parking lot. Desperate to think of anything else, you look up at the hazy summer sky.

It’s hard to see stars through the light pollution, but you can make out Vega, you think. Some stars were bright enough to see even in the middle of the city. The straw pops out of your mouth as you point it out loudly, getting Bokuto’s attention.

“Check it out Bo, you can see part of Lyra. That star’s got to be Vega. You remember?”

Bokuto jerks slightly before he turns to face you, looking startled. His gaze follows your finger up, mouth still pursed around the straw in his mouth. His smile returns as he tilts his head to peer up at the sky with you. “You told me about that one once! It’s a summer constellation, right?”

You drop your hand as Bokuto starts pointing out the faint other stars of the summer triangle. It may be hard to see stars in the city, but with Bokuto shining next to you, it’s hard to see anything else at all. The weird fluorescence of the parking lot light should have washed him out, but somehow he was aglow, soft shadows instead of harsh lines shading him lightly. He really was a star, and he burned the brightest out of any that you could see tonight.

You were staring at him again. 

It’s no surprise when he catches you this time, golden eyes meeting yours and matching your gaze. The delight is still present on his face but it’s sobering, turning serious. Your heart is racing as Bokuto continues to stare you down in silence. His eyebrows draw together as he raises his hand slowly, reaching for your face.

A finger grazes your cheek. You might have stopped breathing. He opens his mouth.

“You had some slush on your face.” His finger remains there, rubbing at the stuck on sugar.

...

Okay. Something has to change. There’s only so much your heart can take.

You reach up and cup your hand over his, holding it in place. Bokuto stills at the sudden contact, bewildered. You aren’t sure what you are doing, much less how to say what you want, but you hope that somehow he understands. No sound escapes your mouth as you maintain eye contact and slot your fingers together. Bokuto stares, still uncharacteristically silent - but he’s not just looking anymore. His eyes are searching, gaze sharp and analytical. You couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.

Bokuto blinks first, eyes flitting over to your joined hands as you press your cheek into the heat of his palm. His thumb drags lightly over to your skin, meeting your bottom lip and tracing along the curve of it. He watches, entranced, as they part slightly from the touch. 

Even if this doesn’t work out. Even then. Just having this moment would be enough. Your eyes close as you huff out the breath you had been holding. The hot coil of anxiety snaking through your stomach makes you hesitant to open them again. When Bokuto’s thumb moves from your mouth to pad at your cheek, you steel yourself and open them again. 

You shouldn't have worried. There’s nothing in his golden eyes but understanding when you finally dare to open them again. Bokuto’s remaining hand is impossibly gentle as he places it on your shoulder, leaning into your space. His shoulders shake minutely with barely contained excitement from the breakthrough he’s just had - you like him, just as much as he likes you. There’s no way he can’t feel the heat in your skin rising now as your pulse skyrockets. 

“Kou…”, you whisper into the shrinking space between you.

Bokuto doesn’t bother with a response. His lips are a little chapped when they capture yours, but they're warm and eager and pressing in with the weight of half a decade of unconfessed feelings.

You know immediately what he meant earlier about knowing ‘the one’. No kiss from any of your dates was ever this electric. None of them made you feel like time was stopping when their lips met yours, or made your heart beat like it was about to fly from your chest. None of them made you feel like you were finally home, held in strong arms and with a familiar hand gently running along your cheek. 

There really was no one like Bokuto, and you were so glad there was no one else for him but you right now. 

You push forward until you chests are touching, desperate for closer contact now that you know you’re allowed to get it. The back of his head is cradled in your free hand, fingers tangling in the short spikes at the nape of his neck. Bokuto hums against your mouth, tongue slipping out to trace where his thumb had been earlier. He starts backward slightly as you meet it with the tip of yours, breaking away with a gasp.

“Woah! Not on the first date!”

“You used tongue first.” Your deadpan expression doesn't faze him. He wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side, laughing. 

Wait a minute.

“Did you say date? Is this a date?”

Bokuto freezes. He glances at you side-eyed and inquires quietly, “Do you... want it to be one?”

It’s much easier to be truthful when you’ve had his tongue in your mouth. “I’d love it to be one.”

Bokuto whoops loudly, the exclamation echoing in the empty lot.

First dates usually sucked. This one, however, was going to stick with you for a long time. You run your tongue over your lips as you bump your head to his shoulder. Who knew slurpees tasted even better on someone else's mouth?

“Y'know, If we don’t leave soon,” you tease, “the manager might chase us away again.”

He hums dismissively and bends to press a kiss to your temple.

“Let’em.”

[starsstruck]

cloudbusting; part four.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. horoscope readings, mandarin oranges, and star-gazing strolls.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, mentions of anxiety words: 13k

series masterlist

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be)

a/n: thank you for being patient with me for this chapter, i hope everything turned out okay ! a big huge thank you to the amazing tina @sunflowers-styles​ for helping me out and being the best beta ily ❤️❤️ as always let me know what you think and please share if you can ! i love to hear everyone's thoughts and comments <3 happy reading !

Sat comfortably on Mae’s couch, you were taking a big bite of the hummus covered carrot that you had just grabbed.

“I have some frozen perogies!”

Mae’s voice floated from the kitchen, both of your laziness to make a proper dinner was about to be satisfied with hummus and snacks before Mae started digging through her fridge.

“That sounds perfect!” You called back, reaching over her coffee table for another carrot. You could hear her shuffling through the kitchen, reappearing by the couch with a box of herb flavoured crackers in hand.

“I’ll put them on later,” she hummed, seating herself next to you while turning down the volume of the Fiona Apple that was playing through the speaker. “Don’t feel like cooking just yet.”

“How was the weekend away?”

Mae had just come back from a two-night stay with her partner’s parents, at their place out in Rochester. “It was good – honestly it was pretty nice to completely get away from everything, even if it was for a bit, and even if it was with Robin’s parents.”

“That sounds lovely,” you nodded, unable to help yourself as you kept reaching for more crackers. “It’s good you got to relax for a bit.”

“Work has been far too stressful lately,” Mae nodded. “Aren’t you getting some time off soon as well?”

You rolled your eyes, waiting until you finished chewing your carrot until you spoke. “I guess. It’s not really going to be relaxing for me though.”

She shot you a sympathetic smile. “It’ll be okay – if things get too bad tell me, and I’ll come over with some kind of emergency.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you laughed, not wanting to think about the reason you were going to be taking some time off work.

“Don’t think about that just yet,” Mae told you, a smile lining her lips. “How’s work going otherwise? Oh! Anything new with the painter boy?”

You bit your lips together, watching the bowl of homemade hummus as if it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. You knew Mae could read you well, and you knew that as soon as you averted your gaze that she’d be onto something.

“Something did happen?” She repeated the question, voice rising in excitement as you tried to hold back your little smirk.

“He ate me out on the floor of his apartment.”

“I’m sorry, he did what?” Mae sprang up, back straightening out as she turned to fully face you. “Last I heard you weren’t even sure if he was even going to make a move on you.”

“Well…” you trailed off, not knowing what else to say. “He did.”

It had been three days since you last saw Harry. You had your usual two days off, coming back to work just this Saturday morning.

After the little distraction from your painting session, you had pulled your dress back over your knees. And with starry eyes and warm cheeks, you sat up with legs pressed to his and your arms around his neck to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

He had tugged you closer to him until you were practically sitting on his lap, muttering near nonsense against your mouth. “You’re unreal, you know that?” and “Sound so good saying my name like that, could listen to you for hours.”

Just the mere thought brought butterflies to your stomach; which was something you thought only happened to protagonists in romance novels.

You could still feel his warm breath against your skin and the sweet nothings he had kissed onto your lips.

“Was he good?”

Mae really didn’t need to ask; she could tell by the look on your face. You nodded, confirming her suspicion with a smile bit between your teeth. “Really good.”

“I love that,” she chuckled lightly. “Anything else happen? And wait, when exactly did this happen?”

“Few days ago – I went over to his to do some painting with him. I actually ran into him last weekend when I was out which was when he first kissed me.”

“What? You never told me that.” She mocked a pout, not actually upset with you.

“I haven’t seen you!” You laughed, always favouring to tell her things in person rather than on the phone or through text. 

“I suppose…” she laughed. “Have you seen him since?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean it was only three days ago.”

“Do you have plans to see him again?”

Again, you shook your head. “No – I don’t know. I realized I don’t even have his number or anything, I usually just see him at my work.”

“You could always DM him,” Mae nodded, reminding you of the time you both had spent scrolling through his Instagram.

“That’s true,” you bit at your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he wants or anything.”

You fell quiet for a second, still gnawing at your lip. When you thought about it, you really only ever did see him at your work and other than his art practice and what kind of coffee he liked to drink, you didn’t know that much about him.

“Did anything else happen?”

“No,” you again shook your head. “He said that we didn’t have to do anything more if I didn’t want to – honestly I would’ve returned the favour but things just didn’t really go that way.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

The wheels in your head were spinning. “Maybe he just wants something physical, I don’t know…”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Don’t jump the gun. By the sound of everything I kind of doubt that, he didn’t even get off.”

“I mean, is that weird? Maybe he does that – like in Sex and the City.”

Mae let out a loud laugh. “Life is not like Sex and the City, stop comparing yourself to that shitty show. Also, what does it have to do with anything?”

“That’s a plot,” you nodded, hating yourself for remembering all the awful plot points from the 90s TV show. “Charlotte dates this guy who’s like, notorious for going down on women and wants nothing else from a relationship.”

Mae raises an eyebrow. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” shaking your head, a small furrow in your brow as you actually couldn’t remember how the episode had ended. “It wasn’t bad – but it wasn’t good. That’s all he did – he wasn’t a good guy or something, I don’t remember. He only was in the one episode.”

Mae laughed.  “Babe you’ve got to stop watching that show.”

“It’s entertaining,” you shrugged, fully knowing Mae also loved to indulge in the guilty pleasure with you.

“What does this have to do with Harry – your Harry?” Mae made the distinction, as if you would have only thought about Harry Goldenblatt, Charlotte’s second husband of the show.

“I don’t remember,” you muttered, bottom lip still between your teeth as you couldn’t for the life of you remember why it was bad that Charlotte dated a guy that only wanted to eat her out.

Snapping yourself out from the mess in your mind, you shook your head. “Anyway, sorry. Things are good, I’m just overthinking.”

Mae was quiet for a second. “Do you like him?”

You paused, already knowing your answer but being slightly afraid of it. “I think I do.”

It was two days later when you saw Harry again. With your usual Monday opening shift, the slow morning had you leaning against the counter flipping through the daily newspaper as you found yourself with not much else to do.

Playing with the paper straw that was in your third coffee of the day, you blindly brought it up to your mouth just as you heard someone walk through the door.

An older man with a red baseball cap shuffled through the propped open door, giving you a two-finger wave as he walked over to the counter.

“Morning,” he chirped, placing a ten-dollar bill on the counter as you went to grab his morning muffin. “Nice day out, isn’t it?”

One pet peeve you had about your job, was the weather talk that every patron seemed to insist on having. They all loved to chat about the bright sun outside while you were stuck working inside. “Beautiful day.”

Grabbing the bill from the counter, your eyes flitted back to the front door as you were counting out the customer’s change. A familiar silhouette of someone else walking through the door had caught your attention, eyes widening a bit when you realized it was Harry who had just come in.

He had his usual canvas bag over his shoulder, light wash blue jeans and a white shirt with some kind of graphic you couldn’t see on it.

Feeling your heart beating just a bit faster in your chest, you turned your attention back to the regular (who’s name you couldn’t remember, Bill or something) with the red cap and handed him his change.

Shooting Harry one more look, forcing the corners of your lips not to open in a wide smile while you moved to prepare a small americano.

As you watched the espresso pour into the mug, you willed your body not to flush at even being in the same room as Harry. You felt like you were thirteen, with a silly crush on a boy you’d only ever spoken to once. Except that this was much more real than a small crush.

You had never really felt this way with anyone before.

“Small americano,” you spoke not too loudly in the near empty café, your voice easily carrying over the sound of Françoise Hardy’s Voilà.

The red capped regular grabbed his coffee, pouring a generous amount of cream in it with a small thank you before he headed to his table near a window, ready for his breakfast with his book.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Harry having placed his things at his usual table and was tapping away on his phone. Cleaning out the portafilter, you wiped off the counter before deciding to head back to your coffee and newspaper.

It was not even a minute later that you felt a presence loom from the other side of the counter.

“Morning,” Harry’s voice was a quiet rasp, clearing his throat as you shot him a glance.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Hi,” you hummed, willing yourself to stop your flush at the memory of the last time you saw him. Hand reaching out for your no longer iced coffee, straw between your lips as you looked up at him again. “What’s your sign?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, a twitch of a smile at his mouth. “What?”

You motioned to the open newspaper in front of you on the counter. “Your sun sign – I’m reading horoscopes.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I’m an Aquarius. Are you reading all of them?”

You nodded with your own little laugh. “I like to compare them, plus I’m a bit bored. So,” your eyes skimmed over the newsprint. “An Aquarius hm?”

“Is that bad?”

You only hummed, finding it on the page and pausing before reading his daily horoscope to him. “Under today’s amorous skies, sometimes less is more. Resist the urge to come on too strong to a new romantic prospect. A star-gazing stroll through nature could be the perfect way to add a dash or romance to your evening. And who knows? Your nighttime adventure could even bring artistic inspo.”

A few seconds of silence washed over the two of you. Harry had his bottom lip between his teeth, unable to help the nervous twist in his stomach. The horoscope was just a bit too accurate, especially with who was reading it to him.

“That’s – that’s something.” He said after a moment. The bright sun made the little pink blush on his cheeks obvious. He cleared his throat, looking to change the subject. “What’s yours say?”

“Mine isn’t nearly as nice, a bit of a filler horoscope if you ask me.” You sighed, searching for your sign on the page even though you’d just read it not long ago. “Today is all about adventure. Today’s thrill-seeking skies get your engines revving. Expand your horizons, whether you embark on a cross country road trip or rent a cabin in the woods. It’s all about a change in scenery and spiritual balance.”

“Sounds like you need to seek some thrill.” Harry laughed, the words you had read to him about his own horoscope still stuck in his head.

“I guess I do,” you bit back a smile, closing the paper. “Did you only come in for readings today? Or maybe a coffee too?”

“So many reasons I came in today,” he shot you a smile, almost a nervous one.

“Well then,” you hummed, pushing yourself away from the counter to go start preparing a coffee for him. “Let me grab you a drink.”

He followed you, from the other side of the counter, to the espresso machine. After tamping the grounds and waiting for the shot, you placed a hand on your shoulder as you circled your opposite arm, feeling the ever growing knot under your skin. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled lightly. “It’s just my shoulder – I call it barista shoulder. Not everyone gets it, I think it depends on the way you tamp the espresso.” 

You saw the confusion on his face. 

“Tamping – it’s when you use this,” you reached over to grab the heavy tool used to press down grounds. “I honestly don’t know what it’s called - I think it’s just called a tamper? Anyway, you press down the grounds to form this kind of espresso puck.” 

You mimicked the motion, twisting your body. “You need to use a bit of force so I got into the habit of using my entire side to push it down. Some people press just in the wrist or their arm. My old boss had the same issue as me – after years of the repetitive motion it kind of fucks with your whole side; your arm, shoulder, ribs, everything.”

“Your ribs?” 

You quickly stopped the shot that was still pouring, having nearly forgotten about it. 

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly with a sheepish smile. “I went to see a physio for it, I have two ribs that are a bit dislocated.” 

“What?! You have dislocated ribs?!” Harry looked a bit scared. 

“Partially,” you corrected, as if it made a big difference. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Kind of, yeah,” you nodded. “I try and stretch it out often, I even got acupuncture for it once. It’s more of a dull pain.” 

“Jesus,” he muttered, a small shake to his head. “Dangerous work you do here.” 

You only laughed, scooping out some ice from the machine and placing a few cubs into the glass cup, some espresso splashing onto your hand.

Placing the cup on the counter, you nudged it across in his direction. “For you.” 

“Thank you,” his fingers reached for it, before sliding it a few inches before stopping.

“Oh!” He disappeared for a moment, quickly walking to his table before reappearing in front of you, all in the few seconds the espresso had been pouring for. “Brought these for you.”

He had two mandarin oranges in his hand, holding them out in your direction before placing them on the counter between the two of you.

You were so endeared you wanted to throw them at his head.

“I remembered how you said you usually forget to eat in the morning – actually I don’t even know if you like oranges. You don’t have to – well anyway they’re there for you if you want them.”

“Thank you,” you spoke softly, warming at the small action. You did in fact enjoy oranges; you loved the smell of them as well. “I love mandarin oranges”

“Me too,” Harry grinned, done with his rambling. “Love the colour too – actually I like the colour tangerine even better,” he smirked lightly, apparently not done with his rambling. “But I only had mandarin oranges.”

“Any citrus fruit really is divine,” you giggled, grabbing one in each hand.

Harry saw you disappear behind the espresso machine for a brief second, only the top of your head visible between the mugs, before you turned back towards him while wiping your hands on your jeans.

He held the small glass between his fingers, mouth dropping open to speak but nothing came out when both your attentions turned to see a family waiting for you to take their order.

You only shot him a little smile, grabbing the pen from your back pocket and moved to take their order.

Harry went to go take his seat, pulling out his usual workbook that was slowly but surely filling up with page after page of colourful sketches.

He thought over the words you had read out to him about his horoscope. He never was one to take that in a serious manner, quite frankly not knowing a lot about astrology at all. But he took it as a sign since you specifically were the one reading it out to him.

Finding himself sketching small drawings of stars and the reflection of the sky on the water, unable to help but momentarily flick his eyes up to the front counter every so often, where you would often be found standing.

He watched the way you asked a man about the book he was reading, the way the customer was so excited to share it with you. You had that effect on a lot of patrons, he noticed. You made them feel comfortable and welcomed in the little café.

With his bottom lip between his teeth, he couldn’t help but feel slightly flustered even when you weren’t directly interacting with him.

Continuing with your separate tasks in the café for the next hour or so, as Harry didn’t want to bug you when a small line up never seemed to go away.

Walking up to the front after that line up finally did subside, empty glass in hand that he placed in the dirty dish bin, before he peered around the café as he couldn’t see you.

He finally did find you in the back room, one leg bent and knee resting on the stool. In one hand you had your phone held in front of you, attention drawn towards it. In your other hand you were holding a few orange slices, mindlessly chewing on them.

After watching you for a second longer, he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb any peace you had settled into.

You blinked while you turned your head, a slice of mandarin orange just placed into your mouth as you put your phone down on the table in front of you.

“Oh, hey sorry,” you placed your foot on the ground, orange on the table as you walked over to the doorframe. He could smell the orange on you as you neared him. “Just taking advantage of the lull.”

“No of course, didn’t mean to bug you –”

“– just wanted to ask,” he paused, leaning his hip against the wall next to him. He was only slightly intruding in on the space that was technically just for the workers, watching as you rested you back against the doorframe behind you with a few mandarin orange slices still in hand. “Are you doing anything Wednesday night?”

It was your turn to pause, eyes leaving his for a second as you chewed on your orange slice. “I close – otherwise I don’t think so, why?”

“There’s an opening show, my friend has a whole series in it. It’s at the same gallery that we work at sometimes, it’s just a tiny show but – well I’d love it if you came with me.”

Your eyes fell to his again. He could see a smile starting to grow on your mouth, corner of your lip between teeth. “What time is it at?”

“Starts at eight, but it goes until eleven. You don’t need to be there right at eight.”

You nodded, and although he felt like you were dragging this out a bit on purpose, he couldn’t help but feel a small pit of nerves grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay,” you hummed, voice quiet as your eyes darted over to the front counter to check for customers. “I’m usually done around quarter past seven – I can probably head over for eight-thirty? Give or take, depending on where it is.”

He knew he was smiling so wide that his cheeks were dimpling. “So, you can come?”

“I’d love to,” you returned his smile.

“Amazing,” the butterflies in his stomach flew away. “Do you have a pen? I’ll give you the address.”

He watched you pat your back pocket, not finding the red pen that was usually placed there. Taking a second to check the back room, reappearing with a little scrap of paper and a pen.

He scribbled down the information you need, watching you fold up the little piece of paper and place it in your back pocket along with the pen.

“I have to head over a bit earlier, moral support and all, but I can meet you there?” Harry asked.

“Sounds good,” you hummed, excitement growing at the idea of spending more time with Harry outside of the café.

“I have to head out soon,” he spoke, “but I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned, lips together as he bid you a little goodbye. Just as you were debating about if you should hug him, or say anything else, a group came in waiting to be served. As always, you were interrupted by other patrons. “See you Wednesday!” 

The following two days flew by. That Wednesday evening, you were giddy as you closed, rushing through all your duties.

Closing with Saya took no time at all, and soon you were walking with a fast pace in your step to head back home. You knew you actually had plenty of time to get ready, but you were taking your sweet time and wanted the process to be relaxing rather than stressful.

You didn’t really know what one wore to a gallery opening. It was a small show; that was all Harry had really said. It’d probably be casual, so you didn’t want to overdress, but you also didn’t want to look too out of place.

After washing your face, you were throwing clothes around your room as you searched for what to change into. It was then you realized that Harry had only really seen you in clothes you wore to work. It wasn’t that you dressed poorly at work, in fact you liked to think you had quite a nice,  casual style, but you still felt like dressing up just a bit.

You finally settled on a dark navy dress that had orange seams embroidered up the sides and around the hem. It was the kind of dress that would look good on anyone, that fit and clung to every dip and slope of your body.

Grabbing a nearly sheer black blouse to throw over your shoulders, slipping on your trusty white sneakers, hoping that you were walking on the line between casual and formal.

With a little beaded bag over your shoulder with everything you’d need for the night, you checked the time once more before heading out the door.

It didn’t take you as long as you thought it would to make it out the door, and finally you were double checking the address on your phone before being met with the red sign over the gallery and the glass double doors.

Smiling at the man dressed in a bright red blazer who stamped your hand,  you walked through the open doored entrance. You immediately felt a tad out of place, seeing everyone chatting and talking and drinking and laughing – all together.

You let your eyes skim over the space, taking in the gallery. It was fairly large, considering Harry had described it as “just a tiny show”. The room was big and open, and there seemed to be another room that opened up around a curved wall.

Gaze jumping from person to person, you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit out of place. Tentatively walking through the gallery, deciding to simply make your way around and hope to find Harry along the way.

It was when you were looking at a big dark painting, one that had different strokes of grays and browns across a large canvas, that a familiar voice spoke quietly to your left.

“Happy to see you made it.”

Turning around to see Harry, not realizing how close he had come up behind you. You had to take a little step back, the corner of your lips perking up as you saw his mouth already in a wide smile. He was wearing wide black trousers with a fitted simple black shirt, and orange converse sneakers.

“Sorry I’m late,” you spoke softly as he stood close to you.  “Had a bit of an outfit crisis.”

Not moving his feet, he leaned his body closer to yours until the sleeve of his shirt brushed your arm. His shoulder bumping yours, he slid a hand around your waist so that it rested on the small of your back.

With a light pressure against your dress, he drew you in closer so your side was pressed against his. Feeling a puff of air as he exhaled hit the side of your neck, his head lightly dipped down until his lips neared your ear.

“You look stunning,” he murmured. You shivered under his touch, even in his warm embrace. Eyes darting around you, feeling a bit lost just in the moment the both of you had shared. You felt a quick kiss pressed to your temple, before his face retreated from yours.

You could feel heat spread across your chest along with a little flutter in your stomach that somehow made you even warmer. Momentarily not knowing what to say, you faced him with a smile. “Thank you.”

His hand lingered over the fabric of your dress for a moment longer, before it fell to his side along with a little step away from you. Although with your shoulder still against his, you remained close to him as you both turned back to the painting that you had been observing.

“What do you think about this one?” Harry’s voice was low in your ear.

You opened your mouth, not really knowing how to tell him that you didn’t like it one bit. “It’s very… beige.”

“I agree,” he hummed. A touch of his fingertips on your arm pulled your eyes away from the art, arm jumping just the slightest at the contact. With a loose grip of his fingers around your wrist, he was soon tugging you by the arm across the floor of the gallery. “I’ll show you the good stuff,” he said, keeping his voice low.

He pulled you around the curved corner, into the second part of the gallery. You immediately noticed the lights on this side were a bit dimmer, a warmer glow to them rather than a harsher white light.

“All these in here are done by my friend, Yanis.” He hummed, stopping in front of one of the large paintings on the wall with a light drop of your arm from his hand.

“I helped out with a few, but really it's all him.”

“You helped out with some?” You turned to catch a glance at Harry.

He nodded. “Here and there – nothing that big. He just needed a hand.”

“That’s sweet,” you hummed. You liked that, them helping each other out with their paintings. It was just all so uplifting and supportive.

Just as Harry’s mouth opened to speak, his name was called by a deep and unfamiliar voice to you. You both turned, seeing a shorter man with black curly hair in a bun approach the both of you.

“We were just talking about you,” the man spoke towards Harry, his eyes pausing on you for a moment before he turned back to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Your name left Harry’s lips – introducing you to his friend.

“I’m Yanis. So, you’re the famous barista Harry’s been telling me about?”

You smiled at his words, eyes flicking to where Harry stood next to you and watched the pink tint the tip of his ears. “Famous?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Only famous one here is you, Yanis. The show looks like a big hit.”

You didn’t miss how quickly he changed the subject, but you turned back to Yanis. “It really does look incredible. I haven’t seen everything yet but I already like what I see.”

You mentally cringed, still feeling like a bit of an idiot whenever you tired to compliment art. You really needed to learn the right things to say.

Just as you were about to try and say something else, two more people joined Harry’s friend on either side of him.

“There you are!” A tall dark-haired woman spoke towards Harry. She was wearing a red shirt that matched her long skirt, with platform shoes and an array of necklaces. “I was worried you had left.”

“Just showing my friend around,” Harry spoke your name smoothly. You didn’t dwell on the way he had called you his friend, but it also didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh,” she turned her attention to you, while Yanis and the other man seemed to begin a new conversation. “Sorry, I’m Rory.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled in her direction. You saw her give your appearance a quick once over, and you especially saw the way her full attention turned back to Harry.

“Everything looks so great,” she spoke towards him.

“It’s all this guy.” Harry let his hand fall onto his friend's shoulder, giving it a little pat. “We were just starting to look around actually, so I’ll catch up with you lot in a bit.”

In a quick move, Harry’s hand was brushing against your lower back, and he was guiding you towards the wall on the opposite end. You felt his fingers bunch lightly in the thin fabric of your blouse, side pressing lightly against yours.

“Sorry –” he muttered, leaning a bit closer to you as the both of you stopped in front of a painting across from where you had been previously standing. There was a sea of red and pink mountains, along with a bright blue skin and big yellow sun. “Knew we could get stuck there for a while – wanted you to see everything first.”

You only hummed in response, a small nod in your head as you kept your eyes forward. Although you did find yourself so drawn to the art on the wall, you couldn’t help but let your mind spin and spin around until the words were falling from your mouth.

“Rory,” you murmured, bottom lip between your teeth, “she has a thing for you, no?”

You could hear Harry pause from next to you, “I – yeah. Well, no – we used to date.”

Only nodding, you kept your eyes forward although you knew Harry was burning holes into the side of your face.

“We still kind of run in the same circle – it ended a long time ago I didn’t –”

He stopped rambling when you turned to face him. “It’s okay,” you forced a little laugh to your voice. “I was just wondering.”

Harry fell quiet again, as you turned back to the paintings on the wall in front of you. “I’m really happy you came with me,” he whispered, lips nearing your ear after a moment. “I’m really happy you’re here.” 

You turned your head around, glancing at him over your shoulder. He didn’t move away from you, hand on your back giving your hip a little squeeze before slipping away from your body. He hit your hand with his, letting his hand fall to his side.

The words he spoke were swimming through your head, having you bite your lips together to fight off a wide smile. Just the way he was looking at you made your knees weak.

“Okay,” you whispered, lips clamped together as you turned back around.

You spent the next few hours walking around, looking at everything, chatting with Harry’s friends. You had gotten along well with Yanis, he had talked at length about the series that was being exhibited and you were honestly in awe of everyone’s talent and creativity.

It was about half past ten and you were just heading back from a quick trip to the restroom, when your name being spoken had you looking around to see who it was.

Rory was slightly towering over you as she neared you, speaking your name again to grab your attention. “Haven’t gotten the chance to chat with you, how are you liking the show?”

Trying your best to hide the shock from your face, you sent her a smile as she stopped next to you. “I really like it – haven’t been to too many shows if I’m being honest, but this is for sure one of the best I’ve been too.”

“Yeah, Yanis really did amazing with everything – Harry too.”

You only nodded, not too sure what to respond in the moment. She kept speaking. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

The question took you a bit by surprise, but at the same time didn’t shock you all that much. “Oh, we’re not –”

You cut yourself off, and she took the moment to speak again. “Sorry I don’t mean to put you on the spot, we’re all just a bit nosy about Harry’s life sometimes.”

Nodding, you couldn’t help the way your eyes narrowed slightly on her. “It’s no problem,” you shot her a small smile.

“Do you make art as well?” She changed the subject.

“No,” you caught Harry’s eye from across the floor of the gallery, “God no, I can barely take a decent picture. What about you?”

“Oh, sorry I just kind of assumed! But yes, I have my own practice. Mostly installation, plus some two-dimensional work as well as some performances here and there.”

Again, you wished you fully understood everything that was being discussed. “That’s so cool,” was all you said.

“Thank you,” she smiled down at you. “What do you do for work?”

“I uhm –” feeling somehow small for the words you were about to speak and a small pit of anxiety at the bottom of your stomach. “I work in a café.”

“She manages a café,” Harry’s voice surprised you slightly as it was suddenly heard from next to you. You turned, seeing him take a few more steps towards you and stopped when he was right next to you, facing Rory.

He was surprised to see the two of you speaking in the first place, a maybe the slightest bit worried when he saw the way you were slightly recoiling away from her.

“Oh nice!” She seemed a bit surprised from Harry’s arrival as well. “Sorry,” she paused, her eyes flitting over to somewhere behind you. “I just saw a friend I wanted to chat with before she leaves – it was nice meeting you!”

And then she was off.

You were quiet for a second, as you felt Harry’s hand brush over your middle. You barely registered the movement, bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a bit lost in your head – just the slightest offput from the conversation you had just had.

“Are you enjoying yourself?"

Harry’s voice pulled your attention away from your thoughts, shooting him a quick glance as his words registered. You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips as you saw his eyes never leave yours. “Yeah, I am.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

You fully turned to face him, standing in front of him. He saw your gaze flick between his, curious look in your eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he paused. Unable to help his eyes from falling down to your mouth, he watched the way the lightly shining lips were curved in a smile. “I just remembered something I read in a horoscope. And I was thinking … fancy a star-gazing stroll?”

It was your turn to pause, fully turning on your feet until you were standing directly in front of him. He could tell that you were trying to keep the smile from growing on your lips, but the gleam in your eyes immediately gave you away.

“I think I read something about that somewhere too,” was all you said, speaking quietly enough for just the two of you. The teasing tone of your voice, paired with the way your eyes seemed to glow more with every passing second sent a warmth straight through Harry’s stomach.

“Is that a yes?”

You let out what could only be called a giggle. “Yeah, it is.” 

Harry didn’t try to hide his giddiness a single bit and sent a short nod towards you before he was again leading you through the gallery. With a quick stop by Yanis to give him a hug and congratulate him, and a wave on your part before he was pulling you out of the gallery.

He was a few steps in front of you, holding the glass door open as you stepped out next to him. This time, he didn’t try and hide the way his eyes fell to eye your outfit, eyelids dropping slightly with a smirk on his lips.

“Christ,” he muttered, joining you by your side. He watched the way you obviously noticed his stare, giving him a small shove with your shoulder. “You really do look stunning.”

“You already said that,” you hummed. 

“Needed to be said again,” he couldn’t help but brush his fingertips over the raised orange embroidery that went up your side. “Also, I don’t know if you noticed sunshine, but we match.”

Sunshine.

You glanced down his outfit from the corner of your eye. The dark hues of both outfits along with a splash of orange looked like you guys had almost planned it. “I did notice, actually.”

“I think that’s quite sexy of us.”

You laughed, following Harry along the sidewalk.

The air outside had cooled down a bit, still warm enough that you were perfectly content in what you were wearing but not so hot that your skin felt sticky.

Harry led the way through the emptying streets, walking so close that it seemed every other step his hand hit yours. He really felt like he had been flirting with the idea of grabbing your hand for what, maybe a week now? He just wanted to grab you, hold you close.

Hell, he had been a lot closer to you than that before.

Walking through a darkened alleyway to take a quick short cut, you shuffled even closer to him. You kept your eyes focused on your surroundings out of habit, even if you were trusting where Harry was bringing you.

It was then that when his hand hit yours, it didn’t move away like it usually did and instead his pinky finger caught your own and soon he was lacing every last one of his fingertips with yours until your palms kissed.

Harry kept his gaze forward, but from the corner of his eye he saw you shoot your newly intertwined hands a quick look. While revelling in the way that your palm felt in his, and in the way that  every finger laced with his seemed to cause a tiny jolt to go  straight  through his body, he nearly missed the way you pulled yourself even closer into him.

By the time the water was invading your sight, after about fifteen minutes or so of walking in peaceful silence, Harry noticed the way you were walking so close to him your head was nearly resting on his shoulder.

He basked in the way you seemed to draw into him as much as he did you, and the way that you urged to be close to him and feel yourself against him just as much. The thought itself sent a new wave of butterflies straight through his stomach, clouding his mind as his pace slowed near the water. 

Clearing his throat, he turned to catch a glance at you. “I remember you telling me how you like to walk along the river, but you didn’t get to do it that often.”

Smiling softly at the memory of the conversation the two of you shared after running into each other at the grocery store; you thought of that as the first time you really felt captivated by Harry.

“Is this kind of what you meant?” He asked.

You glanced around, seeing a wooden boardwalk start not too far off. “Not quite.”

Turning around and tugging him by the hand, following the expanse of the water until your shoes were walking over wooden boards that hovered above the river.

Your pace slowed even more, your hand fell from his grip as you glanced around and took in the sights around you. It was a relatively calm night out, no harsh winds upsetting the murky waters. The lights ended by the street, only a soft hue for the two of you as the boats docked out on the water were barely in sight.

There didn’t seem to be any other people out near you – then realizing that you had no idea what time it was, something that wasn’t often the case and something that you enjoyed a great deal.

The moon was high and bright in the sky, with the few stars that could be seen dusting the sky. It was for sure a star-gazing stroll, just as Harry promised.

“Looks like a painting,” you spoke from next to him, gaze out over the moving surface of the water.

Nearing the railing, the two of you took slow steps along the wooden boards. Harry laughed softly from next to you, the sound carrying in the empty space.

“Have you always been into painting?” You asked, eyes trained on the wood in front of you.

Harry hummed next to you. “I think so, yeah. I guess you could say I was drawn to the arts since I was young, I remember my mum bought me a little painting kit when I was like seven or eight.”

You nodded as he continued to speak. “Started a bit more seriously through school, like getting into techniques and stuff. But I never thought I would ever try and make a career out of it or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Harry paused, hand pushing through his hair. “I actually studied marketing for a bit, thought I would go into business or something like that.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped past your lips, surprised by the news. “I’m sorry but I can’t picture you as a business student.”

“Yeah,” his cheeks dimpled. “Neither can I. Left after nearly two years. Then I started taking a few painting courses at a local art store and I’ve been doing just that ever since.”

“Wow,” you breathed out. “And your family they were – I mean you made everything work out for you?”

He nodded again. “Obviously I kept a job for a while, I was actually working at that little art shop for a few years too. My family was okay with it – my mum especially was always supportive. I remember when I told her I wanted to leave school to work on art she said she couldn’t imagine me doing anything else.”

“I love that,” you hummed, biting your lips together. A small part of you wished that you had that kind of unconditional support. But you kept your lips together and pushed the thoughts from your head, not wanting to bring down the mood.

“I send her some of my paintings; take them off the frame and roll them up for her. Her and my sister flew out and came to my first show over here – even though I only had two works in it.”

Mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for having correctly assumed Harry couldn’t have been an only child with the way he acted. You really did love when your hunch about someone was proven right.

“That’s really sweet,” you smiled at him. “You must miss them.”

“I do, yeah.” He hummed, catching your eyes with his for a second. “But I am glad to have moved out here. I felt like it could be temporary – I would love to live in London someday but I’m really happy to be here.”

Only nodding, you felt yourself getting lost in your own thoughts for a brief second before Harry pulled you back out of them. “What about you, you miss home much?”

Shrugging, you didn’t know what to say. “I mean a bit, in the way that anyone gets nostalgic. But,” you took a breath.

“I know this sounds terrible but honestly I don’t. It’s… exhausting to be home. I moved further away for school for a reason.”

You didn’t know what else to say, hoping that Harry would jump in with something else. You shot him a quick look, seeing his eyes intent on yours as he listened and waited for you too keep speaking.

“That’s not terrible,” he spoke quietly, after a few more seconds in silence.

You hummed, not sure what to say. Walking in silence for a few more moments and taking another breath before you chose to speak again. “My parents live hours away from each other now anyway, so I feel like there’s not really a home to go back to, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s voice was soft.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you smiled, small shrug in your shoulders. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m happy to have moved away – happy to be here too.”

Harry remained quiet, giving you the chance to go on if you wanted to. Although right now you really didn’t want to – you were having such a good evening and you didn’t want to bring any of that down by discussing your family.

Quietly walking side by side, with only the moon and the stars surrounding the both of you, Harry cleared his throat once more.

“So, what was it again that you like about this place?”

“Just the mood of it,” you shot him a glance. “Something about walking along the wood – I just really like it. And I like the smell too, I know it’s probably diesel and chemicals but it’s just oddly nostalgic for me for no real reason.”

“I see that,” Harry smiled. “So other than walking out here, what other small things make you happy?”

You were confused for a second, Harry further explaining himself after you didn’t answer.

“Just like, anything that could seem insignificant that you enjoy for whatever reason at all.”

“Oh,” you hummed, a small smile tugged at your lips at the question. You didn’t know why it made your heart soar that he was asking you about this – but it just did.

“This is really dumb,” you said after a moment. “But at work, I really like it when an older customer – they’re usually regulars – when they come in with their book and they get a coffee and a little cake or a treat and just sit there for hours.”

Pausing, not sure how to explain how you felt because right now it just sounded like any other interaction with a patron. “It's a happy-sad feeling – I don’t really know why. I love that coming into my café and having a chat with me is part of their routine, but there’s also something that just makes me feel the tiniest bit sad…”

Harry remained silent, letting you explain yourself. “It’s like, sometimes you watch a movie that has a happy ending, but you can’t help but feel the slightest bit melancholic, you know?”

Your eyes darted over to him, seeing him nod. “I know the feeling, yeah.”

Harry had never really thought about that before, never paying too close attention to the other patrons when he frequented your café. “You pay close attention to a lot of regulars, huh? I thought I was special.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as your shoulder bumped his.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” you teased, feeling his pace slow down, deciding to stop where you were.  You leant up against the railing that  kept you from the water.

“What about you?” You turned to him. “I know you said you didn’t want to share much about the paintings you're working on currently, but what’s something small that you like to pay attention to for your art?”

“I don’t want to bore you with every detail…” he started out, feeling like he had been speaking about his practice the entire time.

You shook your head. “I want to hear about your art – I like it.”

Harry slipped his lips between his teeth, head dipping down for a second as he felt his cheeks blush. “Well,” he started. “My current work is still very much in progress – not really ready for anyone to see or hear about it just yet.”

“But right now – or for the past year or so I’ve been really paying attention to moments between people.”

“Just … small touches or moments of intimacy, you know? Like seeing someone rest their head on someone else’s shoulder, seeing two people hug in a big crowd. Just small moments like that where you know that they’re in their own world.”

You were quiet, even after he was done speaking. Leaning your forearms against the wooden railing, feet kicking at nothing on the ground. You saw exactly what he explained – about the little touches of public, yet private, intimacy.

“I know what you mean,” you finally said, voice quiet as it carried over the space between the two of you. Harry has his back against the railing as he keeps his eyes on you.

After he realized you weren’t going to say anything else, he kept speaking. “It’s nice, you know? Seeing people wrapped up in their … love and adoration for each other like that.”

You hummed, his words swimming through your head. “Guess I never really thought about that –” cutting yourself off, before continuing even quieter, “– guess I haven’t really experienced it like that.”

Another wave of silence washed over you, before Harry turned in his place so that he could face you directly.

The reflection of the moon rippled in the water. “Have you ever been in love?”

His words caught you slightly off guard.

You had been in relationships, sure. You’d had partners tell you that they loved you, and maybe once or twice you returned the sentiment. But you didn’t really know what it meant.

“I –” you paused. “I don’t know.”

“You say that a lot.”

You could just make out Harry’s expression. The lighting was sparse, but every little dip and curve on his features were clear as day, and his eyes held that little smile they often did.

“I know,” the words were too small puffs of air past your lips.

You held your breath in, before continuing. “I’ve always thought that I’d know, but I feel like I’ve never been in it in the way that you described. Not fully. I – I don’t know.”

The way he looked at you made your heart beat just a bit faster in your chest, so loud you were sure he must be able to hear it.

“It’s okay to not know,” he spoke so softly. You didn’t even realize you were leaning in closer to him until your knee bumped his.

“Have you?” You cleared your throat, the noise breaking through the otherwise quiet surrounding. “Have you ever been in love?”

You didn’t know why you were so afraid of his answer.

“I think so, or,” Harry paused, a small furrow in his brow as his eyes were still intent on yours. “I thought so.”

This time, your heart stopped.

“Thought so?” Voice sounding a bit hoarse, you again found yourself afraid of his answer.

There was a small shrug in his shoulders. You couldn’t help but briefly think about Rory, about whether he was ever in love with her, but you shook the thought from your head.

“I guess… I guess I’ve been heartbroken before. I’ve loved, for sure. But I don’t know if I was really in love. If that makes sense.”

Maybe he really was just as confused as you were.

“I guess you don’t know until you’re really in it.” He had his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I guess you don’t,” you repeated.

What Harry wanted to tell you, was that he had never felt the way he did when he was with you.

He also didn’t know how to tell you – he really felt like he didn’t know anything at that moment either.

He was drawn to you from the first moment he had spoken to you, and found himself unable to ever get enough every time he saw you. It had been over a month and a half since he’d first walked into your café, since he’d first met you, and he couldn’t believe the way you made him swoon.

But he didn’t truly realize that, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off.

So instead, he reached forward so that his palm could rest under your jaw and stepped a tad closer to you. He saw you visibly leaning in to his touch, your eyelashes hitting the top of your cheeks for a brief moment with a slow blink.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he whispered, voice low as his knuckles brushed over your jaw.

You nearly sighed at his touch, butterflies in your stomach erupting once again when he spoke so softly. He always seemed to be able to grab such a strong hold on you – both physically and metaphorically – but all while treating you with the gentlest of touches. “Of course.”

“I really,” he paused with his own sigh. Hand on your jaw sliding over your skin, grabbing a light hold at the back of your neck. “I really like spending time with you like this.”

Only able to nod, almost having to look away from his intense gaze. There was nothing else to look at though, nothing else you wanted to look at. 

“Me too.” The words were barely there, just a pass of air from the back of your throat.

You felt his other hand smooth over your spine, fingertips finding your waist as he seemed to be blindly tracing the raised orange embroidery on your dress. Further leaning into his touch, you knew your eyes were darting all around his face as you were unable to focus on just one thing.

His own eyes fell down once more to the curve of your lips, and you felt them fall parted with your tongue wetting them on instinct.

“Can I kiss you?”

Nearly wanting to giggle at the question, as he had done much more than kiss you in the past week, and since the question seemed to be just a little late, but a laugh was the last thing on your mind right then.

All you could do was nod in his grasp, your eyes never leaving his – not for one single second. After a heavy swallow and a raspy little “yes” leaving your mouth, you let your hands fall to his shoulders to embrace him closer.

He pulled you closer in a quick motion, hand on your back holding you tight. Your chest fell against his, head remaining upright with his thumb still under your jaw.

Lips pressing against yours lightly at first, like whispers of a kiss against your mouth. He pecked two, three, four kisses on your lips like that before you edged your jaw forward and let him fully capture your mouth.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears when he fully pressed his lips against yours, with just enough pressure and desire to make your head spin. A little gasp escaped the back of your throat when he grabbed hold of your bottom lip between his, a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive skin.

Lips parted together, never able to get enough of the way he felt against you. Harry’s tongue heatedly pushed past your lips mouth gladly opening for him. He grazed into your mouth, arm around you pulling you closer to him. Hot breath mixing together, he pushed your back against the railing behind you just a bit more so that his hips could press with yours.

His hand on your back had migrated, dancing over the curve of your bum before sliding around and giving your hip a sharp squeeze. It never rested in one place, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your body against his.

You returned his fervour, one hand smoothing over his neck until your fingertips were being pushed through his hair. Fist closing as you tugged gently on his hair, eliciting a little groan from Harry before he was licking into you once more.

Minutes passed, you had no idea how long the two of you spent like that under the stars and the moon.

He pulled away, barely, for a breath with heavy eyelids trained on you. His forehead was a millimetre away, loose curls brushing over your skin and tip of his lips brushing yours when he spoke.

“I,” he sighed, voice sounding so close to you as your eyelids just barely opened. “I – you’re unreal.”

His voice rasped slightly, as if he had just been woken up. The way he murmured  quietly against you had your head spinning, thinking about how he would sound moaning your name. 

Just as he was moving in to capture your lips with his one more time, a quiet buzzing was heard from somewhere. It took you a moment to register that it was your phone that was sitting in your purse.

“I think that’s yours,” Harry chuckled quietly, air hitting your lips as he spoke.

“Oh, fuck I’m sorry,” you pulled your arms away from him, fingers fumbling with the zipper of your bag. Pulling your phone out, you saw your brother's name flash across the screen.

You knew you should answer it, but you didn’t want to and he had already interrupted you. Declining the call with a text, telling him you couldn’t talk right now, you placed your phone back into your bag.

“Sorry about that,” you hummed, gazing back up at Harry.

“It’s not a problem,” he grinned down at you, a hand still wrapped around your waist. “It is getting late though, let me get you home, yeah?”

Waking up to a ringing phone wasn’t ideal. Especially early on your day off.

At first you thought it was your alarm, and you tried to snooze it. And then when it started ringing again, you slowly blinked yourself out of sleep to squint at the phone screen.

Realizing it was a call, realizing it was a call from your boss at seven in the morning, you sprang up.

“Hello?”

She spoke your name, seemingly relieved to hear you answering the phone. “I’m so sorry to be calling you, I know it’s your day off.”

“It’s okay,” your voice was groggy. “What’s up?”

“No one’s at the shop right now – no one’s opened.”

You jumped out of bed this time, double checking the clock on your phone to see it five minutes past seven. “What?!”

“I happened to check the cameras this morning, and no one is there. Do you think you could head over there to open?”

You let out a sigh, hearing the desperation in her voice. She was away at the moment, otherwise you knew she would do it herself. It was also lucky that she could check the security cameras from her phone, something you knew she did very rarely.

“It would just be for a bit; I can get a hold of someone else to finish off the rest of the shift.”

“Yeah I can go over,” you were already looking for your pants. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you so much,” she rushed through the phone. “Noah was supposed to open today I think, right? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him but not luck so far.”

After getting off the phone with your boss, you quickly pulled on jeans and a bra, a baggy shirt over the rest of your body before jumping to the washroom.

There had been moments where you had to get ready in a rush before, of course you had, it happened to everyone to sleep past their alarm. But the magic of the opening shift is that even if you were late to the beginning of the shift, it was always possible to get there before the café actually opened.

Today you didn’t have that pleasure, you would likely be arriving after half past seven at the earliest.

Mentally cursing Noah, you tried to the best with your hair you possibly could and roughly rubbed in some moisturizer into your skin before you were running out the door.

After a not so elegant speed walk down the street, you were unlocking the café doors and unfortunately leaving the door propped open for anyone to walk in.

And to your displeasure, people did walk in. You had a grumbling regular who was mad he couldn’t come in bright and early, you had a big family grabbing an early breakfast, you just had too many people asking you for things all while trying to open the café.

It was only after an hour that things settled a bit, that you were able to catch a breather and actually grab yourself a glass of water.

You were sat on the little stool in the back room, keeping your eye on the front counter in case anyone showed up. Updating Grace, your boss and owner of the café, on how everything was fine on your end and that you still hadn’t heard a peep from Noah who was the one supposed to open today.

It was just as you sent him one more text, that your name was heard from a familiar voice. You saw Harry poking his head through the doorway, both of your expressions mirroring the others in your surprise.

“Hey,” you sighed, running a hand over your hair, knowing you looked a bit a mess. Standing from the stool, you walked the short distance to the doorway as you leant up against it with your glass in hand.

“I thought you were off today?” He grinned dimples showing on his cheeks. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just – didn’t expect it is all.”

“I am,” you couldn’t help the hint of bitterness in your tone. “No one came in to open this morning – I got called in.”

You saw his eyebrows fall to a small furrow. “Oh fuck. How does that happen, no one opening?”

Only shrugging your shoulders, you took another sip of your water. You couldn’t help but gently shut your eyes, feeling your exhaust slowly overcome you.

“I don’t know. Can’t get a hold of the person who was supposed to open. I mean I’m assuming that they’re just still sleeping or something.”

“That’s shitty, and on your day off too.”

“It’s okay,” you shot him a small smile. “At least I don’t have to work the full shift today, just opening and I should be off soon, someone else is coming in to finish the shift. Did you want to get a coffee?”

“Uhm – if you were taking a little break its okay, I don’t need to –”

You cut him off with a laugh. “Stop that, I’ll get you a coffee.”

“Just to go for today,” he spoke, as you were tamping the espresso grounds. Nodding as you grabbed a paper to go cup, placing it under the portafilter and pressing the button to begin the slow and steady pour of espresso.

“What do you have going on today?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the passing seconds of the espresso pour.

“I’m actually headed over to Yanis’ place – a few of us are working on a collaboration piece together.”

“That’s so cool,” you smiled, sliding the to-go cup over to him as he grabbed a lid from where they were on the counter.

“What about you?” He returned your grin. “Get some sleep after this impromptu morning shift and before another week of work?”

“Oh, I’m actually going to be off for the next week or so,” you spoke absentmindedly. “My brother is coming to stay with me.”

“That’ll be good,” Harry mused from across you, having never heard you speak about your brother.

You only sighed, his words not really registering. “I guess.”

Not wanting to think too much about the week you were going to have to spend with your brother, you cleaned out the portafilter and tried to change the subject. “What are you working on with everyone?”

Harry was quiet for a second, eyes intent on you before he cleared his throat and answered. “It's all Yanis’ idea – he wanted a big collaboration but really, he’s the brains behind everything. We’re just starting today so honestly I’m not really sure what will come of it.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna be good,” you grinned.

“I hope so –” he paused, checking his phone, “sorry I have to head out. But I hope your day gets better and I’ll see you soon!”

You waved as he left, only a few more minutes into you were able to leave the café.

You physically felt your shoulders drop when you saw Aleena walk through the door. She had been scheduled to work today already, just coming in a bit earlier to give you a big helping hand.

“Thank you so much,” was the first thing you said when you saw her. “You are the absolute best. I promise I’ll buy you a drink, or dinner.”

She laughed. “No need for that, really. Should be Noah buying both of us dinner.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, nodding your head. “He really should be.”

She clocked in, and you waited a second before speaking again. “Is it okay if I head out now? I can stay and help if you need me to but –”

She cut you off. “Go, go. I know you have to go get your brother later today, and I’m sure you don’t want to be here right now.”

You could kiss her. “Really, thank you so much.”

You were rushing out of the café after grabbing your bag. You wanted to shower as soon as you got home, hopefully having the time for a little nap before you had to go over to the airport to greet your brother.

Just as you were turning the corner away from the café, a familiar outfit across the street caught your attention. You recognized Harry, nearly amused to see him still so close to the café. Your pace slowed down slightly, you were considering catching his attention or maybe just yelling his name across the street as you didn’t really have time to stop and chat once again.

Although any idea you had fell out of your head when you saw two more people with him, getting a better view of them as you walked along your side of the street. You recognized one of those people to be Yanis, and after a small squint you realized who the other person was.

You kept walking, eyes flitting over to the group across the street a few more times before you turned another corner and away from them. You knew you had no reason to be upset, or not upset, annoyed that Harry was spending time with his ex.

He had mentioned that they both still ran in the same circles, but you didn’t imagine that meant hanging out just on the daily. Or maybe not the daily, in fact you had no idea how often they spent time together. He had never mentioned her to you before, and you tried not to feel overly annoyed because you knew you had no real right to.

This just wasn’t coming out to be a very good day for you.

Trying to push everything about Harry and Rory out of your mind, you rushed the rest of the way home as you were slightly dreading the fact that in a few hours you were going to have to head over and greet your brother at the airport.

The first day with your brother was okay.

You were never that close growing up, for no particular reason. It wasn’t until you grew older that you realized you wished you had a better relationship with him, that you wished you could be like those siblings on TV.

He tormented you, in the way that older brothers usually did, but there was never a good side to your relationship with him. It got to a point where you began to realize that you nearly resented people for how close they were with their siblings.

Ever since your parent’s divorce, the two of you somehow grew closer and further apart. Closer in the sense that now it truly was the two of you against them, but further apart because your lives were in such different places.

He always knew  what he wanted to do in life, and he was currently doing well for himself. He had gotten married already, and was living in a nice apartment that was also close to both your parents, much closer than you were.

He was going to be spending three days with you, his idea. You knew it would be bad to say no, knowing deep down that you needed to maintain a relationship with him. You loved him – he was your brother but you didn’t necessarily want to spend three days with him.

You always came out of any interaction – even a phone call with him – exhausted and anxious about the state your life was in.

Since you were going to be taking some time off anyway, you decided to give yourself an extra two days off just so you can have some time for yourself and didn’t need to jump right back into work.

“How’s Sophie?” You asked your brother about his wife, as you unpacked some groceries you got after meeting him at the airport. They had gotten married nearly two years ago.

“We’re good, she’s good,” he seemed to pause, sitting in your recently deep cleaned kitchen.

“Yeah?” You probed further, noticing his sudden hesitation.

“She’s actually – she’s pregnant.”

You nearly dropped the knife you had just grabbed. “What?”

He nodded. “She’s due next March. We’re really excited.”

“Oh my God –” you muttered, still in the headspace where when you heard when you heard the word ‘pregnant’ it was usually followed by anxiety not joy, even if some of your friends from college had kids of their own as well.

“Congratulations,” you snapped out of it. “That’s – that’s great! Congratulations, I’m sure she’s really happy.”

“Yeah, she is. We both are.”

“That’s great,” you repeated, turning back around and busying yourself with starting to prepare dinner.

He was quiet for a second. “How about you, are you seeing anyone?”

You very rarely shared details of your personal life with your brother, unless specifically asked. And even then, it was all very vague.

“Uhm,” you didn’t know why you were pausing; you knew your answer. The question was simple, the answer was just as simple – but for some reason the reality seemed much more complicated.

But you really didn’t want to talk about that now, especially not with your brother. “No, not really.”

You only heard him hum from behind you, before he spoke again. “Oh. You know I was talking with mom – you know she was younger than you when she had me.”

Christ.

“I know,” you only muttered, not giving him the satisfaction of getting upset over his words.

“All I’m saying,” he could likely sense your annoyance. “Is that I know you’re having fun out here in the city and whatever, but you’re nearly thirty.”

You spun around, unable to hide your anger. “I’m not nearly thirty. I’m in my mid-twenties – and even if I was, so what? There’s no timeline I need to be following.”

“I’m just saying” he put up his hands in defense, as if you had been attacking him unprovoked.

You had to tell yourself to not continue down this path, he wouldn’t budge in what he was saying. “How’s work going?” He said instead.

Again, something else you didn’t feel too keen on discussing with him. “Fine.”

“If you wanted to get your foot into something else, I can probably help you with something at my company.”

Your jaw clenched. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Seriously – even in the New York office I could help you out. You’d probably need to intern first –”

“I said it was fine,” you cut him off, feeling worn. “Thank you, but I’m okay with what I’m doing.”

Again, he only put his hands up as if he was doing nothing wrong. You willed yourself to not feel too angry over it, knowing that you were already mentally tired and if you kept speaking with him about this you might start crying – something he’d only use against you.

After a few much needed topic changes, dinner was ready and you were playing a show the both of you used to enjoy when you were in secondary school. You didn’t go to bed very late, making his bed on the couch before you headed off to sleep as well.

Only two more days, you told yourself. It would be fine – it was your brother and everything was going to be fine.

Settling yourself into bed, phone in hand as you tentatively typed in Harry’s username into Instagram. You found it quickly, seeing him having no new posts since the time you and Mae had looked over his page. Although, there was a little circle around his icon showing that he had a story.

Curiosity getting the best of you, knowing full well your own username would show up if he were to check who was looking at his story, you tapped on the icon.

Holding your thumb down on the single picture eyeing over the three accounts that were tagged in the story.

You paused when you read over a username that contained the name ‘Rory’.

So he had been spending the day with her.

You tapped on her username, watching the app take you to her account. It was a public page, with a pretty hefty following. You scrolled through rows of images, tapping on a few here and there to further inspect the posts. Most were about her art, some pictures of herself and her friends here and there but nothing out of the ordinary for a twenty-something woman.

Holy shit. You were about two years deep on her account, seeing pictures from a show she had in Berlin. You couldn’t help feel the slightest bit impressed.

Going over to her tagged photos, you scrolled a bit seeing mostly photos with friends and a few of what you figured were her art works.

The one that caught your eye, though, was a painting that seemed familiar to you for some reason.

Going over to the image, you realized why there was an air of familiarity to it. The picture was from Harry’s Instagram, a painting he had done of her back in early 2018.

His style had seemingly slightly evolved since then, but it was still very much him. The painting was of the side of her face, the setting around her not very defined so all the focus was on her profile. She was looking away, the side of her face painted in hues of gold and yellow that blended into her dark hair.

Green and yellow surrounded her, like she was outside during a sunset – it was a beautiful painting of her. The caption read “inspiration”.

You shrank back into bed.

The post was about two and a half years ago, it was in the past and you shouldn’t be overthinking it. But you felt small in comparison.

She had clearly been his muse, of some kind and the fact that he was still spending time with her just was sitting right with you.

You knew, a huge part of you knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this. You tried to think back to all the stomach fluttering and weak-kneed kisses he had given you, the way that every touch of his skin on yours felt so right.

You thought back to the other night, the nearly romantic conversation you had shared before he kissed any anxiety or fear out of you.

But still, a smaller but louder part of you was telling you that it didn’t mean as much as you originally thought it did.

The day seemed to be one thing after another, and just as you were about to shut off your phone and try not to cry because you knew it’d make you feel silly, your phone buzzed with a text.

Again, this day was just one thing after another. It was Grace, your boss, asking you to cover Noah’s shift tomorrow. He had taken the weekend off last minute, and his 9-3 tomorrow couldn’t be covered by anyone else.

Typing back an annoyed ‘yes’, this time you couldn’t help but feel truly upset. You were exhausted from work, honestly. You knew you would still have some time off, and Grace was so kind to you, but you were just. Tired. 

[midnighter13]

the world in mutable delight

Y'all I'm so full of feelings. So many of them. Anyway I've been shouting about Caleb using his Transmuter's Stone on Molly to anyone who will listen for actual years so now, please have more soft pre-widomauk feelings about it.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31672169

The process of recovery, Caleb knows, can be a strange one. Of course, there is hardly anyone stranger than the singular Mollymauk Tealeaf, to begin with. Between the circumstances of his deaths, his lives, and all the magic that brought him back to them, it is hardly a surprise that he needs some time to gather up all the patchwork pieces of himself again. Caleb has no doubt that he will reclaim everything he wishes to, in time; after all, he has never known anyone better at creating beauty from shattered glass. The massive stained-glass tribute within his tower is as close as Caleb could come to capturing the artistry with which Molly created his style and his life and his whole self, and seeing him in vivid, vibrant life again has reminded Caleb that even his best effort could never possibly do him justice.

It is best that way, though. Mollymauk Tealeaf should never be captured in something so still as glass, so static as paint. A whirling dervish of color and laughter and terrible ideas and sheer wonder needs a living canvas to flourish, and thanks to a miracle, he has that chance again.

 One day soon perhaps, Caleb would like to ask Molly about the decor of the tower. He is still fond of his best effort, the beauty that Molly’s memory lends to his library, but it needn’t be the same forever. It would be equally wonderful to listen to Mollymauk create something new, to see if Caleb can create with magic what Molly’s endless font of color and bullshit can imagine.

… Of course, that would require Caleb to overcome the way his mind goes blank every time he thinks about approaching Molly. There are so many things he wants to say, needs to say where Molly can hear him this time, but he doesn’t seem to have the language to express the maelstrom of emotions trapped inside his chest. There is so much happiness and relief and affection and amusement and delight and and and— 

And it is all stopped at the back of his throat by the sharp point of the memory that springs up every time, the fact that the manifestation of all of Caleb’s magic, all of his drive and talent and hope and hunger, failed when Molly needed him. Again. Nine months ago, on Glory Run Road, Caleb’s magic was not enough to keep him alive. And two days ago, in the crumbling city in the Astral Sea, Caleb’s magic was not enough to bring him back.

So. There are a few things he must grapple with himself, before he can indulge in everything he wants to say to Molly.

It has been fairly easy to hang back, so far. He has managed to distance himself enough from the celebrations to keep from spilling his heart across the ground at Mollymauk’s feet. Simply looking at him, vibrant and energetic again, is enough to sustain him—simply hearing his voice, the handful of words he speaks with endless inflections, is a feast when he has been starving. So Caleb stands a handful of feet away at all times, and watches the rest of his family hug and touch and reconnect until his eyes go dry.

The first night of their return to the Material Plane would have been no good, anyway. With how tired they all are, how nearly broken and still very bruised each and every body among them is, it is not the time to show Molly around the whole tower. There will be time for that later, always time for that later, to his greatest elation—later, he will take Molly by the hand and show him everything that he built, every piece of his heart that he conjures to house his friends, his family. He will show him that no matter the time that passed, he kept Molly safe in his mind and gave him a place here, always waiting for him to come home. 

But that will have to wait until Caleb’s hands no longer shake with the phantom weight of his Transmuter’s Stone; and besides, he would have to wait anyway until Molly and Yasha willingly part from each other, and those two certainly have shown no signs of budging from each other’s sides, not through the exhausted pile the (whole, finally whole) Mighty Nein slept in that first night, nor at meals with the welcoming Clay family the next day, nor the hours full of odd conversation and new acquainting and re-familiarizing that followed. There has been plenty to occupy Molly upon his return, more than enough to let Caleb sit outside of arm’s reach and drink in everyone else’s stories, and pretend that his heart has not leapt every time Molly’s bright, lively eyes have turned to him and lingered in return.

Now, basking in the afternoon sun on the second bright day since their family saved the world and was made whole, Caleb knows that he should be taking more action to recover his arcane stores. But each time he tells himself that he will get up and look for a suitable stone, his throat becomes tight again. He makes excuses to Essek, to Veth, when they ask: they are safe here in the Grove so he does not need the protection it grants him; they are among a family that seems very partial to glowing crystals as light sources, so he is in no rush to regain the darkvision he lost with the Eyes; why bother to make himself quicker to move, when they are all enjoying a well-earned rest? Neither of them question him further on it, though there is deep understanding in Essek’s eyes and a shrewd worry in Veth’s. They let him lie back and look up at the endlessly-shifting canopy of green, and try to reorganize his thoughts in peace.

Someone, however, does not abide by that peace. Only a half-hour into his meditation, and having made very little progress in unsnarling his tangled heart, Caleb hears the soft sound of bare feet on moss approach, and stop beside him. When he turns his head, there, of course, is Mollymauk.

“Magician,” Molly says firmly, and plunks himself down on the ground beside Caleb’s head. He settles in, wiggling his toes in the moss. One foot has nails freshly painted in bright teall, the other in charming pink. Both colors, of course, suit him perfectly. Then he says, “Mister Caleb,” with a widening grin, and Caleb’s breath catches once more in his throat.

“Hallo, Mister Mollymauk,” he says in return, the smallest greeting that settles sweetly on his tongue. He pushes himself upright, and turns to face Molly in kind. “Your words are returning to you, it seems.”

“Some,” Molly says, and the word that is not empty is accompanied by a decisive little nod. It takes effort, it seems, but Mollymauk has always been an obstinate individual. Regaining all his words may be like trying to pick up pieces of confetti one at a time, but if Mollymauk wants them back he will have the time to do so now. And hopefully, his friends can continue to help.

“That is very good to hear,” Caleb replies, and he cannot stop the smile that spreads across his face at Molly’s pleased expression.

“Magician,” Molly repeats, and holds out a closed fist between them. Caleb hesitates, unsure if this is a greeting or a request—then Molly shakes his hand a little, impatiently, and Caleb obligingly holds out his own open palm beneath it. Mollymauk’s tail swishes in broad strokes behind him, and he opens his hand to drop something into Caleb’s palm.

A blue-grey stone the size of a hen’s egg hits his palm with a soft sound. There is no ring around this one like his first, but when it catches the light it sparkles with countless tiny deposits of mica, glittering like stars. Caleb blinks at it, then up at Mollymauk. “Ah… thank you?”

“Magician,” Molly insists; then, after a pause, “lucky,” accompanied by that little flicker of his fingers that he used many times before, whenever he mentioned how little he understood about magic or asked Caleb if he could cast a spell. And perhaps it is not elegant, no kind of official communication that even a Comprehend Language could parse, but Caleb understands him perfectly, and his throat stings as though he might cry.

“Oh,” he says, and stares down at the stone in his hand. “Th-thank you, Molly. How did you know…?”

“Joy—” Molly clears his throat, a quick little cough and a wrinkle of his nose that spells frustration with his voice. “Jester,” he says carefully, clearly, “told me. What—hmm. Happened. Empty—”

He takes a deep breath, seems to gather his thoughts. He reaches out and closes Caleb’s fingers around the rock in his palm. “Empty,” he says again, softer now. Then he says, “Caleb,” and brings his hand up and presses his lips to Caleb’s fingers.

Caleb’s heart is nearly tripping with how quickly it hums. His ears are hot, and he knows that the afternoon sun cannot be to blame in the pleasant shade of the Grove. “Molly,” he says, helplessly. “Molly, I—I’m sor—”

Molly’s tail smacks gently into his knee. His eyes narrow as he looks up at Caleb, somewhere between playful and warning. Caleb swallows hard. He takes in the sight of Mollymauk’s face before him, and memorizes the new weight of the stone in his hand.

“Ja, okay,” he manages. “I can use this, Molly. Thank you.”

“Ja, ja,” Molly says, grinning wide and cheeky once again, and the laugh that bursts from Caleb feels like lightness, like relief, like forgiveness.

Molly is still smiling at him, his tail tapping softly against the moss. He releases Caleb’s hand from his grasp, the stone safely inside. Then he puts one hand up and crooks his finger at Caleb, in a universal gesture of come here.

Obligingly, Caleb leans forward, narrowing the space between them and trying very hard not to blush all the way to the roots of his hair. Molly puts his hand on the side of Caleb’s face—warm, his touch is so warm and firm and real again. It’s almost enough to distract him, enough that it takes him by surprise when Molly leans forward and kisses him firmly on the forehead. Then he lingers there, and Caleb lets his eyes close just for the moment as he memorizes the feeling of being here, with Mollymauk Tealeaf, safe and happy once more.

When Molly sits back, he folds his hands in his lap, contentment written so plainly across his face that he hardly needs the words to say it. Caleb thinks of five things he could say, a dozen, a hundred possibilities like fragments of fate. But Molly only has so many words to give, and it is better, for right now, that Caleb can speak his language in return.

He holds up his free hand and crooks his finger at Mollymauk in the same gesture of come here. Molly’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and his tail patters rapidly against his shin—but he leans forward, a smile lurking at the corners of his lips, just enough to show the dimples in his cheeks and the light dancing in his eyes. Caleb puts his hand to Molly’s cheek, and gives in to the temptation to run his thumb gently along the vibrant peacock feather there. Molly’s smile grows wide, showing teeth and crinkling the corners of his eyes, as Caleb leans forward and presses his lips gently to Molly’s forehead. He holds him there for a long moment, savoring the warmth of his skin and the once-again inescapable whiff of sandalwood and incense.

Words are few and far between, right now, but words are not the only thing they need. For now there is touch, and there is warmth, and there is magic, and there is Molly. And for anything else, there will be time for that later. 

[hogarthwrites]

house sitting for two chapter 17

chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/f) genre: smut, slow romance, mutual pining warnings: graphic sex, alcohol words: 2,901 summary: You're unsure about dating someone else and it makes you guilty about still being in love. You make your mind up when you run into a certain someone one night.

Sam and Sully had gone to Las Vegas. “Just because,” Sam reasoned. He needed to forget how empty he felt whenever it was nighttime and he was lonely in bed.

Instead, he and Sully gambled, outsmarting each other in their own games. At the end of the night, Sam would go to the nearest bar to drink. That’s where he was reunited with Victoria, an old flame he had just before Panama.

Victoria – or Vix – as he called her, was a nice enough woman. She was as loud as he remembered her and he genuinely did have fun with her, and there was an understanding between them: it was just sex.

He'd take her to his RV every night, and every single time he fucked her, he thought of you. As he dug his fingers into the soft skin of her hips, he closed his eyes, imagining you, drowning out the sounds of her moans. He couldn't understand how he became so attached to you but no other person.

It was then the telephone started ringing. Sam sighed, considering his options. He wasn't close yet and he wasn't in a hurry so he got up and hobbled to the phone.

“Yeah?” Sam leaned against the wall, expecting it to be Sully calling from his five-star hotel room, but there was no response.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” Victoria whined. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” he turned away from her. “Hello? Hello?”

The line cut out, leaving Sam confused. Must've been a wrong number.

He drove Sully back to California the next day, feeling a little sad about being back in Paso Robles. It didn't stop him from looking around as he drove, hoping to get a glance of you – that is, if you stayed in the area.

“I've gotta say that was the first Vegas trip I've been on where I haven't made any life altering decisions,” Sully mused. “Hell, that was the mildest experience I've had.”

“Jeez, Victor, sorry I made it lame,” Sam joked. Deep down they knew they were too old to get shit faced drunk and make horrible decisions just after a few nights in Las Vegas.

“Ah, maybe next time,” Sully picked up his bags as Sam parked in front of his mid-century style home. “What's next for Samuel Drake?”

“Uh,” Sam thought. “Gonna visit a special lady named Irene, then hopefully my business partner can find another job for us.”

“Oh, Irene,” Sully chuckled.

“Ah, so you know her,” Sam smiled.

“The ‘70’s were a wild time, Sam,” Sully winked, confirming yours and Sam’s suspicions.

“Well, good for you, Victor. She's still single, just so you know.”

“Right,” Sully laughed. “Hey, maybe you should go up to Los Angeles, just see the sights. Weather’s nice this time of the year.”

Huh , Sam thought to himself. He hasn't been in LA in years. It won't hurt to stop by.

“Sure, Victor. I'll send you a postcard.”

“There's an open house this weekend,” Stephen said over the phone. “I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I'm totally cool with it.” You lay in the hammock of your backyard, smoking a cigarette and mindlessly scrolled through social media. Sam was always on your Instagram, giving you just a glimmer of hope.

“I'll call as much as I can. I love you.”

You paused, chewing on you lip. “I'll see you soon, Steve.”

You felt the tiniest pang of guilt as you felt a bit of relief to be away from Stephen for two weeks. As much as you tried, you couldn't love him. Sam was still in your mind and everytime you had sex with Stephen, you thought about Sam. It just didn't feel as good.

It didn't stop you from being racked with guilt. You didn't want to be with Stephen, but you didn't want to be lonely.

I'm a horrible person and I had the audacity to call Sam a selfish bastard, you let out an angry puff of smoke. Maybe we are a lot more alike than I thought.

You groaned as you slid off the hammock hanging on your back porch and padded your way into your kitchen to get a drink. The silence was overwhelming while you poured yourself a glass of orange juice.

You retired to your room and climbed into your cold, empty bed. You hated the silence. You missed Sam’s voice as he talked on and on about something that excited him.

You read and reread the letter he wrote you in the hospital. It was short but it was enough to make you miss him every time.

I'm sorry. No one's ever done anything like that for me and I feel horrible. Please get better. I'll make you pancakes like I promised long ago.

I love you,

Sam

The landline phone caught your attention. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear his voice just for a bit.

You hastily got up and walked to the phone, mind racing as you picked up the receiver. You assured yourself it was fine and that Sam never had a caller ID.

Here goes, you held your breath as you dialed his number, dreading the ringing tones.

It kept ringing and you were scared it'll go to voicemail, but after a while, Sam finally picked up.

“Yeah?” He was out of breath.

Just that one word made your heart leap. You opened your mouth to say something when you heard someone in the background.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” a woman said in a sultry voice. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” Sam called out. “Hello? Hello?”

You hung up. That was a terrible idea.

Irene was overjoyed to see Sam, peppering his face in kisses.

“Oh, you've grown so tall!” She joked. “It's so nice to see you, Sam.”

“You know I can't stay away from my favourite weed lady,” he chuckled.

“Are you staying long?”

“Nah, just dropping by to say ‘hi’.”

“Well ‘hi’ to you too,” she smiled.

She gave him a pan of banana bread (and some weed) before he left, asking if he ever got to see you. He wished he did.

You lay on the floor of your living room, music blasting on the stereo as you had a pity party. You had to end things with Stephen as the guilt was becoming too much for you to bear.

You had put the ring back on, staring at it as you held your hand up. You needed a drink.

The fluorescent lights of the store were a little too bright for you and you trudged to the fridge, ignoring the guy manning the cashier.

“You look like shit again,” he remarked.

“‘Kay, thanks for the input, Troy,” you muttered. Asshole.

You grabbed a few bottles of beer, hugging them to your chest. Just another Friday night.

“Sorry, I need a pack of cigarettes… Or two,” you heard a familiar voice. You peeked behind a shelf of condoms.

It was Sam. What the hell is he doing in LA and in this particular store too?

Fuck. You began to panic, glancing down at yourself. The grey sweatpants and your stained DIY shirt you painted years ago wasn’t the most flattering outfit and it didn't help that your hair was a mess.

You wanted him to just go, but through your panicked state, you dropped one of the bottles in your arms, catching Sam’s attention.

“Y/N?” He looked at you curiously.

“Heyy, Sam,” you sheepishly stepped away from the mess on the floor.

“Clean up on aisle two,” Troy mumbled, grabbing the broom and a mop.

“Sorry, I'll pay for that,” you tiptoed past him.

“No, I'll pay for it,” Sam looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Your heart leaped when you met his gentle eyes. “That's a lot of bottles.”

“TGIF, right?” You awkwardly laughed. Idiot.

“Can't argue with that,” Sam smiled.

Troy totalled up yours and Sam’s purchases after a lot of whining. Sam helped you carry your bottles of beer.

“Where ya heading?” He asked.

“Home. It's not too far from here.”

“Come on, I'll give you a lift,” he nudged you.

“No, it's fine,” you shook your head.

“You don't wanna see my snazzy new tiny home?”

“Tiny home,” you chuckled. “Yeah, sure I'd love to see it.”

Sam had a nice little RV with his motorcycle secured on it. It wasn't too fancy inside; his books were neatly organised on a small shelf by the sofa/dining area, the plants you left him on a box by the window, and a large bed in the back with just a curtain for privacy.

“Wow,” you looked around. “What made you wanna get an RV?”

“Eh, just wanted to be able to move around easier,” he shrugged as he sat in the driver's seat. “It's not permanent, but it's been alright so far.”

You took the seat next to him, fastening your seatbelt.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“Its just a few blocks away. Go west.”

It was supposed to be a short drive, but it felt longer to you. You didn't know what to say and neither did Sam, just Spandau Ballet softly playing on the radio filling in the silence.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat. “LA… Why? You planning on being in Hollywood?”

You shrugged. “I've always lived in smaller towns, I thought a bigger city might be an experience.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Do you like it?”

“It's been alright,” you shrugged again. “I haven't gotten around to exploring as much. Oh, it's just here.”

You pointed at the one-story Spanish revival house you've been staying in. Sam parked in front and you picked up your paper bag, heavy with the bottles.

“Let me help you with that,” Sam reached out, his hand touching your arm. It was enough to make you feel hot all over.

He locked eyes with you and for a moment, you thought he was leaning in to kiss you. You instinctively closed your eyes, waiting, but nothing happened.

When you opened your eyes, Sam was holding the paper bag and walking towards the door.

Oh, you were disappointed. What was I expecting?

He walked you to the door, his eyes on you the entire time.

“I missed you,” he said, making your heart leap again.

“Sam,” you looked up at him as you reached your door.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I just… Couldn't get you out of my mind in months, I had to say it.”

“I missed you too,” you softly said.

This time, you felt his lips on yours, and you instinctively kissed him back. There were butterflies in your stomach, but the moment didn't last.

Sam stepped back, his face a little flushed. You felt your cheeks heat up as well.

He held out the paper bag to you. “Um, good night.”

“Good night…” You whispered as he turned to go back to his RV. “Sam, wait–”

He looked back, and you walked towards him.

“You can park in my driveway for the night… Or however long you're going to stay here.”

“I don't want to be a burden–”

“What? Sam, it's me. I…” You bit your lip. “I want you here. Maybe we can hang out.”

“Okay,” he smiled.

You took a deep breath as you closed your door behind you, your heart still racing. Sam kissed you and for the first time in months, you felt… Happy?

You placed the bottles in your fridge, no longer interested in drinking them, then changed into cleaner clothes for bed. You peeked out your window and saw the lights were still on in his RV.

You wanted to go to him, to kiss him more, to hold him again, but you thought of Stephen. True, he wasn't your boyfriend officially, but he trusted you. But still…

You found yourself in front of Sam’s door, and as you were about to knock, Sam opened the door.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

You stood, staring at each other as if you both couldn't believe it. Sam pulled you into his arms, and you kissed him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you in, closing the door behind him with his foot.

He sat you on the table, his hands sliding down to your ass.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his lips moving down to your neck.

You sighed as he left cool kisses on the hot skin of your neck. He pulled you close and you wrapped your legs around his waist again.

“Sam,” you whispered as he began lifting your shirt.

“What–what is it?” He rested his forehead on yours.

“Should we be doing this?” You asked, trailing your finger down his chest.

Sam kissed you. “I don't know, but it feels so right.”

Your shirt and your shorts were discarded somewhere around his RV and Sam had your legs over his shoulders as he kneeled in front of the table. He gave your clit a few licks, his eyes on yours the entire time.

“God, I missed this view,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What, your new boyfriend doesn't eat you out?” He gave you a smug smirk.

“He’s not my boyf–”

Sam continued licking your clit, closing his eyes as he pushed his face further against your pussy. It was getting too much for you and you tugged at his hair.

“More, Sam, more,” you moaned.

You felt him smile against you as he began sucking on your clit softly, switching between sucking and licking. You bucked your hips against him but he held you down.

Sam gave a satisfied hum as you came, your thighs squeezing his head.

“How was that?” He stood up, leaning over you on the table. It was then you noticed that he was still fully dressed, but the tent in his grey sweatpants was hard to ignore.

“I think I've been missing out on Samuel Drake,” you chuckled.

He pulled you up and carried you to the bed bridal style.

“Wait, Sam,” you sat up as he climbed over you.

“What?”

“I've been having sex.”

He blinked at you. “So?”

“And you have too, I assume?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “So?”

You pushed him away. “So put a condom on.”

Sam gave you an amused smile. “You know you're the only person I've never had safe sex with.”

“Good to know,” you stuck your tongue out. “But put one on.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, standing up.

Sam held the condom up before climbing on top of you to kiss you. “Happy?”

You took off his shirt and he climbed out of his sweatpants, cock glistening with precum. It was enough to get you wet.

He ripped the condom packet open and slipped it on with ease. Sam gave you soft, sweet kisses as he began pushing inside you.

You both gasped at the sensation, Sam had his lip pinned between his teeth as he pushed deep inside you. He began to thrust slowly and gently cupping your cheek.

“Harder,” you whispered, desperate for more.

Sam groaned as he began pounding into you, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts. He kissed you hard as he collapsed on top of you, rolling over so you were on top of him.

“I wanna see you,” he said, moving your hips against his. “I wanna see you fucking me.”

You placed your hands against the headboard, bouncing on his cock. You moaned out his name loudly; something you've been wanting to do for months. It felt so good to finally have him under you and all you wanted was to make him feel good, to make up for all the lost time.

Sam pulled you in to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I missed you too,” you sighed between kisses.

“I forgot how good you feel,” he kissed your neck.

His hands slid down to your ass, spreading then as he rammed his hips up against yours. You grabbed at the pillow at his head, crying out loud. His finger dipped into your asshole and you moaned out.

The dual sensation was enough to make you cum, and Sam wasn’t far behind. He kissed you hard as he came, holding you close.

You were breathless as you rolled off him and he took the condom off, dunking it into the trash.

The bed dipped as he climbed back in, lying on his back next to you.

“Wanna see something cool?” Sam smiled.

He pressed a button and the rather large sunroof opened up, letting in more of the moonlight and the dim streetlights.

“Oh, that is cool,” you grinned. “Why didn't you show me before we fucked?”

“I don't think your neighbours would be too happy seeing us fornicate if they happened to look out the window.”

“You think they can really see us?”

Sam shrugged, putting an arm under his head and stared up at the sky with you.

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” You asked.

“Are you gonna give me the Grand Los Angeles tour?”

“Honestly, I haven't even toured it myself,” you sheepishly said. “It hasn't really felt like home.”

“Well,” Sam looked up in thought. “Maybe we can start with Santa Monica? I believe it isn't too far from here.”

“Okay,” you took his hand in yours.