#but I’m still like oh shit cos she’s already lost weight

[drathe]

Man, cat is ill again, I’m freaking out cos idk if it’s the medication side effect or what, vet is not available NEVER AGAIN I SWEAR I WILL NOT GET A CAT AGAIN FROM THIS DAY ON IM GONNA BREED STICK BUGS

[doubleleoenergy]

ii. Dark Times, The Princess and the Pogue Series

Waking up, half past five, blood on pillow and one bruised eye. Drunk too much, you know what I'm like, but you should've seen the other guy.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, slight mention of blood, mentions of bruises, swearing

Summary: The events at the Boneyard leave JJ with visible evidence of what took place. Thankfully, JJ’s met with a friendly face.

Words: 2445

JJ is startled awake by his alarm clock beeping over and over, groaning as he slammed his fist on the snooze button.

5:30 A.M.

“Fuck.” He cursed, burying his body under the thick comforter. It was the first day of his senior year and he felt like shit. JJ had gotten back to John B’s place a little after midnight and the pair had passed out immediately in their beds.

The alarm went off again, JJ rolling out of bed and unplugging the alarm all together in frustration. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his palms against his bare thighs. The events of last night ran through his head, still slightly hungover and his eye throbbing from where Kelce sucker punched him. His eyes travel to his pillow, dried remnants of blood from the cut on his forehead. He should probably take a shower and at least attempt to clean up and look semi-decent for the first day.

JJ grabbed his towel off the floor, opening the bedroom door and heading into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his expression in the mirror, touching the skin that was freshly purpled under his eye. JJ turned the handle of the shower to the hottest setting, letting the water warm up as he shrugged out of his boxer-briefs and stepped in.

The water seeped into his skin, relaxing his muscles and clearing his thoughts for the moment. He normally was the guy to start fights just because he could, or come to the defense of his friends, and it felt different for someone to view him as the good guy for once. Someone like y/n, who knew nothing about him or his past.

He washed his body of the blood, dirt, and sweat from the night before, standing under the water until it ran cold. Finally, he turned off the water, wrapped his lower half in his towel, shaking his blonde locks as he left the bathroom.

“Hey, man.” John B stated, sitting back against the couch, his fingers typing up a message to the gang on when he’d leave to pick them all up for school. John B finally looked up at JJ, squinting his eyes, his face full of pity. “He socked you pretty good last night, JJ.”

JJ scoffed, grabbing a bowl for cereal and pouring the contents in, grabbing the half-used milk from the fridge and filling up the bowl.

“You should see the other guy.” He retorted, a big grin on his face as he stuffed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Who was she anyhow?” John B questioned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Y/N? Said she just moved back here from Montana. Used to live here when she was little.” He shrugged nonchalantly, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

“She seemed into you, JJ.”

“Nah, man. She was just thanking me for beating the shit outta Kelce.” JJ claimed, tossing his finished bowl into the sink.

“Whatever, man. The way you’re acting shows me you might be into her too.” John B stood up, walking towards the bathroom to shower before they had to leave.

“We don’t even know if she’s a Kook or not!” He called out, hearing the door shut and the shower start. JJ walked towards his room, peeking his head outside the door. “By the way, there’s no hot water.”

“Fuck you JJ!”

The Pogues pushed through the front doors of Kildare County High School, mingling with the other students as they walked down the hallway towards their lockers.

“JJ, starting the semester off right with that shiner.” Kiara teased, earning a middle-fingered salute from JJ.

“Not funny, Kie.” He called out walking backwards down the hall until he turned, knocking into the person in front of him, sending their backpacks, and bodies, flying into the white vinyl tile floor.

“Fuck!” Y/N cursed, rolling herself off her back and scrambling to get up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying…” JJ trailed off as he got to his feet, remembering her features immediately. “…attention. Shit, y/n, I’m sorry.” JJ held out his hand to help her up, pulling her to her feet as she grabbed her phone and backpack off the floor.

“Hey, JJ. It’s all good.” Y/N mumbled, smoothing out her dress. JJ thought she looked beautiful, her body clothed in a forest green dress with tiny white flowers, a black belt pulled tight to cinch it in at the waist. Her feet were covered in a pair of plain white sneakers, a few scuff marks on the sides to show that they were worn in.

“Oh, I brought this in case I ran into you. Not that I meant to physically run into you like this.” He dug his hand into the back pocket of his cargo shorts, pulling out the bandana from the night before. “Sorry, I didn't have time to wash it.” JJ dropped the bandana into her hand, locking eyes with y/n. She couldn’t help but get lost in her train of thought, his ocean blue eyes distracting her.

Y/N pulled herself back to reality, a bright blush spreading on her cheeks as she stuffed the bandana in her backpack. “Uh, thanks. Your eye looks…well, like shit.” She announced, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. Nice response, y/n. JJ noticed how flustered she was, a different side of her than the confidence she exuded the night prior.

“It’s nothing.” Just as he spoke Topper and Kelce descended the hallway, Kelce glaring straight at the two. He looked rough, a few cuts along his face and a line of bruises covering the right side of his face from his temple down to his cheek. Kelce gritted his teeth as he passed, JJ grinning from ear to ear as he gestured towards the man. “He definitely looks like shit though.” JJ proudly stated, y/n turning her head to look at the damage JJ had done.

“I really wish you’d let me repay you for last night.” Y/N insisted, shifting her weight as she stood.

“It’s no big deal, really.” JJ leaned his back against a set of lockers, raising an eyebrow at the woman. “So, what’s your class schedule?”

Y/N huffed, pulling a folded piece of paper from her backpack and opening it up, furrowing her brows as she looked at the information. “Uh, I don’t really know if these are good or bad but…here.” She handed him the sheet of paper, hoping he may be able to give her some guidance.

JJ did a once over of the contents before handing it back to her. “Well, it looks like we have the same first class. Mr. Sunn is a good guy, and a great teacher. I’ll walk with you there, if you’d like.”

Y/N nodded her head, pulling her backpack higher up on her shoulder. “Lead the way.”

The last bell of the school day rang, dismissing the students from their classes, a rush of teenagers flooding the hallways. Y/N had shared two classes of her day with JJ, her first and third periods, and it was nice to know someone on the first day.

She had gotten the same questions: what’s your name, where are you from, why are you here, are you a Kook or a Pogue? The last question was mainly asked by classmates, and frankly, she didn’t know what it meant. JJ was called a Pogue the night before, it seemed as though it had been a slur that night.

Y/N walked silently out the front doors of the school, getting ready for the two mile walk home when she heard someone calling her name in the distance. She turned around, a smile lighting up her face as she saw who it was.

“Hey, how were the rest of your classes?” JJ asked when he caught up to her, pulling his backpack up with his left hand. 

“They were fine, thanks for helping me figure out where they were earlier.” She admitted, walking down towards the front sidewalk.

“Anytime. So uh, where are you headed?” JJ slowed his pace to keep in step with her, looking down at the woman.

“I was about to walk home actually.” Y/N stated, fiddling with the strap on her backpack.

“Walk home? Why don’t you hitch a ride with us, John B won’t mind at all. Plus, I’d love for you to meet the gang.” JJ stepped in front of y/n’s path before she could protest, looking at her with reassurance. “C’mon, you’ll love them.”

Y/N huffed, nodding in agreement before JJ directed her over to where John B had parked his van. The rest of the Pogues were already inside, John B sitting in front with Sarah in the passenger seat, Kiara and Pope waiting in the back of the van, the door slid open.

“Hey guys, I’d like you to meet y/n, thought we could give her a ride home.” JJ announced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “She’s the reason I look like shit today.” He teased, causing y/n to shove him just enough to make him sway.

“Damn, y/n, you’re already not taking JJ’s shit. You’ll fit right in.” Kiara commented, jumping from the back of the van and giving a small wave. “I’m Kiara, this is Pope, John B, and Sarah.” She pointed to each one of them.

“Nice to meet you guys.” Y/N smiled sweetly at them before JJ guided her into the back seat of the van, closing the door behind them. Y/N moved to sit on the plush leather seats, JJ squeezing in next to her, their legs pressed against each other. Her eyes focused on JJ’s thigh pressed against her own, her heart beating loudly in her chest, the roar of the engine coming to life pulling her from her thoughts.

“Where to?” John B asked, backing out of his spot in the parking lot and heading towards the main road. 

“Two miles down make a left on Sycamore lane. It’s the third house on the left.” Y/N instructed, pushing down the cuticles on her fingers, a telltale sign of her nervousness. The radio played lightly in the background as they drove, John B and Sarah talking about their late-night plans.

“So, y/n, you just moved here?” Kiara questioned, shifting in the spot next to her on the seat.

Y/N nodded her head, still picking at her cuticles. “Yeah, I used to live here when I was little, but I don’t remember it.” 

JJ turned his head towards her, his knee knocking against hers as they sat close together. He could smell her citrus body wash filling his nostrils. “You live with your parents?”

The question made her stomach turn sour, trying to remain as emotionless as possible. “I live with my older sister, Bailey.” JJ could tell there was some pain in her voice, and he didn’t want to pry, leaving it at that.

“Well, you’re welcome in the Pogue life anytime.” Pope added, leaning his head against the van window.

“Right...thanks Pope. I kept getting asked today if I was a Pogue or a Kook at school. Care to explain?” She asked, tilting her head to look up at JJ.

“Alright, so we’re all Pogues...well, Sarah was a Kook but now she’s just as shit as the rest of us.” He teased, receiving a glare from the blonde woman. “So as Pogues we are basically the bottom feeders of society. We live in the cut, are regular working-class people, you know, that shit. But we’re obviously much cooler than the rest of the people on the island. Then there’s the Kooks: they live in the figure 8, are the upper-class of the island, us Pogues work for the Kooks most of the time. They think they’re the cream of the crop, but as you know from meeting Kelce, they’re the shittiest people you’ll ever meet. So, are you a Pogue or a Kook?”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, shrugging her shoulders in response. “I guess I’m like you guys, if that’s okay. I mean, my sister’s an emergency room nurse at the hospital so she makes decent money but it’s...it’s just us.” Her voice was soft, looking down at her hands. Kiara threw her arm around y/n’s shoulders, a proud smile on her face.

“You’re definitely a Pogue, especially after the way you talked to Kelce last night. JJ told us all about it during lunch.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of JJ talking about her. Maybe he was just bragging about the fight, it didn’t mean anything, right?

The van pulled to a stop in front of y/n’s house, a one-story bungalow-style with a bright yellow front door. JJ opened the door of the van, hopping out and offering his hand out to y/n, helping her to her feet on the sidewalk.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, trying to hide the crimson blush on her cheeks. JJ saw it though, resting his arm against the frame of the van, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“No problem.” 

John B rolled the passenger window down, giving y/n a small wave. “If you’re not busy Thursday after school we’re going fishing, we’d love for you to join.” The gang shook their heads in agreement, y/n meeting JJ’s blue hues as he nodded as well.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks again for the ride.” She gave one last wave before walking up the steps to her front porch, fumbling with the keys before unlocking the door and pushing inside, the van taking off down the street.

“Bailey, I’m home!” Y/N cried out, dropping her backpack by the front door and kicking off her shoes. Her sister appeared around the corner, clad in her scrubs from work.

“How was the first day?” She asked, going to the fridge and pulling out a beer, popping off the cap and taking a swig.

Y/N plopped down on the couch, a smile spreading across her features. “It was actually great. My new friends want to take me out fishing Thursday night, is that okay?” She asked, turning her head towards her sister who was finishing up a pot of hamburger helper on the stove.

“Yeah sure, I’ll be working a double, so you’ll be on your own that night. I’m glad you’re making friends; I promise you’ll love it here. I did when I was little. And mom would be happy that we’re back here too. She never really wanted to leave, there were just…too many bad memories.” She turned off the heat and moved the pot off the burner.

“Now come set the table, dinner’s ready.”

Tagging those who may be interested or who may boost this. Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @sokovianheadtilt, @bucksmotel, @blackwiddows, @fuckandfluff, @agentofbarnes​, @astrydis​, @moniamaybank​, @matbarzalschain​, @bigassnocash​

[samingtonwilson]

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy. 

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this. 

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese. 

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make. 

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space. 

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket. 

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you. 

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”  

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey. 

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp. 

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet. 

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him. 

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile. 

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s. 

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure. 

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese. 

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones. 

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.” 

“Who says I haven’t already?” 

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you. 

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.” 

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer. 

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

[jessikahathaway]

Vegas, Baby - Part I

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Romance, Smut (Slow Burn)

Warnings: Explicit Language.

Summary: After four years, you have been let go from your job. Taking a chance you head to Vegas to make the best of a bad situation. A situation that only gets worse.

“Sorry Miss Y/N, but we are going to have to let you go,” your boss’ monotone voice echoed in your ears. 

Four years of your life, wasted. Not that you particularly enjoyed the job, but it paid your bills. And that was what counted at the end of the day. Now, what were you going to do? Your parents had already said your room was still yours if you needed to move back in. It was sweet of them really, but you didn’t want to move back in with them, you wanted your freedom and you wanted to be on your own. But what other options did you have without losing everything? 

“Your separation pay will come through at the end of the week,” your ears perked up. The separation pay would be a nice amount no doubt. This financial firm didn’t come without its perks. 

“Very good, sir. Thank you for four years,” you said, trying not to let the bitter tone enter into your voice. 

“You can show yourself out. See that your desk is cleaned out by the end of the shift,” he said, turning his back to you.

Quickly you let yourself out, heading toward your desk. 

“So, what did dickhead want?” Namjoon, your table mate, asked.

“I got canned,” you whispered, gathering up your stuff.

“What? No way, let me go in there,” he said, preparing to stand up before you stopped him.

“Joon, honestly, it’s fine. I’ve wanted to quit for a while anyways,” you confess.

“But, Y/N, it’s bullshit that they fire you. If that bimbo in the receptionist office can keep her job, you can too,” he said, fuming.

“Joon, seriously, I’m fine. Do you see me crying over it?” You asked, smiling.

“You’re sure you’re good?”

“I’m positive,” you answered.

“Okay, if you say so,” he responded.

“Just let me get my shit and blow this popsicle stand,” you said, grinning at him.

“Whatever you say, Y/N, I’ll miss you here,” he said, sitting back in his seat.

“You’re acting like you don’t have my number or something,” you said, laughing lightly.

“It won’t be the same without you here to annoy,” he said, giving you a dimpled smile.

“I know, you like to do that a lot,” you remarked, throwing a good natured glare his way.

“Well, I’m good at what I do then,” Namjoon stated.

“Which should be working, don’t need you following me out the door,” you said, sighing as you collected the remainder of your important items.

The rest could be left here, consider it a gift to the next unfortunate person who has to work here.

“Hey, text me okay?” He said, giving you a little wave.

“Will do, see ya Joon,” you said, returning the wave before heading towards the door.

—

Two weeks later you found yourself on a plane heading to Las Vegas.

How did you find yourself here? Well, it was a rather impulsive decision. But you and Namjoon had decided to take the rest of your earnings from your job and make a vacation out of it. You were taking a week in the US and spending time in Vegas to get a little wind in your sails before moving back in with your parents. 

Did that take what little wind you had in your sails out? Maybe, but that's besides the point. This was your way of giving the middle finger to your old job by blowing your money on something less than recommended. 

A trip to Vegas was exactly your soul needed after four years of behaving like a good little desk minion. Years of filing and coffee runs, all going to be blown to smithereens. Thank God for that too. You didn’t want to spend another minute thinking about what had been, only what was going to be the best week of your life. 

You had a couple friends that lived in the states, and you were going to meet up with them after landing and unpacking at your hotel. Jessi and Lily were waiting anxiously for you to arrive. 

Jessi: Bitch, I can’t believe you’re actually coming. After all these years of begging, pleading and what not, you’re dumbass comes here on a whim. But, still excited to see youuu xoxoxo.

YOU: R00D. I was working and busy with trying to further my career that capped off at a measly management position. Where the hell were you m8?

LILBITCH: Okay, it is like midnight here so can yall quit your yapping and do the sleep sleep? K thnx.

YOU: Sorry Lily, Jessi decided to be a boob in the group chat. Rest young one.

Jessi: ExCuSE? I Did NO SucH thInG?!?

YOU: You did! And are still doing it!

LILBITCH: Can yall argue in a separate thread plz?

Jessi: Nah, bugging you is wayyyy more entertaining.

LILBITCH: I pick the worst friends. Consider yourself disowned.

YOU: Children children, I come to bring peace to all four nations.

Jessi: The only thing you bring peace to is a party, and that’s what we’re going to fix while you’re here. You are going to get wasted and you are gonna like iiitttt >:(

LILBITCH: Jessi what are you even doing up?

Jessi: Sleep is for the weak.

LILBITCH: No, it’s for people. You know, who aren’t fucked in the head??

YOU: We gonna ignore the fact that she practically said I don’t know how to party?

Jessi: I am perfectly sane!

LILBITCH: Yeah right....

YOU: So we are ignoring that deep insult? K great. 

Jessi: Sorry Y/N, it’s just been so long since we’ve all been together like this I’m so excited. I’m gonna put you in my man stealing clothes and you’re gonna get dicked down while you’re here! Yasssss, I love my plan already.

YOU: THERE IS A CHILD IN HERE!

LILBITCH: Woman we’re both older than you. You’re the child. Who doesn’t know how to party apparently. 

YOU: And here I was thinking you loved me Lily. This hurts. This hurts deep.

Jessi: So, slutty clothes shopping here we come???

LILBITCH: I read the word shopping and I’m so down.

Jessi: yAS

YOU: Some of my dearest friends. Insult me then demand to dress me like a blowup doll? WTF??

Jessi: Not a blow up doll! Is there a tamer version of those Lily?

LILBITCH: I mean not really.

Jessi: You’ll be the sexiest blow up doll out there!

YOU: I don’t like this.

“Ladies and gentlemen we are beginning our ascent. Please silent all devices and buckle up! Thank you for choosing Korean Airways! Enjoy your flight!”

YOU: Well you two can think of more diabolical ways to get me laid and I will be none the wiser. See you girls soon. Love ya! <3

You shut your phone off and let your head rest against the cushioned seat. Letting the rumble of the cabin lull you to sleep.

--

“Y/N!!!!” Jessi squealed as she came running for you. 

You’d slept most of the plane ride, but now you were stiff in the joints and her frame colliding with your own sent the two of you tumbling. 

“Oof, Jess! What the hell man, you’re gonna break me,” you whined as the older woman started squeezing the daylights out of you. 

“Alright pda couple break it up,” Lily’s voice filled your ears. 

You stood quickly and brought her into a hug too. 

“It’s good to see you,” you whispered, rubbing her back as you separated.

“Good to see you too, have you lost weight?” she asked, making you spin around for confirmation.

“Maybe maybe not, I wasn’t exactly eating the healthiest diet when I was at the firm so, maybe I just gained it in different places,” you laughed. 

There was a prickle on the back of your neck. Your guard went up and you looked around. But didn’t see anyone staring. Although, you were uncomfortable.

“Come on, let’s get going. We have a lot to do before tonight!” Jessi said, practically dragging you out of the terminal.

“Jesus Jessi I have ligaments and bones, those things can break you know!” you whined, but she didn’t relent. 

Climbing into the car you still felt a chill of fear run up your spine. But didn’t let it bother you. Right now was about you and your friends, not being a little paranoid after a long flight. Plus, you were abroad, there were tons of people around and that was more than likely throwing your radar off a little bit. 

“Okay, mall here we come!” Lily said with excitement in her voice. 

“But what about heading to the hotel to unpack?” you asked. 

“Oh, we cancelled your reservation. Did you know you saved almost a thousand bucks if you stay with me?” Jessi said.

“Huh? What do you mean? Guys I don’t wanna burden you!” 

“You aren’t going to be, our most recent roommate has vacated the room and left it in perfect condition. It can be yours if you decide you wanna stay for a while?” Lily suggested with a brow wiggle.

“You two are impossible,” you complained, leaning your head against the window.

“Impossibly smart,” Jessi narked. 

You sighed as you watched the cityscape pass you by. Jessi and Lily chatted about nothing it seemed like, but it was comforting that you all fell back into rhythm so quickly after so long of not seeing one another. It made your heart squeeze painfully at the thought of being apart. But you were here now, and that’s what mattered. 

Lily was telling you all about her work at the little cafe she co-owns. She handles the customer service end while her partner handles the more... businessy aspect. 

“And then one of my servers swears she saw a ghost of an old lady in the back room. The building used to be a house but now we have renovated it and turned it into the cafe like I’ve told you. But, I looked into it. And a lady did actually die in there in the fifties. How fucking crazy is that!? And, get this, if it hadn’t happened within the last ten years, the realtors don’t have to divulge that information. How fucked,” Lily sighs. 

Jessi pulls into the parking lot of a large shopping center and you girls all get out, wallets at the ready. 

Linking arms with them you smiled brightly and started walking towards the door. 

About an hour later, your feet were killing you and you hadn’t even tried anything on, much to the dismay of your friends. 

“Come on Y/N, you need to at least try one thing on in this next shop,” Jessi pleaded. 

“Why? I packed clothes you know?” you said, 

“And knowing you they won’t be attention getting enough,” Lily commented.

“Rude, you don’t know what I got,” you scoffed. 

Lily rolled her eyes and picked you up off the comfortable bench you had settled down on and now you were being dragged off of it like a leech of an arm. 

“Come on Y/N, I have the perfect place in mind,” Jessi announced, leading the pack towards another stylish little boutique. 

“If I try something on will you guys quit pestering me?” you whined out. 

“Maybe, depends on if we like it or not,” Lily’s voice rang in your ear. 

Somewhere, deep down, you knew letting them drag you to a shopping mall was a bad idea. But you hadn’t realized how bad until they had you dressed to the gills in sequins, sparkles and everything glittery. 

“Guys this stuff is itchy!” you said, itching your thigh, that was barely covered, for emphasis. 

“Oh come on, Y/N, you look great! It really shows off those curves!” Jessi complimented, spinning you around.

“I brought the same style of dress, but in a popping red color. It will compliment her eyes for certain,” the lovely assistant of the boutique said. Of course they were trained to reach for the priciest piece they had, and tell you it would look good on you. But hey, A for effort. 

“Oooh! Y/N, try it on, try it on!” Jessi yelled. 

“Shh, we are in a store!” you scolded. 

“God you’re worse than my mom,” Jessi rolled her eyes.

“Am not. I’m just trying to contain my two four year olds!” you said exasperated.

“As the youngest isn’t it your responsibility to be rambunctious. Getting into all kinds of trouble?” 

“That’s what we’re here for Lily, she’s had a stick up her ass for too long called adulting,” Jessi teased.

“Remind me why I’m friends with you again?” you asked, teasing right back.

Jessi just laughed and went to go peruse the racks again. Lily snuggled up beside you and wrapped her arms around you tightly. 

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Smiling you gave her a tight hug. “I missed you guys too.”

Jessi came back with a sexy white number that has cut off sleeves that draped off your shoulder elegantly and it was a little longer than the others they’d thrown you in during that afternoon.

Seeing your eyes looking at the dress with interest, Jessi knew she had won. 

 “Wanna know the best part?” Jessi asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow in your direction.

“What?” you asked. 

“It was on the sale rack!” she smirked. 

“Okay give it here,” you said, holding your hand out. Jessi smiled and plopped the dress in your hand without hesitation. 

You shuffled into the dressing room and pulled the garment on. You looked at yourself in the mirror and almost fell over. This wasn’t you. The girl looking back at you was a beautiful woman, someone with poise and elegance. Or was that what the dress conveyed? Because you felt almost empowered in this dress...

“Okay, show us what you got!” the girls said, waiting for you outside the dressing room.

Stepping down onto the floor the girls were silent. 

“Well?” you asked, feeling a little self conscious at all their staring. 

“Y/N, if you don’t buy that dress then I will and force you into it tonight,” Jessi said, still staring.

“Does it look alright?’ you asked, tugging at the fabric.

“Yes now quit fidgeting! We’re trying to figure out what shoes, make up and hair we need to do,” Lily said, settling your hands at your side. 

“I think a red pump,” Jessi said, running off to one side of the store.

“And a red lip to match!” Lily echoed. 

“I love the way you think,” Jessi said back.

You looked down at your bare feet on the floor and sighed. 

“I don’t know, should we go clubbing tonight? I just got here and kinda want to-”

“Not bail out on us and have the fun you wanted to have by coming to Vegas?” Lily offered. 

You sighed and rubbed your face. Jessi came back with a crimson red pair of heels that already made your feet hurt. But you decided to quiet down and just enjoy the time you had with your friends. It was so nice to bicker with them and laugh, it really made your heart soar to be here with them. Even if they were forcing you into some uncomfortable shoes. At their cores, they were great girls, and you were so lucky to have them in your life. 

“There, see how it lengthens your legs?” Jessi pointed out. 

“See how it will destroy my ankles?” you said back.

They just laughed and you guys took everything to the checkout counter. The clerk cashed you out and you ladies were on your way. 

“I’m so glad you bought the shoes too! They look so killer with that dress, and we’re going to make you the prettiest thing at the club tonight! Not that you need much help,” Lily smirked, linking her arms with yours.

You shoved her a little but walked down the hall with her happily.

Until you felt that chill that had run down your spine earlier, reappear. You stopped in your tracks and turned, certain that someone was watching you. But no one was there... It made unease churn in your stomach. Jessi seemed to notice your hesitation and came over beside you. 

“Something wrong?” she asked, trying to look in a similar direction as you.

“No no, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” you smiled weakly, going to move forward.

“If you’re sure,” Lily answered, following close behind.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

After that you only went to one more department store and found nothing of interest, so you guys decided to call it. Walking back to the car, Jessi ran ahead to make sure that it was unlocked. Lily and you walked at an even pace, just enjoying each other's company.

Loading everything into the car you took off down the road for Jessi and Lily’s house.

Slowly, the sensation of being watched faded from your mind. And the three of you went back to your bickering and teasing. 

Finally, you pulled into the driveway. 

Jessi and Lily were quick to help you with your luggage, making sure everything got into the spare bedroom. And then, the work began. 

“Babe, we love you, but you gotta take a shower,” Jessi said, pinching her nose for effect.

“Rude, I literally took a shower before I boarded the plane,” you told them.

“Yeah, and you smell like plane and food court, so go. Cleanse thyself,” Lily commented, looking at her phone.

“Fine fine,” you agreed, heading towards the bathroom. 

Jessi handed you the dress and some undergarments and went into the kitchen. 

The hot water felt heavenly on your body, washing off the grim of travel and shopping. It was nice. The foamy soap on your head invigorating you. You shaved every part of your body known to man, and woman to be honest. 

But when you stepped out of the shower. Instead of the normal underwear you had picked out, was something else. 

Sorry, but we had to burn those granny panties. Wear this instead! We bought them today while you were busy being one with the bench. We know they’ll fit you!

Jessi & Lily

“Those little shits!” you exclaimed, looking down in despair at your underwear option now. 

Pink lacy panties were set on the bathroom counter. How did you not even hear them come in!? You looked at the bra and were certain that you’d be able to see a nipple through the lace that was supposed to be covering your shit. But apparently the quest to get you laid was a serious endeavor in their minds. So, to humor them, you put on the garments. That, in fact, fit perfectly.

“Those creeps,” you shuddered, wondering how your friends had known your exact size.

Pulling on the dress you bought earlier, you marveled at yourself in the mirror. You looked really good. And just as before, you felt as if you could conquer the world, in just this dress. But, you knew the only thing you’d conquer was maybe a bar scene, which would work. For now.

Walking out you found the nasty culprits of the underwear heist sitting around a vanity full of makeup.

“Wanna tell me why I’m wearing underwear that barely covers anything?” you said, venom in your tone.

“Because you put it on,” Jessi said, with a smirk.

“You guys are so fucking nosy,” you whined, throwing your headback in a mock tantrum.

“We aren’t nosy enough, when was the last time you got dicked down?” Jessi asked, suddenly serious.

Scandalized you made a squeak of discomfort. 

“Wh-Why the sudden curiosity??” you asked.

“Because, we gotta know how out of practice you are,” Lily said, as if it were obvious.

“I’m not out of practice!” you shrieked. 

“So it was recently then?” Jessi smiled. 

“No! I mean-shut up!” you cried.

“When was the last time Y/N,” Lily said calmly.

“Three years ago,” you huffed, crossing your arms in defense.

The two girls almost choked. 

“THREE YEARS!?” Jessi screamed.

“I’m right here, there’s no need to scream,” you said.

“BUT Y/N, THAT’S THREE YEARS,” Jessi yelled again.

“I can tell time, Jessi,” you commented.

“How? You’re practically a nun,” Lily snorted.

“I am not!” you defended.

“Sweetheart, listen we are doing this out of love,” Jessi shushed you, cradling you to her chest. “We will help you. Sit down.”

“This is all very offensive, just so ya’ll know,” you said, pointing to them with an accusing finger.

“Shut up and sit down,” Lily said, grabbing her hair appliances. 

You settled into silence, letting the girls do whatever they wanted to you. You found it was easier this way than fighting with them the whole time. As much as you loved them, these girls were bossy and pushy. But, you wouldn’t have them any other way. They helped even you out, making sure you got out there and did have some fun in your life. 

Lily was in the process of doing your hair and styling it the way she thought would work the best, while Jessi was deeply focused on doing your makeup. You saw the crimson colored lipstick come out and knew it was as Lily recommended earlier.

Jessi painted it on your lips with a precision that was awe inspiring. You just stayed still and let them continue their work. Enjoying the transformation happening before your eyes. Before, you were a nervous little office worker. Now, you were a girl on a mission. What mission was still to be decided, but it made you feel powerful. Not saying that you didn’t feel powerful without it, but it was nice to get dressed up every once in a while and to feel sexy. 

Lily put down the hair products and smiled at her work. 

“You look fucking hot,” she pointed out. 

“Don’t make her smile. I'm working on the concealer around her lips,” Jessi whined.

“Sorry sorry, just, she’s really beautiful,” Lily smiled. 

“We been knew,” Jessi smirked. 

“Right right,” Lily said, going to gather the tights and shoes.

“Thanks Jessi,” you said as you stood up, stretching lightly.

You felt a light smack to your butt and you smiled back at her. 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” she giggled. 

“Alright ladies, we need to make a game plan for the night!” Lily announced as she walked back into the room.

“What do you mean?” you asked, raising a brow at her. 

“Who wants to get laid, who wants to wing woman and who wants to be the sober one,” Lily said.

“Well, Y/N is the getting laid one,” Jessi confirmed.

“Did you ask Y/N if she wants to get laid?” you asked, pointing to yourself.

“Fine, Y/N, do you not want me to find you a fine specimen of man that could knock your socks off in the bedroom?” Jessi said.

“Well... I mean, it’s not that I don’t want that but...”

“But what?” Lily asked, coming to sit next to Jessi.

“I’m shy, I don’t really attract people. I’m more of a hang out in the corner until I’m drunk enough to approach someone type of gal,” you said, biting your lip.

“Don’t ruin my hard work,” Jessi warned. 

“Sorry, nervous habit,” you answered, stopping the action quickly.

“Y/N, it’s all up to you, we don’t really have to go out but I thought this is what you came here for? To let loose and have some fun before moving back with your parents. But if all you wanna do is have a girls week then we can do that too... But, honestly you look amazing and any guy would be lucky to get with you,” Lily said. 

You thought it over. 

This is what you came here for. To let loose like she said. But now that it was happening you were retreating into office worker Y/N, not the badass you wanted to be for at least a week. So, you didn’t see the harm in getting laid. Honestly, it might get some of the pent up stress out of your system, and that sounded great.

“No, you guys are right. I wanted to come here to be free for a while. What’s the point in hiding in the corner when I can be the center of attention for once in my life. I say, let’s do it,” you said, confident.

Jessi squealed excitedly and clapped her hands. 

“Yes! We are gonna be the best wingwomen you’ve ever seen Y/N! We’ll pick a great one out for you,” she said.

“She also has eyes, Jessi, she might find the one,” Lily chastised. 

“Yes, yes sorry,” she said, shuffling through her closet in disinterest.

“Okay, so Jessi and I are both going to be wingwoman. It’ll be a shared effort so we can pick the best guy,” Lily announced. 

“Right,” you said. 

“But like Lily said, you have eyes. If you find someone you’re vibing with, let us know!” Jessi said back. 

“Okay,” you agreed.

The rest of the evening was spent making out rules and exchanging safety measures to make sure no one got hurt or left behind.

This was going to be very fun.

[petri808]

I3+Bakudeku mutual pining idiots Actor AU @miss-lorali request. I’m an idiot cause my idea is gonna be waaaay longer then I was aiming for lol.

“Okay,” the hiring director motioned for the pair to move closer. “Mr. Midoriya, remember you’re a scientist and Bakugou’s character is here to take you to safety. But you don’t understand why just yet. So, if you are ready, please begin the reading.”

Katsuki gesturing wildly, “pack it up quick nerd, we gotta get out of here before DAV gets here!”

Izuku pretending to complete a file download. He slammed his fist on the imaginary desk. “I can’t make the computer move faster! I don’t even understand what the hell is going on!”

Katsuki, “you’re science experiments aren’t important, we—”

Izuku straightened out, walked over and placed a finger on the larger man’s chest, running it slowly down from his collarbone to his pecs, while lowering his tone and narrowing his eyes. “Oh,” his brow raised, “and what would a grunt like you know about science?”

Katsuki slapped his hand away in annoyance, though a light flush arose on his tinged cheeks. “F-Fuck off!” He gritted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

“Yeah, yeah...” Izuku went back to the imaginary desk and pretended to type something. “30 seconds, fast enough for you? Probably like your bedroom speed,” he mumbled the last portion.

“What?!”

“And cut!” The hiring director yelled. “That was perfect!! Midoriya you’re hired!”

“Oh hell no!” Katsuki screamed at the director. “He added lines at the end! How is that okay?!”

“Because,” the woman countered. “It was still perfectly in character, and you know very well that the Director allows actors to ad lib if it fits the scene.”

Katsuki crossed his arms, “I refuse to work with him.”

“You’ve already signed the contract,” her brow perked up, “and may I remind you of the penalty if you quit now?”

“Find someone else!”

“No. The chemistry between you two came through perfectly on camera. It’s done. He’s it. End of discussion.” The woman then ignored the raging blonde and turned to Izuku. “I’ll let your agent know so we can sign the contracts, and I’ll have the full script sent to their office by end of day along with the filming schedule. You did a great job today holding your own and not getting lost next to Bakugou. I’m glad to have you on board with this project.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Ashido. I was quite excited when I heard about the project and look forward to being part of the team.”

“Kiss ass,” Katsuki sneered. “You’re in. No need for simpering.”

But Izuku played it cool. He wasn’t about to play into the leads temper tantrum. “You might be top as an action star, but I have my own credit successes. So, stop treating me like the hired help, or I’ll make you scream in another way.”

Katsuki’s eyes flashed wide and mouth hung agape. It’s been a long time since anyone’s stood up to him and this smaller, green-haired, freckle-faced mouse just grew a set of balls to rival his own. “H-how dare you?!”

“I dare,” Izuku grinned brightly. “See ya later Kacchan!” He waved as he walked away.

Ms. Ashido giggled. “Oooo, this is gonna be so good! I must say I’d chalked him up as iffy, but he really proved me wrong.”

“Little shit is already giving me a nickname? Who the fuck does he think he is?!”

“Your new co-star.” She patted his chest twice and walked away with a smirk.

“Fuck!” What did he just get himself into?!

That afternoon, Katsuki left the studio in a total huff. And to think, he’d gone in excited to be working with Izuku Midoriya. Their movie credits ran in different circles, but he knew exactly who the man was. Izuku was from all he’d seen a great actor, and the perfect person to play his opposite. The guy looked like a handsome office worker, lean but built well, smaller then himself, and would fit snuggly against his chest in a romantic scene. In fact, it was after one of Izuku’s very first movies as a lead that a crush bloomed for the man. He had expected a quieter guy, but oh, boy! Had he been blindsided! And if that didn’t just turn him on even more!

Hence the dilemma he now found himself in. He’d have to act side by side with a man he was extremely attracted to, but only pretended to be. Katsuki was certain that Izuku’s attitude during the read was the same as his— pretending. Because that’s how you sell a movie. If the audience buys into what you’re selling, box office sales will go up. It’s not supposed to be real emotions. Heaven help him this just might kill him!

At home, he read through the script again noting the section that would be his hardest to overcome. The love scenes. No full nudity, not even close, but there is a section near the end where in a moment of pent up emotions, and the exhilarating rush of emotions, they end up lip-locked. Granted, the more realistic it is, the better, but Katsuki felt the nerves kicking in just thinking about it. He could only pray that in the real moment, and energies are heightened, he simply runs on instinct and acting prowess.

‘Come on, dumbass! It’s not your first kiss scene!’ Katsuki growled to himself in the safety of his own home. “Stupid!” He was making himself all flustered like some virginal teenager about to kiss his first crush! Fuck that! He wasn’t about to show Izuku any weakness! The last thing he wanted was for the man to figure out he was really just an overgrown pining fool behind a mask of anger. He didn’t even know which way the man swung because Izuku kept his life private, very private. A miracle in their world of paparazzi. It meant two things, Izuku really was good at hiding, or simply wasn’t seeing anyone for them to catch. Either way, Katsuki couldn’t figure out what he desperately wanted to know. Did he have a chance?

A month later, Katsuki and Izuku found themselves on location in Europe where most of the scenes would be filmed. The premise of the movie is of a top-tier scientist in the field of chemicals played by Izuku, who is to be kidnapped. But because MI6 caught wind of the plan, they sent in one of their agents played by Katsuki to get Izuku to safety. They barely make it out of the lab in time and now they’re on the run, being hunted by a group called the DAV who want Izuku to create chemical weapons for them. Katsuki needed to somehow get Izuku safely from his home in France, back to England where the MI6 brass waited to secret him into permanent hiding.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Izuku screamed and yanked Katsuki to halt. The moment they stop moving, he collapsed onto his knees, clutching his chest trying to catch his breath from all the running. “W-what is going on?!”

“Look,” Katsuki tried to yank the man back to his feet, but Izuku slumped and played a dead weight. “Damn it, we gotta get out of here before someone sees us!”

“No! I-I can’t keep running like this! I’m not exactly athletic! Now, tell me what the hell is going on!”

Katsuki growled and ignored Izuku’s pleas. He grabbed him instead and dead lifted him up, hoisting the man onto his shoulder in a fireman carry. Izuku bucked, but Katsuki literally slapped his ass to behave. “Just shut up for now,” he snapped and took off running down the alleyway. “I’ll explain everything when I get us somewhere safe!”

“If I’m the victim, shouldn’t you be nicer to me?!” Izuku retorted.

“I’ll be nicer if you stop causing me a headache!”

As soon as they exit the alley, Katsuki quickly surveyed his options. The bad guys blew up his car, so he needed transportation. He saw a man exiting a vehicle and rushed over, pulling a gun on them.

“Gimme the keys,” he aimed at the man’s head, to which they immediately complied. “Now scram!”

Katsuki put Izuku back on his feet. “Get in!”

“Where are we go—”

“Just get in the fucking car!”

Once Izuku is inside the passenger side, Katsuki got into the drivers and hightailed it out of there, heading towards the outskirts of town.

“Trailing car... And cut! Perfect!” The director called out. “Thirty minute break to reset for the next scene.”

“Kacchan, wanna get some lunch with me?” Izuku asked as they stepped out of the car.

“No,” Katsuki replied and quickly walked away, leaving his co-actor standing there with a sad, pouting look on his face.

‘Don’t turn around!’ He screamed at himself. Just co-workers, he reminded. Don’t get too close to that cute... freckled... “Fuck!” Katsuki screamed the moment he slammed his trailer door behind him and fell back against it. ‘Why’d I slap his ass!’ He groaned and ran a hand down his face. It wasn’t in the script and apparently the director didn’t mind it. ‘You did it cause you wanted to...’ his conscience chimed back. “Fuck you.” That’s not true...

A few minutes later there was a knock at his door. “Go away!” Katsuki snapped, he didn’t want to be bothered. Then a second knock, and a shuffling sound. “Go the fuc—” He whipped the door open to find no one standing there. “What the?” That’s when his looked down and saw a wrapped sandwich and a piece of paper tucked under it. Katsuki picked it up and closed door, opening up the sandwich to eat it. He was hungry, just didn’t want to take Izuku up on his offer. As he ate he opened the note:

I just wanna be friends :) that was a taxing scene, so you must be hungry. See you back on set. -I

It had been Izuku.

“Tch.” Katsuki bit down on the sandwich. ‘Didn’t have the balls to stick around though.’ But despite his grumping, he couldn’t help the light blush filtering onto his cheeks and warmth filling his body. Izuku was just too damn nice.

Filming an action movie was a lot more taxing then the consumers might realize. Thankfully, stunt doubles did the hardest scenes for the pair, but close ups and cardio elements were all them, and to see Izuku keeping up with him left Katsuki pleasantly surprised. Too pleasant. Moments in close confines, of him holding or dragging the man around left his libido in agony by end of day only to be relieved by a hand it didn’t want. Almost four months of agony had left Katsuki’s mind a buzz, trapped in a cycle of false realities and wishful thinking.

It was the last day of filming, and the scene Katsuki had dreaded had finally arrived. So much so, that he’d convinced the producer to hold off on filming it till the very end despite it taking place two-thirds of the way through the movie itself. Screw it, they can edit and splice it in. For a lot of actors, the intimately romantic parts were the hardest to accomplish, because conveying such raw emotions and making it believably real for the audience took great finesse.

They were holed up for the night in a small run down inn Katsuki managed to find after crossing the French border into Belgium. They were both exhausted, Izuku’s character more so, unused to such physical demands. DAV always managed to catch up to them within a day or two, so it left them little time to breathe, and Izuku was at his breaking point.

The smaller male pounded on Katsuki’s chest while tears streamed down his face. “I can’t keep doing this! Why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s flailing arms gently to stop him. “I don’t know why.” He pulled the man towards the bed to sit down, taking a place beside him as he did his best to console. “But I promise I’ll keep you safe. We’ll get to safety soon and it will all be over with.”

Izuku sobbed harder, burying his face in Katsuki’s shoulder. His fingers gripped tightly to the man’s torn shirt. “You can’t promise me that,” he mumbled. “I’ve caused you so much trouble, maybe it’s best if I gave myself up to them.”

Katsuki pushed the man back and forced Izuku to look up at him. “Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare! You think I’m gonna just let them take you?!” His voice cracked as he channeled real emotions of the fear of losing this man. “You... I’m not letting them take you away from me Hitomu!”

Izuku looked up when he heard the pain behind Katsuki’s words to find tears pooling and clouded ruby red eyes. He held the man’s gaze for several seconds, staring, lip quivering. “I don’t want to leave you either, Takeo.” Izuku’s fingers slowly uncurl, smoothing out and lowering to Katsuki’s firm abdomen where it came to rest just above the waistline and pressed in firmly. “I feel safe with you.”

Katsuki’s breathing slowed as his eyes widened. Shit! He’s not ready for this scene! He thought he was, oh how he wanted to just rush in and steal Izuku’s lips! But his mind froze as glistening emerald eyes held it hostage. What was his lines? Are there any lines? Fuck! He couldn’t think straight!

“Cut!” The director yelled. “Bakugou, what’s the problem? You hold the gaze for a second then kiss him. Do you need a break?”

This was the first time since making it big that Katsuki’s messed up a scene like this. He took a moment to snap out of his trance, then yelled back. “No! Let’s just get this over with.”

“Alright. Places people, let’s take it from the last line Midoriya. Action!”

Izuku repeated the last line, “I feel safe with you,” adding a deeper grip to the waist band of Katsuki’s pants.

Katsuki’s eyes lower, half-lidded as he reached out and caressed Izuku’s face gently, cupping the man’s cheek before leaning in and landing a solid kiss. His mind was barely holding it together to keep his actions gentle.

Izuku reacted accordingly, once again his fingers gripping to the fabric of Katsuki’s clothes as the kiss was deepened considerably.

Katsuki’s hand trailed up and behind, tangling into his co-actors green curls. He let go of any control and lost himself in their embrace, in the feel of Izuku’s supple lips against his own. In that moment, they were no longer filming a movie scene, but transported into the blonde’s fantasy, of so much more that he’d love to do this man’s body. His eyes rolled back and fluttered as Izuku trailed heated kisses down to the nape of his neck, pressing firm nibbles and light mewling whines.

“Kacchan...” Izuku huskily whispered too low for the microphone to pick up.

But Katsuki heard it loud and clear, and he responded with a rumbling groan that went straight to his groin. Izuku had used his nickname... Not the characters name! His nickname! And damn did it sound sweet to his ears! Katsuki’s too far gone and doesn’t stop the decent, even as the smaller male applied pressure, allowing Izuku to guide them deeper onto the bed. Hands followed curves and groped flesh as they moved under the confines of shirts in the makings of a sex scene. Izuku truly felt wonderful against him, moving in time with his movements like a perfect dance. It was only once on his back, with their bodies semi-entwined, that the director finally yelled cut, and Katsuki’s fantasy came to a screeching halt.

“Brilliant work guys!” The director congratulated his two stars as they made their way off the bed. “I think we can call it a wrap!”

Applause rang out on the set as everyone was high-fiving or shaking hands, patting the two men on the back and adding to the job well done message. Izuku was blushed and beaming, but Katsuki still flustered from the scene, ignored the jovial repartee and beelined it to his trailer for some privacy. It was a miracle no one noticed the slight pitch in his pants, because now he was fucking horny! If the director hadn’t stopped them, who knows how far things would have gone. The sound of Izuku’s voice whispering his name continued to repeat in Katsuki’s mind like a siren, but he couldn’t give into it.

“This was just acting!” Katsuki screamed in the safety of his trailer as he punched the wall as hard as he could. It’s a fantasy! A goddamn fantasy world! And it’s over! “Stop thinking about him!” At that moment, there’s a knock on his trailer door followed by his name being called out.

“Kacchan? What was that loud bang?”

Fuck! It was Izuku again!

“Kacchan?” More determined pounding on the doror. “Kacchan, c-can we talk, please, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m fine, go away!”

“I’m not going away, we need to talk about what just happened!”

Katsuki growled and slammed the door wide open, ignoring the throb of his hand. “No, we don’t! It was just a scene Izuku!” But after shouting his piece-of-mind, he’s taken slightly aback at the teary-eyed man who looked like he was on the verge of crying.

“It wasn’t just a scene for me, Kacchan.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki questioned, though again his whispered nickname sprang back to the forefront. Had Izuku said it on purpose?!

“Did you feel nothing between us?” Izuku’s lip quivered as he spoke. “Was the passion that came out on set just acting?” His voice cracked. “If you say yes, I-I’ll leave you alone. It’s just— I took this job because... I like you, Kacchan. I’ve liked you for a long time and thought maybe... but— that’s okay, just forget it,” he turned to walk away unwilling to take the rejection face-forward. “Thank you for the opportunity to work with you.”

Katsuki stood in his spot completely stunned by the confession. But the further Izuku moved away from his trailer, he quickly realized he was about to lose the very thing he’d come to desire. He raced after the man and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around, and slammed his lips into the stunned Izuku. It was filled with an even more heightened passion then before, now that there was no audience watching them. He nibbled at the man’s bottom lip, eliciting a groan, while Izuku’s hands grabbed desperately onto his shirt, holding tight.

“Fucking nerd,” Katsuki mumbled with a smile while threading his fingers through Izuku’s hair. “How could I not want you too after you’d riled me up since the day we met.”

Izuku blushed in embarrassment. “S-sorry for coming on so strong. I just got in my head that I needed to look cool and not a pining mess. I really wanted to work with you.”

“Tch, I guess I can’t really talk, because I acted like an asshole, so I didn’t look like a pining idiot.” Katsuki laughed. “Guess we’re both pining idiots.” He kissed Izuku again and lowered his voice to a sultry tone. “Wanna finish what we started?”

Izuku giggled as his hands tugged at the man’s waistband. “Most definitely.”

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

Silly Bonus: from a chat with a friend lol

As they start to walk back towards Katsuki’s trailer, Izuku takes hold of the man’s hand. But now that the adrenaline had worn off, Katsuki immediately flinched from the pain. Izuku stopped and lifted it up for inspection, seeing the slight swell of the man’s knuckles and drying blood. “Oh my goodness, Kacchan was that noise from you punching the wall?”

“What? No!” He pulled his hand back and hid it behind his back.

“You’re bleeding, we should get the medics.”

“I’m fine, it’s fine, it’s just ketchup.”

“Ketchup?” Izuku’s brow raised. “Really?”

“Really.”

Izuku:

[morizoras-cave]

Fat (Request)

Tom Holland x teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Request Description: hi i was wondering if i could request a tom holland x teen!reader where he finds out she has an eating disorder maybe? i know this is a sensitive topic so obviously if it makes you uncomfortable i completely understand :) thank you!

Warnings: EATING DISORDER body insecurity, sad shit, depression

(A/N): my nose is STUFFED, my ears are POPPIN, my dog is BARKING. anyway on a more serious note, “eat body positivity” - shane madej. i tried to not specify the reader’s body type. you should be able to read this whether you’re thick and beautiful or skinny and beautiful or somewhere in between and beautiful :)

You were always self conscious of your body. For as long as you could remember, you just didn’t feel beautiful. But for most of your life, that wasn’t something you had acted on. Not like now. 

The news of your casting in the newest installment of the Spiderman franchise had brought more eyes than ever to you. Perhaps it was manageable before because you could hide away, but you couldn’t anymore. There were always people filming or taking pictures now. 

You’d only been filming for about a month, but you were the lowest you’d ever been mental health-wise. You’d started starving yourself for as long as you possibly could every day. If you couldn’t get out of eating, you’d stick your fingers down your throat to trigger your gag reflex. 

You knew it was bad. Of course you did. But you had to. Besides, it felt so good, each day that passed with nothing eaten. How could you stop?

Of course, Tom noticed something off about you. All of the cast did. But just like Tom, they all wrote it off as you just being slightly strange, and you just being very fragile. He could see you losing weight, but blamed it on the hectic schedule and possibly a diet. 

It took a lot of weird occurrences for Tom to notice. He had walked in on you having “lunch”, only to see no food in sight (which you always blamed on simply not having had time to get it yet). He’d seen you staring in the mirror uncomfortably a couple of times, but he could always blame that on him just seeing things.

Still, the cards were stacking against you, and it all came crumbling down, when Tom walked into your hotel room, expecting to rehearse some lines, when he heard you in the bathroom.

You’d given in and eaten something, just to cease the pain in your stomach. But the moment you’d eaten it, you’d felt horrible and you stumbled helplessly into the bathroom. 

You had to get it out of you. You would get fatter. Fatter than you already were. You had to get it out of you. You had to.

Tom refrained from calling out your name because of the pit forming in his stomach. He knew. He knew when he saw your form bent over the toilet, shaking and gargling. 

He was shaken. 

“Y/n,” his voice was just a whisper, seemingly the only sound capable of escaping him. You heard him though, and froze, pulling away, but not facing him.

“Oh, Tom,” you mumbled. He could see you, thinking. You stood up, and it was like it had never been clearer how much weight you’d lost, when your legs shook under you. 

You turned around and faced him. “I just haven’t been feeling well, that’s all,” your voice was hoarse as you looked him in the eyes, tears falling down your face. The lie hung in the indifferent air. Tom just stood there. 

You couldn’t decipher his face. Was he angry? Would he laugh at you? The tears kept falling from your face, and you pathetically tried to stop them. “I just haven’t been-” 

Tom cut you off with a hug, as his arms wrapped around your body and he squeezed, like he needed confirmation you were there. Your face pressed against his chest allowed you to hear his uncontrollable heartbeat.

You brought your arms around him. Tom kept grasping you harder, like you were slipping away, and it broke your heart. And you broke his heart.

“Y/n,” his voice sounded like the feelings that coated his insides, rotten and black, “You can’t- You can’t do this, N/n. You can’t-” his voice broke. He breathed in sharply, attempting to keep away the tears.

“But, Tom. I’m so.. I’m so fat! I’m so ugly! I need to-”

“But you’re not! You’re not fat. You’re so beautiful. Your body is so beautiful. It is now and it always has been. But the thing about right now..,” Tom broke hug to step away from you a little, both hands still on your shoulders. He looked you in the eyes. “Right now your body is not healthy.” 

“I know!.. I know.  I just wanted to feel beautiful..” you mumbled and ran back into his arms. Tom felt himself dying at your pure misery. 

He sat you both down on your hotel bed, and just held you there in his arms, rubbing your back as you cried into him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You are beautiful. You’re so pretty.” 

You and him sat there for a long time. First, he was just comforting you, whispering to you that you were beautiful. Then, once you’d calmed down, he had to convince you it wasn’t embarrassing. Because it wasn’t, and Tom just wanted you to feel happy.

Then you two had a long talk about how you were going to fix this. You tried to convince him to let you take care of it yourself, but Tom was not going to let this go. He said that you either needed to take a couple of months off of filming to recover at home, or you had to inform your manager, so she could plan your meals and watch over you as you ate them (and make sure you didn’t throw it up). 

Either way, Tom, from that day forward, never let you walk a day without receiving several compliments. 

“You look lovely today!”

“Beautiful dress! You look stunning!” 

“All the boys are fainting in shock over your beauty.”

It was very corny and cringy at times, but it was the boost you needed. You couldn’t say it fixed all your problems, but it helped and it was a start.

It might not have been right in that moment, but you knew that in the future you would be able to look at yourself and love every single speck that you’d see. And you were looking forward to that day, and hey, even more than you, was Tom. Because he did think that you beautiful, despite whatever your weight was, as long as you were happy. And that is the way it should be. :)

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @ireadfanficforfun @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @eviemarvel @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken​

[annoyed-galaxy]

Post-Destroy Ending

I bring from the grave of the beyond a fix-it fic serving up fresh angst and some fluff. Mass Effect destroyed my heart and with that major fucking cliffhanger, I just had to write something. But since there's a lot, I decided to break this up into chapters. Well, who knows how many chapters there will be, but just stick around I'm sure you'll have a great time. My writing is still rusty as hell, but I needed to get SOMETHING out. Anyways enjoy this! It's also on AO3 if you want that link.

Go!

It was the last thing she had ordered when she ran off into the jaws of death. He hated watching her go. Hated seeing her run back towards the beam with Harbinger raining down death. Tali had to tear him away from watching her run, dragging him back into the Normandy.

Garrus was on his fourth bottle of alcohol. The other three bottles were littered across Shepard’s nameplate. He ran his fingers across each letter of her name. It had been a couple weeks and Garrus still refused to put her name on the memorial wall. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. And he sure as hell wasn’t letting someone else do it.

They were still grounded on the uncharted world they had crashed into after the blast from the Citadel. While the Normandy was relatively fine, there were still some repairs that had to be made. There was also the issue with EDI. When the blast caused the Normandy to crash, EDI had suddenly collapsed, no longer functioning. Whatever the blast was, it didn’t kill just the Reapers.

The mass relays were destroyed, comm buoys were in pieces, so communication was very limited. Whatever happened back on Earth, whether people had recovered or not, was not making it to the Normandy anytime soon. The Reapers were defeated, but at what cost?

The door to the lounge opened and Liara sat next to Garrus. She grabbed a bottle of wine and began to pour herself a glass. “How are you feeling?” she asked, taking a sip.

Garrus grumbled to himself. He was drunk, his mind fuzzy and numb. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

Liara nodded, not buying his story, but knew he hadn’t been okay in a while. “Tali has been working on EDI. She also brought Glyph back. In return, Glyph has been helping Tali with bringing EDI back,” Liara explained, hoping some good news would brighten his mood.

He looked at her, his face plates shifting. Part of him was annoyed that she would bring that up, knowing the possibility of Shepard truly being gone was most likely. But he was happy for Joker at the very least. “That’s good,” he mumbled, returning to his drink.

Liara frowned, worry crossing her face. “Garrus...I know you’re hurting, but...” Liara stopped herself. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Garrus. I know Joker has been talking about trying to make it back to Earth. But with the mass relays out, who knows how long it’ll be until we get there. Communications have been scrambled too.” Liara put a hand on his back. “It’s going to be okay Garrus. I promise.”

He stayed silent. He had nothing to say. He wanted to go back to Earth, back to the Citadel. He wouldn’t put Shepard’s name on the memorial wall until he had seen her cold corpse himself.

After a few minutes of silence, Liara finally decided it would be best to leave the turian to his sulking. She left with comforting parting words.

༻✧༺

“There’s a body over here!”

Her head was pounding. There were noises. Faint. Distant. Her body burned, stung, felt battered and bruised. She was breathing, but it stung. The voices came closer. She could no longer make out words, but she saw blinding lights come into view. She felt a weight lift from her, probably some rubble, and she couldn’t make out any faces. There were just blurred shapes and bright lights.

“Holy shit, it’s Commander Shepard!”

More shapes rushed over to her. Rubble was being dragged off of her. The light began to fade, her breathing slowing. She felt something cover her nose and mouth. Air filled her easily now. Her eyes fluttered shut and the noise faded away.

༻✧༺

“EDI!” Joker cried out as the robot sat up, blinking. He hugged her, tears forming in his eyes.

“Hello, Jeff,” EDI replied, slightly confused. She returned the hug, tentatively patting his back. He moved out of the way, allowing her to stand on her feet. “What happened?” she asked, looking around the room. She was in the AI core, Tali, Liara, and Glyph all stationed behind Joker, watching with held breaths as she was brought back to life.

“The blast from the Citadel took you out,” Joker explained, his arms on her shoulders. “But the Reapers were taken down too. Tali and Glyph have been working day in and day out to bring you back.”

EDI looked back at Tali and Glyph and smiled. “Thank you, you two. I did not realize I had...died.” EDI looked down at her hands, stretching her robotic fingers. “It felt like I had just stopped working. There was no afterlife.”

Joker put a finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. “It’s okay, you’re here now.” She smiled and took his hand.

“So what did I miss?” she asked, as they left the AI core. Awkward glances were shared between Tali and Liara.

Joker cleared his throat and took EDI to the bridge of the ship, letting her settle back into her usual co-pilot seat. The door to the cockpit closed as Tali and Liara stepped in. “Shepard activated the Crucible,” Joker began to explain. “Whatever it did, it destroyed the Reapers and other synthetic lives including you. But it also destroyed the mass relays and left comm buoys in scrambles. We’ve been stuck on an uncharted world for about a month now, trying to get you working again.”

“We didn’t feel safe, nor comfortable, taking off without you working again,” Liara added, offering a small smile to EDI. “That and the fact that the Normandy is currently offline.”

“You keep the Normandy in full function,” Tali tagged on.

Joker nodded. “Now that you’re back online, we’re hoping to make it back to Earth. The only issue with that is...”

“We don’t know how far away we are, nor how long would it take, or if we could even get there via FTL,” Liara explained, her voice low and sad.

“Is there a specific reason to going back to Earth?” EDI asked, pure innocence and naiveness in her robotic eyes.

Joker looked at Tali and Liara, asking for some backup with his eyes. Tali rubbed her hands together nervously. “We want to try and find Shepard.”

EDI tilted her head. “Is Shepard alive?”

The three of them exchanged looks once more. “We...we don’t know,” Liara sighed. “But Garrus seems determined to find out.”

EDI lowered her head. “Oh. Right. Garrus and Shepard were in a romantic relationship weren’t they?” Everyone nodded. “I will begin to run diagnostics on the ship then, to see what repairs will be required to get us off the ground once more,” EDI said, more optimistic and hopeful. It seemed to work as Joker, Tali, and Liara smiled a little more.

“I’ll let Garrus know,” Liara said before leaving the cockpit. She went to the crew deck, in the lounge looking for Garrus, but he wasn’t there. She went to the other side, the starboard observatory, but he wasn’t there either. She went to the main battery, wondering if he had gone back to calibrating to distract him, but he wasn’t there either. Liara could think of only one other place he would be grieving in.

As she suspected, the door to Shepard’s cabin was open, a somber tune of a piano playing through the speakers as she stepped out of the elevator. Laying on the bed was Garrus, a picture in his hand. Liara could tell it was the picture of the Normandy crew they had taken back on the Citadel. “Good news, Garrus,” Liara greeted, standing next to the fish tank. He looked up at her, his mandibles parting in curiosity. “EDI is back online. She is going to run a systems check and see what it will take to get us back to Earth.”

Garrus sat up, putting the picture on one of the bedside tables. “That’s what everyone wants to do?” he asked, not looking at her, still looking at the picture.

Liara moved closer, sitting on the end of the bed. “Garrus, you’re not the only one who wants to find Shepard. I, for one, do not want to see her name on that wall either. I want to at least see her body if she is...gone.”

Garrus snorted. “Weren’t you the one who recovered her body last time? After the Normandy’s first destruction?”

Liara nodded. “I was. Until I found her, I never lost hope. Even when I recovered her body, I still didn’t lose hope, especially since Cerberus planned to bring her back. I thought it was crazy, but they did it.” Liara smirked. “Death and Shepard are not good friends. She defies him at every turn.”

“I just...I don’t want to put her name on that damned wall. Because if I do, then it may be as well saying she’s gone. I...can’t accept that.” Garrus’s voice faltered, weak and strained. Liara couldn’t hear his sub-vocal very well, but she knew it was worse than his regular voice. She knew the pain of losing Shepard would be hard on him.

“Then let’s hope we can make it to Earth soon,” Liara comforted, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He silently nodded as she left the cabin.

༻✧༺

Another month had passed by, the Normandy was still grounded, but basic functions were online. Power kept the basic necessities alive, powering Liara’s room where she spent most of her time, using her Shadow Broker resources trying to gauge the aftermath of the Reaper War. No matter how much she tried to get any information, with comm buoys out of commission and them being on an uncharted world, anything she received was scarce at best. She still had received no status about the Citadel, Earth, or what state the galactic civilization was in. The only information she could glean, was what everyone already knew; the Reapers were dead and the mass relays were broken.

Voices were raised in concern about food supplies. There was still plenty of food for everyone, including Tali and Garrus, but supplies would run out soon if they didn’t restock. James, Cortez, Tali, Garrus, and Javik all decided to explore the uncharted world in hopes to find some food. Tali had a scanner in her suit that could identify whether something was poisonous and dextro-friendly or not. The only thing they had managed to find was some berries for everyone except the quarian and turian.

“Great, we’re going to be living off berries,” James groaned, picking the bright red fruits from the bush Tali had just scanned.

“Be lucky we found anything at all,” Tali retorted. “Garrus and I still have to find food that we can eat.”

“To be fair, you guys are the only dextros on board so you’re not going through your supply as fast,” Cortez pointed out.

“Hopefully we won’t run out in general,” Garrus said, looking aimlessly at the horizon. The system’s sun was equal to the sun, Sol, providing the same warmth and light on this world’s surface.

“If we do run out of food, we can just eat one another,” Javik suggested. Everyone turned and looked at the Prothean.

“Of course the Prothean would say that,” James cackled. “Talking about salarian soup and shit.”

“Let’s try to avoid that outcome,” Cortez suggested.

The idle conversation continued as the group continued looking for more food.

“Liara.” EDI stepped into the Shadow Broker’s cabin, her arms behind her back as she waited patiently for the asari to notice her.

“What is it EDI?” Liara looked up from her computer screen, frustration painted on her face.

“I found something. Upon doing an internal scan of the Normandy, I discovered a signal that was sent about two months ago. A distress signal,” EDI explained.

Liara looked at EDI in curious surprise. “Oh?”

EDI motioned for Liara to follow back up to the bridge of the Normandy. Joker was sitting in his pilot’s seat, the seat turned to face the door of the cockpit. His hands were templed together and worry was bright across his face. “Jeff and I have already listened to the signal. I had to clear it up in order to understand it since the signal was so ruined.” EDI explained as she stood next to Joker.

“Keep in mind, it’s two months old,” Joker grumbled as EDI used her omni-tool to play the signal.

There was a lot of crackling in the beginning and then a cough. “Help...” Liara strained to listen to the static in the voice. “This is...Com...mander...Shep...ard. I’m...still alive...Please help...” The signal cut off then with one more cough from the sender.

Liara’s eyes widened as EDI and Joker looked up at her to gauge her reaction. “Don’t get your hopes up. The signal is two months old,” Joker repeated.

“Do you...do you know if this signal was received by anyone else?” Liara asked, her voice soft and quiet. It was hard to determine what her reaction was.

“No. As I said, I just received this signal when I was doing diagnostics on the Normandy,” EDI answered. “I cannot determine if the signal was sent to any available ships or if it was sent to the Normandy specifically.”

Liara crossed her arms, bringing a hand to her chin, stroking it thoughtfully. There was a reason Joker reiterated the fact that the signal was two months old. With no knowledge of whether or not the signal was received by anyone else, there was no guaranteeing Shepard was alive. Liara sighed. “There’s nothing we can do about it. But whatever you do, don’t show it to Garrus. Unless we can find out whether or not the signal was received by someone else, there is no reason to bank our hopes on this.”

Joker nodded. “I agree. And honestly, Liara? As much as I want to hope...I don’t think she made it.”

Liara smiled sadly. “We can only hope she did, Jeff.”

༻✧༺

Not sure if turian heaven is the same as yours, but if this thing goes sideways and we both end up there...meet me at the bar.

She was standing in the forest. There was no child there this time. No copy of herself. She was alone. There were voices surrounding her. She looked around. Her body didn’t hurt. She couldn’t feel anything. There was a bar on the opposite end of the forest. She could have sworn she saw a turian sitting on one of the stools, a bottle in its hand.

Her legs began moving, but like all the other dreams, she moved slowly, felt weighed down by a crushing force of gravity, moving impossibly slow.

Shepard.

She heard his voice again. All around the forest. She reached out towards the turian sitting at the bar. She wanted to call out for him, but her throat tightened and no sound escaped. Fire started to form around the turian and the bar.

Not again. Please. Not again.

Come back alive. It’d be an awfully empty galaxy without you.

The flames consumed the bar and the turian, just as his head turned to look at her; the blue eyes, the blue colony marking across his face, his visor, his mandibles parting at the sight of her.

We’re in this until the end.

She tried crying out, but the flames consumed him and the noise of the Reapers echoed all around her. A bright flash of red came into her view. She felt sluggish as she brought her arms up in a futile attempt to block the beam from disintegrating her. But the pain never hit.

༻✧༺

Six months had passed since the Reaper War ended. Food supplies had started to run short, even for the dextros on the Normandy. Despite all the exploring the adventuring party had done, they still found nothing more except for berries for everyone else. However, progress on getting the Normandy back online was going well. EDI had predicted that the Normandy would be airborne within the week.

The mood on the ship was tense. Everyone was excited to be airborne again. Garrus still kept Shepard’s nameplate close to him. People stopped talking about the possibilities of Shepard’s fate, not wanting to further upset the turian and the rest of her close friends. Games of poker were used to distract crew members from the low running food supplies and the restlessness of being grounded for so long on an uncharted world.

“Man I can’t wait to get the hell off this planet,” James chattered, fixing himself a plate of berry flavored scrap food. “We’re pretty much out of food and have been surviving off of berries and MREs for six goddamn months. We haven’t been getting nearly enough proteins we need in a daily meal.” He sat down at the lunch table where the other crew members sat. Tali and Garrus looked at him pointedly. He lifted his shoulders. “What? You guys still have food.”

Tali scoffed. “Barely. There wasn’t that much dextro-food compared to your guys’ food. So we started running out around the same time you guys did.”

Cortez smiled, offering some hope around the table. “It’s okay guys. EDI said we should be taking off here soon.”

“Yes, but how long until we get to a known system?” James countered. “The mass relays are still screwed and we haven’t even received communications in forever.”

“Not to worry,” piped the synthetic voice of EDI who had just rounded the corner of the mess room. Liara stood next to her, a small smile on her face. “Communications have been reestablished.”

Liara sighed softly. “The only problem is that the communications we do receive are delayed. Say, if something was sent four months ago, we would just be receiving it now, or later. So any news we do get is going to be late.”

“Fantastic,” Garrus mumbled, looking down at his plate. He had barely touched his food and Tali was half-tempted to snag what he didn’t eat.

“Getting communications up at all is a start,” EDI admitted. “As I said, it shouldn’t be long before I can get the Normandy back into full motion.”

“Please hurry,” James begged, leaning back in his chair. “I’m sick and tired of this planet. If we had more resources, I wouldn’t mind living here. But I’m gonna lose it if I managed to survive the Reapers just to die to starvation six months later.”

Cortez raised a glass towards James. “Cheers to that.”

Liara rolled her eyes just as Specialist Traynor rushed around the corner. “Everyone! Come quick! I just received a message from Admiral Hackett!”

Everyone perked up a bit at that statement. Most of the communications they received were garbage or were so insignificant that Liara had immediately deleted them. But a message from Admiral Hackett? This had to be good.

Everyone rushed to the elevator, cramming inside of it before stepping out into the CIC. Traynor rushed over to her computer and pulled up the message. “I haven’t listened to it yet, I just saw who it was from and decided to call everyone up.” Joker was leaning on the opposite side of Traynor, by Shepard’s personal computer. There was a glint of hope in his eyes at the news of the message from Hackett.

Admiral Hackett played a huge part in the Reaper War, commanding the forces that brought the Crucible to the Citadel. If he was sending a message directly to the Normandy, then hopefully it was good news. Or news in general.

The message came up, but the frequency was all scrambled, too much static to even hear words. A few tweaks later and the old man’s voice finally came through.

“Normandy. This is Admiral Hackett. With the comm buoys in disarray and mass relays destroyed, I don’t know if and when this message will reach you, but you need to come back to Earth as soon as possible. Do whatever the hell you have to to make it back.” There was a pause in the message as everyone looked at each other. Then the voice spoke again and the words that came out struck everyone.

“We found Commander Shepard. She’s alive.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Other Woman ~ JJK [Request]

↬↬↬word count: 2.3K

↬↬↬Pairing: Jungkook x OtherWoman!Reader

↬↬↬genre: fluffy, mild angst, mentions of cheating

Jungkook looked at himself in the mirror as he straightened up his tie, he knew what he was about to do was wrong but he didn't care all he cared about was being able to see you after the long and terrible week he'd been having at work. He'd been craving your touch all week and he wasn't going to let the fact that he was married get in the way of that. 

"Are you sure you have to go?" His wife asked as she came back into the room carrying a small suitcase - it was what he used whenever he had business trips to go on but this time it wasn't a business trip. He was going to see you it had been so long since you got to spend time together he was going to stay the entire weekend.

 "I'm sure, do you have plans?" She draped her arms around his neck and pulled him back into her grasp, trying to kiss him but he pulled away to do his tie up and make up an excuse to leave sooner than planned. 

"Will you just leave?" You questioned your roommate who was also one of your best friends, she'd been acting off with you all week but you knew what it was. You knew it was because Jungkook was coming over and she knew he was married, 

"It's wrong, you know that right?" You ignored her trying to remember if you'd gotten the bed sheets changed over or if you still had to do it before he got there. 

"Yes I've heard this speech from you a million times and I don't want to-"

"He'll never leave her. He'll promise you over and over again that it's you he loves but he doesn't. You're nothing but a piece on the side like the skank you are." Those were her final words before she slammed the door shut in your face leaving you to stare at the glass panels. She'd been expressing her disgust for what you and Jungkook had been doing from the moment she walked in on you both together and saw his ring.

"Everything alright Jisoo just stormed-" Jungkook stopped himself from talking when he came face to face with you in the doorway, 

"She called me a skank..." He dropped his bag on the floor and took your hands in his wanting you to look at him but you wouldn't, you were avoiding his gaze trying to figure out if she was right about it or not. Would he really leave his wife for you? 

"I'm all yours, come on." You felt your heart pick up at the words and he walked through to your living room sitting down on the sofa, dragging you down to straddle him. 

"I'm all yours for the weekend okay?" His hand was cupping your cheek as he said that, for the weekend, that was all you got and even with that the second his wife called he would go back to her. 

"Do you have to go back?" You questioned looking down at him as he ran his hands up and down your sides, there was no way this was just about sex because you and Jungkook hardly spent time having sex. You would much rather spend time together, talking, eating or going to the place where you met, god you could still remember that like it was yesterday...

The day had been one disaster after another, first, you'd broken a heel of your favourite shoes on the way to work, then your bag dropped onto the floor knocking the contents into a puddle and ruining everything you'd been working on for weeks. Then your co-worker practically stole your presentation and got the promotion you were supposed to get. 

"Fuck," You cried out as you went crashing into someone knocking a fresh hot cup of coffee down your white shirt, knocking you to the floor and cutting your knee open on the gravel. You were ready to scream at whoever it was for knocking you down like this but when you looked up his tattooed hand was outstretched for you to take and help stand up. 

"Thanks," You mumbled looking down at your bloody knee, you went to put pressure down to walk when you knee buckled from underneath you. 

"S-Shit." You didn't want to sit and cry in front of a many you didn't know,

"I really hurt you didn't I? I'm so sorry." He sounded truly sorry for what he'd done but whenever you looked at him you just seemed to get lost in his eyes and the way they would sparkle when you looked into them. 

"N-No I'm okay." You went to apply pressure again only to buckle underneath your own weight and fall into his arms, 

"We should get you seen to," He helped you stumble over to a bench where he took a closer look at your knee, his fingers running across the graze trying to see if there was anything caught inside it. 

"I think it's just a bruise, I'll be okay." You wanted to push him away from you but having him close to you like that was sending sparks up and down your body. The way he looked at you sent butterflies loose in your stomach and all you wanted to do was jump on top of him right then and there and kiss him...What were you saying?! You didn't even know him yet here you were already planning what your wedding flowers were going to be? 

"I'm Jungkook," He linked your arm around the back of his neck and told you to lean on him to walk, 

"Y/n." You grunted back to him as you began stumbling in the direction towards the train station car park, 

"I drove here today, do you have a car?" He questioned looking down at you and wondering where you would keep keys on an outfit like that, you had no handbag and you clearly didn't have pockets with a skirt like that. 

"I catch a taxi, take me over to the bay and I'm sure I'll be fine." You whimpered slowly starting to be able to put pressure on your knee but not wanting to admit that to the sexy guy who was helping you out. 

"I insist you let me take you home." You scoffed at him, 

"How do I know you're not some creepy stalker or serial killer?" He chuckled hearing your snarky response to him it only made him feel for you more. 

"Well how about I promise you I'm not?" You scoffed once again and he knew that wasn't going to be enough to convince you that he wasn't some stalker serial killer who just wanted to kill you.

You laid there staring at the ceiling while Jungkook laid beside you snoring softly, you turned over to watch him and you felt your heart pound. His ring was still on his finger, your mind kept going back to everything your roommate had been saying to you. The names she's called you - she'd called you more in the days leading up to the weekend, she disapproved of this heavily and normally you would too but there was something about Jungkook. He just had that power to make you feel like this was the right thing to do, that his life back home wasn't the one that he wanted and this one was, this was his true life and he would come to you.

"You're thinking about her aren't you?" You jumped a little hearing his voice come out of nowhere, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to lay across his chest wanting to feel you close to him. 

"Is she right?" You weren't going to beat around it anymore, you wanted answers and you wanted them now. You had to know if he was serious about leaving his wife or if he was going to keep doing this to you, having one-off nights together only to go back to her and tell her god knows what. It was destroying you on the inside, the thought of wrecking a home but you knew he wasn't happy so that should be enough to make you feel less guilty...But it didn't.

"Is who right?" He yawned opening his eyes to see you properly, your hands were holding one another as you nervously played with the skin around your fingers, 

"Jisoo...Is she right? That you won't leave your wife for me?" He let out a sigh and that was answer enough for you, it was an answer that you didn't want. The sigh meant that he wasn't put as much thought into it as you thought he had, you thought he'd spent as much time as he could thinking about it like you had. Fuck it had you up at night and yet to him it was normal? 

"Right." You got out of the bed in a flash and he stared at you wondering what he'd done wrong when you told him to leave, that you wanted him out of the apartment before you got out of the bathroom, 

"Why!? I didn't-"

"Exactly, this has been going on for 5 months and you haven't done anything. Jungkook I can't keep doing this, I'm the bad guy here." You said to him, tears spilling down your face as you looked at him. You wanted him yo see how you felt about all of this, that it was tearing you apart inside to know what you were doing to his wife. 

"I've been on the other side of this, it's not nice. You need to tell her or we stop." You folded your arms across your chest, you were serious about this now that you weren't going to joke about it. 

"Y/n-"

"Jungkook please, knowing what we're doing...It hurts me." He looked at you and nodded his head, he stood up and began packing his things. That was all it took, you turned our back on him and walked into the bathroom running the taps so he couldn't hear you bursting into tears while he walked away as if all of this had meant nothing to him.

"I told you he'd leave," Jisoo said a week later when she finally decided to come back to you. She was going to say sorry for everything she'd said when she found you crying in your bed, you looked like you hadn't showered in days so that was the first thing she'd forced you into. 

"I thought he loved me." You whimpered throwing the spoon down into the empty ice cream tub in front of you and rolling your head onto her lap. She was playing with your hair while you waited for the pizza to get there, 

"I know babes and I-" She stopped when the doorbell sounded, she took the money from the table and left you there to wallow alone for a couple of seconds. 

"Thanks- Oh. Hello. What do you want?!" You snapped up when you heard her tone change, you looked through the door of the living room to see Jungkook at the door covered in sweat and panting heavily. 

"Kook?" You got up from the sofa but Jisso wouldn't let you near him not until she knew what his angle was and what he was attempting to get out of coming to you tonight.

"Jisoo please, I left her. I filed papers, I've signed everything and I left her." Your eyes widened as you heard the words leaving his mouth, he left her? After all this time of promising you? He left her just like that and came straight to you. 

"How do we know it's true?" Jisoo was speaking on your behalf and you were thankful for it because you would have taken him at his word and thrown yourself all over him.

"I've been moving out all week, I'm in a new place which is why I'm here...I wanted to take Y/n there," Your heart was racing at the thought of just running off with him but again Jisoo stood in your way.

"She's not free tonight, she's free tomorrow though and she'll be home by 11 pm." Jungkook nodding willing to do anything to get on Jisoo's side, she may have been 4''11 but she was 4''11 of pure anger and torture whenever you made her mad you. 

"Yes, Ma'am." He glanced at you over in the back of the living room and smiled, you pointed up to your bedroom window and he nodded winking at you. 

"If she catches me here your curfew will be cut," You groaned at him as he threw himself onto the safe side of your balcony, once he was there you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. 

"You really left her? For me?" He cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb under your eye - he knew you'd been crying he could tell by the bloodshot eyes and the tissues all around your bedroom. 

"I told you I would and I meant that there's no one else in the world for me. It's always going to be you." He whispered kissing your cheeks before laying a romantic kiss on your lips. The kind that made your ties curl and your heart beat rapidly.

"What if you stayed for the night?" He shook his head at you pointing at the door,

"Jisoo catches me and I am beyond dead. I'll see you tomorrow. I promise." He kissed your lips one last time before climbing back down your balcony and over to his car across the road. 

"Did he leave yet?!" Jisoo asked from outside your door, now wanting details on everything that had happened when he snuck up to see you.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lynnthevirgo @lyoongx @snowy-meowl @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @callingmyangel @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​

[renegade-skywalker]

still living rent-free in my head at all times are Atton and the Jedi Exile...

---

It was strange being on a ship like this - small, cozy, meant for shipping cargo instead of armies. Eden's room on the Harbinger had been devoid of any home-like comforts, and while this hunk of junk lacked any finesse, something about the ship’s exposed parts grounded her, settling her nerves. She ran her hand along the vessel’s unfinished walls, almost tasting its metal tang in her mind, as she made her way back to the cockpit, comforted by its imperfections.

The ship was modest, boasting only two dormitories and a cramped common area that also shared square footage with the ship’s lone refresher. Something about it seemed familiar, lived-in, though Eden knew she had never been on a ship like this. It was as if she had seen it in a dream.

“How’s she doing?” Atton’s voice crept from the cockpit, sensing Eden’s presence as she approached. Eden smirked, wondering if her footfalls were really that heavy as she daydreamt.

“Surprisingly well for someone who just lost a hand,” Eden said as she entered the cockpit proper, watching her own left hand as she flexed it in and out of a fist. “Not like you’d care, though. Right?”

“Heh, true,” Atton mumbled, still fussing with the ship’s controls. “Of course the only space-worthy ship on that sorry ball of magma would be twenty years old, and rigged to boot. This thing is a relic, you know that?”

“What makes you say that?” Eden asked as she sidled up alongside the navigational chart, glowing white-green as it enticed her towards its map. The display was outdated, she had to give Atton that, but nearly everything she’d come into contact with on Tatooine in the last few years would have been considered ‘old’ by industry standards. “Rigged, I mean, not old. Old is obvious.”

Atton glanced at Eden over his shoulder, his eyebrows shooting up across his forehead, disappearing into his hair, as he allowed himself a brief moment of surprise. Eden smirked. She’d only known the guy a few standard hours and already she had developed a hobby of catching him off-guard.

“The commands, mostly,” he said eventually, turning back to the console, “Most ships have standard commands depending on the make, but this one seems to have been coded in a specific key. It’s not impossible to decipher but it’s annoying, to say the least.”

“Coded?”

“Common in drug-running, it’s a defense tactic of sorts. Instead of an alarm system to alert the authorities, it's meant to dissuade anyone from flying it at all by making it complicated. That, and it’s meant to reroute system logs so it’s harder for anyone snooping around to access the ship’s navigational history. Hey, while you’re over there, do you mind-?”

“On it,” Eden confirmed, already keying in a sequence. But the map before her only jolted, as if glitching momentarily. She tried again. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Atton affirmed, turning full in his chair this time. “Have you tried-?”

Eden typed in another sequence and looked at Atton again, shrugging more emphatically.

“Like I said, nothing.”

Atton slumped in his chair, looking at the screen from his vantage point, baffled. “Weird.”

Turning around again, Atton began typing furiously away at the pilot’s console, muttering to himself as he made quick calculations and tested other sequencing commands, inputting codes and apparently coming up empty judging by the unintelligible syllables that escaped his mouth in response.

“I thought you said it wasn’t weird for drug-running vessels to do that?”

“It isn’t, it’s just… the system would have given you an error code, or something. The fact that nothing happened is weird. We’ll have to try some back-end codes if we have any chance of unlocking the nav chart, but we can worry about that later. Or not at all, since I plan on taking the next transport off Telos as soon as we land. If that’s even an option.”

“You and me both,” Eden said, still playing with the galaxy map, marveling at the expanse of it all. It had been a while since she’d traveled, and longer since she considered how big the galaxy even was. “Any idea where you’d want to disappear?”

“Disappear?” Atton tensed at that, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he adjusted his ribbed jacket. Eden expected Atton would want to leave as many lightyears between him and whatever had landed him on Peragus as he could manage, but maybe there was more to the story.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said after a few beats, trying to act cavalier. “I have a few places in mind, though sharing them with you kind of defeats the purpose of vanishing without a trace.”

Atton glanced back at Eden, his eyes wide before he snapped his attention back to the console computer again, muttering, “No offense, or anything.”

Eden laughed lightly, the feeling almost alien given everything that had happened of late. Quickly quieting, she bit her lip and allowed herself a breath before picking up the conversation again, oddly at ease.

“None taken,” she said, “No witness, no crime, right?”

“Something like that,” Atton laughed, though a clear sense of uncertainty laced his voice. “Though I’d argue all three of us are just as guilty of blowing up the entire economy of this sector. I flew the ship, sure, but it was only to save all our skins.”

“I appreciate that,” Eden said, “Though I’d counter and say that Kreia’s assailant is to blame more than the three of us.”

“Hah, right. Try telling that to the Republic officers that eventually arrest us at the ends of the universe for the impending fuel crisis of the century.” At this Atton truly laughed, the weight of what had just happened finally sinking in. “Shit.”

“Well, it’s not the first time I was responsible for something that would affect the entire galaxy for decades to come,” Eden sighed, her finger lingering over the green dot the chart labeled Dxun - moon, quickly changing the subject before Atton could question whether she was being earnest or not. “So what do you think this ship was used for before we hijacked it?”

“Drug-running, I’m guessing, but I doubt Kreia had anything to do with that. Though I’m curious…”

“Curious about what?”

“How someone like her would acquire a ship like this.”

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Eden shrugged as she finally abandoned the navigational chart and sunk into the co-pilot’s chair. “An old woman looking for any means of solo transport with little money? You see the way she dresses, I doubt she has a fortune at her disposal. I’m sure a spice runner with a price on their head would part with as few credits as they could spare if it meant an easy way to dispose of their crime-history-addled ship.”

Atton made a face at this, considering her logic, but did not tear his eyes away from the pilot’s console as he continued to type away.

“I guess the only thing I’m left wondering is whether Sleeps-With-Vibroblades was on her tail before or after this ship’s acquisition,” Atton laughed at his own joke. “So… what happened?”

Atton didn’t tear his eyes away from the screen but only gestured to her vaguely. Eden paused, looking down at herself, confused, and back up at Atton again.

“To what?”

Atton tsked.

“Don’t give me that. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So - where’s yours?”

Eden narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in utter confusion as she wondered how Atton went from how Kreia came in possession of this ship to… lightsabers. The fact that Atton couldn’t see her facial journey to better understand her bafflement didn’t help, either.

“Let’s leave my lightsaber out of this,” Eden sighed, “It’s a long story.”

“Oh? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber. Guess I heard wrong,” he quipped, acting coy.

Eden rolled her eyes.

“So, were you a single-hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?”

Now Eden knew that Atton wasn’t only preoccupying himself with the ship’s unique code language for the sake of deciphering it but was also using it as a means to avoid her gaze while he asked the usual questions other spacers did upon suspecting her affiliation with the Order. Typical.

“Double,” she answered dishonestly after a beat, watching Atton side-long for his reaction.

“Hm,” he said, unexcitingly, “I hear the twin blades are harder to master, but they can make enemies stampede over each other running for cover.”

Eden crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes now as she watched Atton do his best to appear nonchalant, truly annoyed with him now.

“You know quite a bit about Jedi for being so averse to them,” Eden accused, but Atton only snorted in response.

“I fought in the war, remember? It was hard not to notice,” Atton said, “I saw a lot of Jedi use double-bladed sabers first-hand, gave them more slaughter per swing.”

Eden winced, unhappy to have the memory revived in her mind’s eye at the mention of it.

“You didn’t go red, did you?”

Eden wanted to roll her eyes again, but instead she paused, a wicked smile taking over her face.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere. "Redder than a laigrek’s eye.”

Atton jolted out of whatever he was doing to avoid her gaze and actually jumped in his seat, and Eden couldn’t hold her serious expression long enough to relish in the longer con she’d planned the moment the words passed her lips.

“Maker, you’re pathetic,” she laughed, “What color saber do you think I had? I’m curious if you can guess correctly, Mr. ‘I Drink and I Know Things’”

Atton smiled unsurely, trying to appear in on the joke despite the fact that Eden had actually managed to startle him.

“Lemme see,” he said, affording her an honest glance after gathering his wits. Atton looked her up and down, assessing what he could of her upper half that was visible to him from the pilot’s chair with an expression of mock intrigue, an idle hand stroking his non-existent beard in thought. “I’d say green, but that might just be because your eyes are green, so I’m gonna nix that guess and say… blue. No - yellow.”

Eden only raised her eyebrows in response, crossing her arms even tighter over her chest.

“Purple? Violet? I dunno, those colors are the same, right?” Atton asked, shaking his head. “Are there… more colors? Sith are easy to guess, but Jedi--”

It’s was cerulean, she thought with an internal laugh, realizing the inanity of it. Neither blue nor green, but pale and somewhere in between. Single hilt but dual wielded. Both her long and her short sword were the same shade of pale seafoam, wanting to emulate Kavar’s blue saber, truest blue as the Guardian he was, but also green in honor of her brother and her then-Master, Atris, the only Master willing to teach her then, even if it was as an Historian, a role that wholly did not suit her.

“Wouldn’t you know? I thought you fought alongside the Jedi.”

Eden was calling him out now, but Atton only laughed, trying to buy himself time while he thought of another witty comeback, ultimately failing.

“Well, whatever color it was, sure would be nice to have it now. Might make those Sith think twice before coming after us.”

Eden shook her head, even if she understood where a spacer like Atton was coming from.

“A lightsaber wouldn’t make a difference, trust me,” Eden relented. “Sure it’s better than a blaster, but it would only put more of a target on our backs.”

Atton paused, really considering Eden now as he soaked in her words, perhaps surprised by her response.

“Fine, forget I said anything.” Atton turned away from her after a moment, shaking his head. “Better get comfortable, though. It’s a few days’ ride to Telos. We’re not out of this just yet.”

Eden nodded, turning the co-pilot’s seat all the way around to view the hallway behind her. Her eyes traced the piping on the walls as they led into the dark, where the passage turned slightly before opening up to the security room, wondering what Kreia was doing now in the dormitory she had claimed.

“No, we’re not,” Eden affirmed, her eyes still fixed on the shadow of the hall, but her mind far away, stuck somewhere between the past and present. She wondered what had become of her twin sabers, if either still remained. One, she’d left at Alek’s feet. The other she’d staked into the hideous statue at the center of the Coruscant Council chamber. “Not by a long shot.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Lost time (Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

A/N:  In honor of the premiere of the second season of Umbrella Academy  we have something ... I don't know, I just wanted to write and share this hahaha. I hope you like it- Val

Words: 2,765

"Why is it so difficult for you to admit that you’re still in love with him?" Allison asks with a funny smile.

"Because that, dear friend, would be lying,” I point out sitting down in front of her on the bed. She laughs.

"Oh come on Y/ N, we’re no longer thirteen, when you blushed every time someone said his name,” She scoffs and I roll my eyes.

"It was just a stupid teenage crush, Al," I sigh. "And what about you?" I argue back.

"Me what?" She says nervously.

"Where's Luther?"

"No, don't try to change the subject, you cheater–”

I laugh and shake my head.

"That song is already over, I don't feel anything for Diego, at least not like I used to.”

I lie in bed and sigh as I remember when we were 13 years old.

The boys at Umbrella Academy were very famous, all my classmates knew about them from the comics and the news, but nobody knew them in person, only me. Living close to the academy, I could hear how they laughed, played or trained.

Right on their thirteenth birthday, Allison, Klaus, Diego, and Five planned to leave the academy without their father knowing. That day I met them.

The four of them entered my parents' shop, a well-known bakery. That afternoon I was helping out at the cash register. Allison was very kind, Klaus looked adoringly at the cookie decorations on the counter, Diego stuttered when he saw me, and Five looked around him in detail.

To their bad luck, some children recognized them before I could give them their order. Without realizing it, the store was already full of guys asking for their autographs. My father had to get them out and try to control the situation, while I guided them to the back of the store. My father didn’t have the best attitude and knew he wouldn’t help them.

I knew all the streets in the neighborhood by heart, so it was easy to lose the crowd. On the way back to the academy, I got to know them better. Allison and I connected quickly, I was amused by Klaus's funny comments, Five's sarcastic attitude and I was touched by Diego's shyness, which changed when he had more confidence.

Later, I picked up his order and went to the academy to deliver it with a small note, which I hid very well.

'I hope to see you soon.’

"Girls," says Luther, entering Allison's room. I sit up in bed watching the big man's worried expression.

"What's going on?" Allison asks.

"We can't find Klaus.”

"Again?" I raise an eyebrow. Klaus was clearly not a person standing still. "Surely he’s with his dealer, or in a club.”

Luther shakes his head. "Five already looked for him everywhere and nobody has seen him.”

I sigh and get out of bed, and the three of us walk out of the big Hargreeves Mansion, across from Allison's car. Five appears next to me, scaring me a little. I can never get used to his teleportation power.

"Any clues?"

"We just have to search the streets" answers Allison.

"Look at you, worried about your little brother," I say to Five with a laugh and he rolls his eyes.

"If he's just taking drugs, I'll kill him," He replies and then gets in the car. I follow him in the back, Allison drives and Luther is co-pilot.

We searched for Klaus for several hours, but we couldn't find anything. We asked some people, but we're just wasting time, until my phone rings. A message from Vania.

‘I found Klaus, but I need your help.’

Then she sends me his location and I give it to Allison.

When we arrived at the place, the sun was already setting. We all get out of the car and see Vanya on the sidewalk.

"And well?" Five asks her.

"They saw him come in there," she says, pointing to the end of an alley behind her.

We looked out, everything was dark and you could only see a white door at the end, but everything made sense when feeling the vibration of the music.

“Great."

"How did you know it's here?"

"My contacts saw it," says another voice.

Diego comes out of the shadows looking at us with a smug smile. At that I feel a slight push to my right.

"Shut up,” I whisper to Allison, although I also say it to my heart, which is beating so harshly I fear will be heard by the others.

Diego fixes his gaze on me, but I lower my head avoiding his eyes.

"I guess I will have to kill him," adds Five.

Luther opens the great door to the club. I narrow my eyes when the colored lights hit my face, but even as I get used to the change, my eyes can't believe that so many people are gathered in this place. Finding Klaus won't be easy.

"We better split up," says Luther, looking at us. "Allison, you will come with me on the right, Five and Vanya in the center, Diego and Y/N, you on the right," before anyone could reply, Luther enters followed by Allison.

"Stay close," Diego whispers in my ear, causing a chill throughout my body, I ignore my reaction and follow him.

It’s difficult to walk among so many people and on several occasions I almost lose sight of Diego, until a huge man staggers behind me and hits my foot, causing me to trip, but before I could fall, Diego's strong arms hold me.

"You're good?" He yells at me above the music. His arm wraps around my waist and his other hand touches my cheek. I nod and pull away from his grasp feeling my cheeks burn. I hope the lights hide it. Diego smiles sideways when he notices but says nothing.

He turns to continue, but not before taking my hand tightly. Unable to avoid a smile, I intertwine our fingers and walk close to him.

For a few minutes we could only walk aimlessly, until I fixed my eyes on the bar to my left. A slim man with tattoos, a skirt and a colorful shirt is dancing on the bar.

I stop and give Diego's hand a squeeze, he turns and I point to the highly drugged Klaus. As we get closer we notice that around Klaus, a group of people are making fun of him and clapping for him to continue dancing. The boy doesn't seem to be aware of this and follows the rhythm of the music until he sees us and smiles.

With difficulty he kneels on the wood of the bar.

"Guys! You’re finally together!” He shouts, pointing at our clasped hands, I follow his gaze and when Diego and I realize what he's talking about, we all jump apart. Klaus laughs and raises his arms. "Long live love!"

"Klaus, come on, get down from there,” I say approaching. He laughs again.

"Come with me, Y/N. it's so much fun here.”

"Get down from there, brother. Before you break your neck,” Diego repeats when he sees Klaus wobble a little.

"I don't want to,” He pouts and returns to me. "Tell your boyfriend not to be bossy.” I roll my eyes.

"Hey," says another thicker voice. A huge guy -perhaps the size of Luther- approaches us. His tattooed arms tighten on his chest. "You can't take our big star," he says mockingly.

"Uh, sir… Sorry, but we have to,” I say as kindly as I can, ignoring the fear in my voice.

The man steps forward and I step back. Who wouldn’t? This guy can break me in seconds and use me as a stick.

"Wow, stop there, King Kong,” says Diego standing in front of me. "Your star has to go. He's my brother, not a stunt.”

I walk away a little, letting Diego distract the mastodon and return to Klaus.

“Klausy, darling, please come down from there.”

"But I’m having fun!”

I growl at his childish attitude, I know this may take time and Klaus will either stay the same or try to run away. I look to my right and now the big guy wants to face Diego.

“Shit," in that an idea comes to me. “Klaus!” I called out to him and he watches me as he drinks from his glass -which I didn't know he had- "I promise as soon as we get home, I'll make you waffles!" His eyes lit up. Bingo.

"The ones I love?"

“Until you can't eat anymore, but please get down from there. We have to go.”

He nods and staggers off the bar. He puts his arm around my shoulders and part of his weight falls on me.

"And what will you do about it, pretty boy?" I hear that the man, still talking with Diego.

"Oh, I'll show you," He replies, pulling a knife from his harness. With Klaus on me I drag him towards them.

"Hey, we don't have to go on with this fight!” They both stop, but they don't take their eyes off each other. "Come on, uh, huge man,” I continue nervously. "You don't want to dirty your... nice tattoos with this boy's blood!" It seems that it distracts them and now they watch me.

"What are you saying, girl?"

I push Klaus a little to cix his posture, who is still in his own world. “Please, it shows that you’re a– uh… professional, and surely you have had a hard week. You came here to have fun, not to destroy the body of a boy in disguise.”

I know my words are going to bother Diego, but now I'm only interested in leaving here with the two brothers. The guy observes Diego's outfit and laughs out loud.

"You may be right, girl.”

"Sure I am," I laugh nervously. "Just look at it, who wears a harness and leather these days?" The man laughs again and turns around, surely to mock him with his friends, but I take this as an opportunity to walk away. I see Diego, who is frowning.

“Diego," I call him and he looks at me. "Come on," I wave to him and he nods, taking Klaus's body from my shoulders.

The three of us walk towards the exit without looking back. I sigh in relief as I feel the fresh air in my face.

"That was close."

"What a fun night, we should repeat it, Diego,” says Klaus looking towards a wall. I look at Diego and he stares blankly.

“Diego?”

The presence of the others distract us. Allison hugs Klaus, Luther and Vanya scolds him and Five threatens him with death... again.

"Hey, stop yelling at me!” He pouts and turns to see me. "Can we eat Waffles now? You promised.”

It seems that this caught the attention of others and I tell them what happened - omitting Diego's humiliation. They laugh, but all like the idea of ​​waffles.

We divided ourselves between Allison's car and Diego's and we all returned to the academy. As soon as we arrive, we go to the kitchen -except Diego- who goes up to his old room.

Grace helps me make dessert and we all eat happily. The Hargreeves siblings tell stories, joke and quarrel from time to time, but I can't stop thinking about what happened at the club. When I think no one notices, I get up, put two waffles on a plate and leave the kitchen.

I climb the stairs and stop outside Diego's room. I knock on his door and wait. When I don't get an answer I decide to enter, finding the room empty. I sigh and put the plate on the nightstand, I go into the small place, but the sound of the door makes me jump.

I turn and see Diego shirtless and his hair wet. For a moment, my words get stuck in my throat.

“Can I help you?" Normally he would make fun of me, but his tone is sharp and annoyed. He walks to his closet ignoring me.

"Diego, what I said at the club–”

"You would’ve told me before, I know that," he growls without looking at me.

 My heart shrinks when listening to it, it's been a while since I heard it. I work very hard to avoid it.

"No, that's not what I meant."

He turns and confronts me with his arms crossed.

"I don't want to know, Y/N.”

"Everything I said is not true, Diego. I only said it so that the man wouldn't hurt us, it wasn't my intention to hurt you.”

He snorts and comes closer.

"You didn’t do it.”

"I like your costume,” I feel my cheeks burn. "although it’s a little strange, but…”

"But?" The anger disappears from his face. I roll my eyes.

"I said those things so the man wouldn't kill us, okay? You don't have to get upset,” I cross my arms. He laughs and I look at him confused. “What?"

"I didn't remember how easy it was to make you blush,” ​​I blush. Again.

“Classic, first you get mad at me and now you make tease, you’ve always been like this, since we were children.”

“You haven’t changed either. Always getting us out of trouble, when in reality we’re the biggest problem.” We both laugh.

"They keep me busy," I shrug. Diego goes to a wardrobe and takes out a black shirt and then puts it on. I almost pout. Almost.

"You know? When we were kids I had a huge crush on you,” He says, turning his back on me. And while he searches among his things I am having a breakdown.

"What?"

"Yes" He chuckles. "I thought you were pretty and you always supported us in our adventures, but that was a long time ago…”

What? He liked me? I can't believe Allison was right, that she's always been right.

“A-And now?" I ask approaching him.

"What?" He turns around and jumps a little at the proximity.

"Do you have feelings for me now?"

I look directly into his eyes and see a cute blush on his cheeks.

"Uh, I don’t– I don't know.”

“Where’s that confidence of yours, Diego?" I smirk and he smiles. "I had a crush on you too," I whisper.

I don't let him answer and I lean up to kiss him. Diego kisses me back almost immediately, then I feel his hands wrap around my waist to get closer to his body and I wrap mine around his neck.

“Wait…” He whispers, pulling away a little. “Why do you like me?"

I frown.

"Why not?”

“I thought that… I don't know, I thought you would want some other, one of my brothers or another boy. I just stuttered and trained with my knives, I didn't-"

"I always thought your stuttering was adorable, plus you put a lot of effort into everything you worked on, you keep doing it,” I support my hands on his chest. "Your brothers I get along very well. It's different with you.”

He leans in and puts our foreheads together.

"I'm a jerk for waiting so long," He says, making me laugh.

"We are."

I kiss him again, but this time with more intensity. Then I feel his arms on my legs, he helps me jump and I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Wow, those waffles are magical."

I jump away from Diego at hearing the voice. We both turn to the door only to find his siblings are standing in the hall, the door wide open.

"It was about time,” adds Five drinking from his cup of coffee.

Again I feel my cheeks burn.

"I knew it," says Allison.

"Alright, the show ended, get out!” says Diego and they complain.

“Be safe!" Klaus yells as he closes the door.

When we’re finally alone, Diego carries me again, we began to laugh and I hide my face in his neck, I feel his chest vibrate with laughter.

"Only they can find us like this…” I move away a little and reconnect my gaze with his.

"Maybe next time it won't be in this position," He answers, raising his eyebrows making me laugh.

Before I could answer, he walks over to the bed and throws us into it. I squeal in surprise, but laugh again feeling his weight on me, not hurting me. Diego adjusts himself by leaning his arms to the sides of my head.

"Ready to make up for lost time?"

“I’m ready.”

[absolutelyinvinciblebritishgent]

What if the Sound Trio survived and became Leaf ninjas?

Headcanons under the cut (bitch, it’s a lot of headcanons)

~ Chunin Exam Finals/Invasion~

Dosu was shown to be suspicious of Orochimaru because of the whole Sasuke/curse mark thing and seemed like he wasn’t wanting to be a part of Orochimaru’s shit anymore so he’s the one who realizes something is up

Rather than face Gaara he somehow finds out about sand’s allegiance with sound (overhearing Baki and Kabuto on the way to Gaara, eavesdropping on Orochimaru [because, again, sus], etc...) and that’s what pushes him to defect from sound (also how he manages to live)

Dosu, Zaku, and Kin aren’t necessarily close, but in the anime Dosu did sort of say he was gonna get revenge on behalf of Zaku for what happened to his arms so there is a sense of something there (whether it be friendship, camaraderie, or just wanting to stick together to survive... idk) and Dosu tells his teammates what’s up and convinces them that they gotta GTFO

Zaku is a little more difficult to convince because why would Orochimaru do that to him? He saved Zaku from being a street rat, he gave Zaku power

Dosu ain’t having it and is like “if you wish to stay behind then that is your decision, in the end it is better for us to not have to carry any dead weight” (obviously referring to Zaku’s inability to do anything because of his arms)

Dosu then proceeds to tell Zaku how he no longer serves a purpose without his arms and he was nice enough to still want to take Zaku with him, Orochimaru would not be so kind

Zaku is upset because he knows Dosu has a point and they all leave

They (read: Dosu) decide that their best chance of survival is staying in Konoha because, the minute they leave, the sound village/Orochimaru will be gunning for their asses and also they’d be missing-nin, so others would try to kill them too

But what can they do to assure they don’t get imprisoned or killed due to having worked under Orochimaru? Rat out the sound village and give all the information they know/found out about the invasion and sand’s involvement

Third Hokage is a cool dude and also was Orochimaru’s teacher so he knows the kind of power this bitch can have over people which is why he agrees to let the sound trio stay and have them watched by Anbu

Dosu does not participate in the chunin exam finals because witness protection, or something

The invasion still happens because Orochimaru ain’t stupid. His “pawns” are nowhere to be found so it’s likely they’re betraying him, so obviously he makes changes to the plan

Dosu, Kin, and Zaku do not participate in fighting off the invasion because, uh, super strict house arrest orders???

Third Hokage dies and this FREAKS the trio out because a) oh shit Orochimaru actually did it and b) we’re only allowed to be here because of him, so what’s going to happen to us

Council is deciding what to do with them and has them staying hidden/as they were, but what’s more important to them is finding Tsunade and having her take over as Hokage so the trio are just anxiously chilling

Tsunade is Hokage now and she decides to let them stay because they turned their backs on Orochimaru and also she trusts Sarutobi’s judgment on letting them stay initially, but they are still going to be watched by Anbu to be sure

Naruto and co. find out about the trio and they are PISSED because “not only did you try to kill Sasuke, not only are you from the village that attacked us, not only did you work for Orochimaru but you did nothing to defend Konoha during the invasion. If you want to be a part of this village then you should have helped”

Tsunade tells these bitches to simmer down. They were under Anbu house arrest. She’s Hokage and they need to respect her decision. Also Zaku, let’s fix your arms.

~Sasuke Retrieval Arc~

Everyone is immediately on the trio’s ass because “we knew you couldn’t be trusted”

Tsunade has to tell everyone to stfu again

The trio want to go (to prove themselves) and feel they can be of assistance but Tsunade is like Catherine of Aragon because she says there’s no no no no NO WAY. It’s already a dangerous mission, it might be more so for them because Orochimaru is probably after their heads for betraying him and knows all of their skills

Everything about the arc is the same until the point where Shikamaru, Kiba, and Lee need help. Instead of the Sand Siblings being the ones to arrive it’s the sound trio

Zaku saves Kiba... mainly because I imagine them being friends once the trio are accepted and I just want this to be the beginning of their friendship. How he saves him idk because I’m not creative when it comes to fights

Kin saves Shikamaru. Again idk how. Zaku’s slicing sounds waves make more sense here because they work similar to Temari’s fan but I want it to be Kin because kunoichi vs. kunoichi, genjutsu vs. genjutsu, and also the idea of Kin saving the guy who beat her in such an embarrassing way does something to me, but also is a sort of redemption? I just want this battle to show off how skilled Kin can be because she was very underutilized and kinda weak in the original story and I love her so much, she deserves to do cool shit. So let her outsmart Tayuya and, in a way, she is outsmarting Shikamaru because he had no more plans to fall back on

Dosu saves Lee. Again, idk how and, again, I think Zaku’s slicing sound waves would be better here because they can keep Kimimaro (a close range fighter) at bay but I guess seeing Dosu and Kimimaro throwing hands would be cool. And then you have that redemption moment with Lee because Dosu kicked his ass in the forest of death and now he’s saving Lee!

After the mission, despite its failure, the trio are accepted as leaf shinobi and are introduced to their new sensei: cue Anko crashing through the window with a big sign introducing herself again

Similarly to the moment when Naruto spoke out and Anko threw a kunai at him, Zaku gives a snide comment and Anko is immediately at his throat, and then she’s like “JK! But don’t say that again you little shit!”

Anko was chosen to lead the trio due to her past with Orochimaru and because of that she can better understand them

~Other Headcanons~

It took the Konoha 12 a while to accept the trio. The first ones to accept them were Kiba, Lee, and Shikamaru (duh) but also Choji and even Naruto. Choji became cool with them when he found out Shikamaru was cool with them because he trusts Shikamaru’s judgment, and despite originally trying to kill his teammate, Naruto accepts them because they came out and helped so that means they’re a-okay in his book. Neji was slightly taken aback but also accepted them pretty quickly. Basically, the retrieval team was like “yeah okay” and vouch for them.

The ones who took the longest to come around were Ino and Sakura because did y’all just forget what happened at the forest of death???

As I said, I imagine Kiba and Zaku being friends. Mainly because I feel they have similar personalities in the sense that they’re both pretty cocky, boisterous, and talk shit. I imagine them kinda being like rivals in the sense of they’re always trying to one up each other

Zaku is still not fond of Shino because of the whole bugs in arms thing so whenever Shino is around Zaku is just like “I hate your teammate” to Kiba

Kin/Shikamaru could potentially replace the Temari/Shikamaru relationship. Both Kin and Temari are very similar in the sense of being an ex-villain, being viewed as scarier/more intense compared to the Konoha girls, being older by a couple years, and they both lost (well, Temari technically won but we all know she lost) to Shikamaru. Because of this the Kin/Shikamaru relationship wouldn’t be all that different to how the Temari/Shikamaru relationship is shown

That being said I love the sand siblings and don’t want them gone and because of how similar I feel Kin and Temari are they become really good friends and Kin enjoys when Temari visits. They both make Shikamaru’s life hell though. Double Trouble™️

Also I said potentially because I like exploring the idea of Kin/Zaku or Kin/Dosu (:

Dosu and Shino actually get along really well (much to the dismay of Zaku). They’re the type of people where they can sit in silence with each other and it’s just chill. And when they have to work together they kinda have flawless teamwork and don’t even need to speak to know what the other plans on doing

Kin and Sakura actually get along now? They’re not best friends by any means but they can be civil and respect each other

Team Kurenai and Team Sand are the teams that the trio get along with the best/most easily tho

Kin cut her hair to her lower back. Cue everyone cracking jokes about Neji and Kin looking the same from behind. Kin stops tying her hair after that

The trio have really well trained ears because back in Otogakure they had to learn to pick up on the subtlest of sounds in order to spy on enemies and communicate at such a low volume that to any normal ear sounds like silence but to them the message is loud and clear

Because of this they’re all amazing singers (Dosu is the best tho because he has the best trained ear. Seriously, being able to tell what someone is writing based on the sounds of their pencil? Skills.) and everyone likes hearing them sing.

That being said, despite being from the land of sound they didn’t actually know any songs because the sound village doesn’t really do music. It was forbidden because no one is allowed joy in the land of sound. Jk. But it did have to do with depriving people of normalcy because Orochimaru was creating an army of followers

This little singing/music tidbit was discovered by Naruto and he took it upon himself to show the trio music. It wasn’t all good music, but it’s music!

Also, despite being the best singer, Dosu doesn’t really do it. Dude doesn’t even hum. He’ll only sing if Kin and Zaku start pestering or if Anko wants him to

The first (and only) time Kin and Zaku saw Dosu cry was shortly after they became leaf shinobi. Anko and Tsunade were telling the team how brave it was for them to leave Orochimaru and sound behind, and Anko especially complimented Dosu on taking him and his team out of that situation. Kin and Zaku had been trying to hold back tears and keep up their tough image but the minute they saw Dosu crying, not trying to wipe away his tears or hide them or anything they lost it

No one talks about their little crying session. It’s a secret

Despite getting his arms fixed by Tsunade, Zaku still has problems with them, especially his right one (I think that’s the one that got blown off) and needs to get them treated consistently. Partly due to the fact they he didn’t give himself all the time to heal after Tsunade fixed him because he went to help the retrieval team and, mainly, because of Orochimaru’s experiments. Like, essentially Zaku’s air tube surgery was actually kind of botched and, for lack of a better term, experimental, and is fucking with the nerves and muscles and chakra in his arms and kinda eating away at them. And the crazy damage he took from getting his arms blown off only fucked everything up more

Eventually Zaku gets a better version of his air tube in his left arm and has to completely replace the right arm with a cool prosthetic that lets him do stronger/cooler jutsus

Kin has combined singing with her genjutsu and has created a sort of mind control jutsu... I may or may not have gotten this idea while listening to Come Little Children and remembering that Sarah Sanderson would control kids with song

The trio think Sasuke is a fUCKING DUMBASS for willingly going with Orochimaru. Like, bitch we had to leave that no good asshole for the betterment of our lives and you just waltz out of Konoha and straight into his arms?! What is you doing Uchiha?!

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter fourteen: i should’ve stayed in bed

part fifteen of sudden desire

masterlist

synopsis: moving on.

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy & loss

word count: 2k

Marcus is smiling, warm and sweet as always, as he leans against the doorway of her bedroom.

She’s yet to notice he’s there. He’d let himself in a couple of minutes earlier, like he always does, expecting to see her on the couch or in the kitchen, like he always does, but she hadn’t been there. He’d almost thought she wasn’t home, until she’d heard the quiet humming coming from down the hallway.

The sweet sounds lead him to Coraline’s bedroom.

She sits at her dresser, makeup half-finished, a pale silk dress hanging from her wardrobe, ready to be slipped into. Her eyes are wide as she swipes mascara over her lashes, lost in heady concentration and Radiohead playing over the room’s speakers. She hums along, listening idly to the lyrics as she takes her time getting ready. Coraline sets down her mascara, slips her glasses onto her nose and picks up her tube of lipstick; just as she’s about to press the colour against her lips, puckering them almost comically into the mirror, Marcus knocks his foot against the doorframe, once, twice, three times, and laughs at the utterly ridiculous (and adorable, completely and undeniably adorable) faces she makes as she stares at her reflection in the mirror.

The tube of lipstick clatters against the vanity table and she whirls on him, brandishing her mascara in his direction like some kind of makeshift makeup sword. She yelps as she spins on her heels. She gasps once she sees it’s only him, relieved that she’s not about to be murdered in the comfort of her own home. “Marcus.” Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, her hand pressed firm over her heart. She slumps back down into the chair she’d leapt from.

He’s frustratingly handsome like this - in his work suit, dishevelled in the best possible way, his jacket tapered perfectly against the lines of his torso. Long legs stretch out before him, one leg tucked over the other. Marcus crosses his arms and leans back against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow in amusement as she glares at him over the wire rim of her glasses.

“Boo.” He hums.

He’s tired. She can tell in the thickness of his voice, the heavy lethargy of his limbs. Work and loss is taking its toll on him - just as it is on her - and, though it’s getting better now, it still weighs upon his shoulders when he wakes every morning.

“Huh, no shit, Marcus,” Coraline groans, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and turning back to the mirror with a scoff. She drops the makeshift mascara sword and picks back up her lipstick. “How long have you been standing there?” She smiles at him over her shoulder, warm and gentle, inviting him in.

He gives a coy shrug. “Long enough,” he poses, “I was just admiring the view.”.

Coraline’s lips quirk into a smirk as she scoffs and rolls her eyes. What a line. Marcus’ fond smile grows, affection radiating from the FBI Agent like he’s the sun. “I hope you saw something you liked,” she counters.

Marcus narrows his eyes a little. He scrubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Hmm, well-”

“Asshole,” she gasps. She can’t help but mirror his amused grin, though, when he steps further into her bedroom, into the lamplight that bathes his golden skin in warmth. “What are you doing here?” Her words come tipped with a chuckle when he’s behind her - lingering, half-desperate and completely fucking exhausted - pushes her hair away from her shoulder and drops a kiss to the exposed part of her shoulder. “I thought you were working late?”

The intimacy of it all has become so familiar now that, despite their agreement coming to an end, the kisses seem part of their relationship, now. It’s comfortable. Coraline craves the warmth of his lips against her skin; she has a feeling he feels the same way, too.

“Rough day,” he murmurs against her skin, lips brushing softly over her. His hands grip at her hips, fingers dipping slightly beneath the thin material of her shirt. “Wanted to see you.” He pulls back to meet her gaze in the mirror. “Selfish, I know. You’re getting ready.”

“I don’t mind.” She hums. Coraline drops her head back against his shoulder, turning so her nose brushes the sharp line of his stubble-covered jaw. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Marcus huffs out a sigh. He buries his face into her warmth. “Not really.” He just can’t let her go. “Just-” he sighs. “-just wanted to hold you.”

“Oh.”

It’s all familiar intimacy now. Teetering on the precipice, somewhere between unsure and knowing. Somewhere between friends and, maybe, more. Truthfully, they’d passed that line of friendship months ago - but they both knew that when they started whatever… this was - yet they’re stuck, suspended, in some kind of godforsaken limbo. It’s like they’re floating in space, trying to reach for each other, trying to ground themselves to anything to stop themselves from drifting further and further and further away.

She thinks they might already be half-gone, already.

But, for now, she’s content just to stay there, wrapped in his arms, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart steady inside his chest. They won’t have children together. They won’t be together. They’ll move on, find someone new. And they’ll look back on those days when this felt like the centre of their universe fondly, as best friends do.

“I’m sorry, you’re getting ready.” His low voice is muffled by her shoulder.

“I still have time,” she insists. Coraline reaches back to card a hand through Marcus’ curls, the brush of her nails over his scalp drawing out some of the tension that knots every inch of his body.

He exhales a long breath and drops another kiss to her shoulder, as he pushes down the material of her Springsteen shirt just a little further. It’s far too big for her - about four sizes so - and rests just above her knees. It almost drowns her; he’s pretty sure it used to be her father’s, but he isn’t sure. It smells like her perfume and he’s far too intoxicated by the bright scent to care.

“Where are you going, that’s got you looking so beautiful?”

Charmer.

“Hmm-” Coraline seems to hesitate for a moment, rolling her tube of lipstick through her fingers. “I have a date.”

Fuck.

He should have told her when he had the chance.

But, damn, if she’s happy, then he’s happy.

Because it’s true what they say: if you love someone, you should set them free.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” He enquires, hoping that the stiffness in his voice doesn’t show. He doesn’t have any right to be jealous. They were never together.

She was never his.

Coraline shrugs. Her fingers carry on their ministrations across her scalp. “Just someone from work.” His eyes draw to hers in the mirror; his eyebrows raise in questioning - she’d practically sworn off dating co-workers after Scott and the problems that seemed to drag up for a long while afterwards - and she slumps back against him, her back curling into his chest. “I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “But- but he’s sweet,” she insists.

Not as sweet as you, she thinks. He could never be you.

She finally drops her fingers from his curls and sweeps the lipstick over her lips; bright red and perfect on her. She puckers her lips again — the ridiculous gesture only serving to make him chuckle as he drops to sit on her bed — and her eyes draw to him as he groans, his shoulders slumping forward a little, before he straightens his back rigid again, as if nothing was wrong. Coraline narrows her eyes at him in the mirror.

“Marcus-” The call of his name draws his gaze to hers. “Are you okay?” She scowls at him in concern, green eyes alive with worry as his shoulders sag.

He smiles; it’s half-hearted and nowhere near as bright as his smile usually is, the smile that she welcomes every morning and craves every bad day. “I’m fine.” Marcus’ limbs are heavy. Like someone had tied weights to his wrists and his ankles, and he’s stuck lugging the burdens for the rest of his days. He’s completely exhausted, bled dry of energy, a heavy workload and the brutal sting of all their loss hitting him like a ten-ton truck, without warning.

Coraline narrows her eyes at him as he rubs at his jaw. He’d kept his facial hair at her request, so long ago that he thinks he’d miss the itchy thing if it were gone, now, but lately it’s been growing a little too unruly. “I can stay. I can reschedule-” She insists, but he’s shaking his head adamantly before she’s even finished her sentence.

Tell me not to go, she thinks.

Give me a reason to stay.

He won’t. He doesn’t feel the same way.

Coraline spins in her seat and tilts her head, worry tugging at her eyebrows. He catches her gaze as it lingers on his face, the face that gives away so much. “I’ll stay, Marcus.”

He knows she will. He’d do the same for her.

Don’t go, he thinks.

Let me give you a reason to stay.

She won’t. She doesn’t feel the same way.

“Don’t. Not for me.” He brushes her concern off.

“Marcus, I’ll stay, if you want me to.”

He almost asks her to, but that would be selfish.

“You have a date, sunshine.”

Coraline chuckles. “A date I’ve been holding off for months. He won’t mind if I tell him my best friend needs me.”

“Months, huh?” He smiles as much as he can bear to. “He must really like you.”

“Well-” Coraline’s teeth worry at her bottom lip and she reaches to scratch awkwardly at the back of her neck. “-his daughter likes me.” She smiles to herself; it’s bright, just for a moment, but she reins it in, as if she can’t be happy. “I think that helps,” she tells him.

A daughter.

Who is he to deny her that?

“Don’t let me keep you.” Marcus reaches across the small space between them and reaches for her hand; he dots a kiss to each of her knuckles, his thumb brushing once over the inside of her wrist, before he stands to leave. His knees protest as he stands, an uncomfortable ache spiking up his legs, but he ignores it, despite the pang of pain that flashes across his face.

If she stayed, he wouldn’t be good company. He’s sure he’ll fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

Coraline stands along with him. She catches his wrist in hers. White-hot adoration shoots through him and it’s almost undeniable how much he loves her, right now. He’d scream it for all to hear if he could. “I’ll stay,” she insists again. She’s serious. All he has to do is ask. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes.

“No.”

It hits them both like a punch in the gut. It’s far too abrupt, far too coarse. He clears his throat.

“I want you to go out and enjoy yourself.” Marcus kisses her forehead. Coraline chases his lips; she almost kisses him. Almost. She just lingers close to him for a moment, before drawing back, before remembering where the hell she is and that she can’t just lean up and kiss him whenever she wants because he’s not hers and it’s not fair and she can’t keep pretending that he’s in love with her when she’s sure that he isn’t. And when she herself isn’t even damn sure what the hell it is that cuts through the thick tension lingering in the space between them.

And Marcus can’t keep this façade going in his mind that they’re anything more than friends.

“And I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Marcus sighs. He has to bite back his smile. He wishes that were true. That she means it the way he wants her to mean it. But she can’t.

Surely, she can’t.

“I mean, really happy.” The back of his fingers brush her cheeks. “Now, enjoy your date, sunshine.” He dips and kisses her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”



taglist: @wheresthewater @its--fandom--darling @alberta-sunrise @sara-alonso @madslorian @freeshavocadoooo @giselatropicana @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Two, “One Step Closer”

Word Count: 10k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad /  *College resumes for me this coming week so chapters will, once again, be random* /  Song: Love Is On The Radio by McFly

“You’re weak. Everybody is. Everybody fails. Maybe this evil did bring you back, but if it did, it’s because it needs you. And that means that you can hurt it.”

- Buffy the Vampire Slayer  |  3x10 - “Amends”

It had been bothering me all morning, ever since Harry’s comment. If I was telling myself the truth, it had been gnawing away at the insides of my brain for longer than that. 

There was so much inside of me telling me that his suspicion was right when all I wanted was for it to be wrong. If I was doing that truth thing again, of course, there was a remaining part of me that wanted it to be right, but it was miniscule at best. No more was said about it after that, but that fact in itself only made it harder to forget. Even if I had wanted to speak to him about it, he had been in partner meetings all day. I knew he was due for lunch here soon, and that’s what led me to run a quick errand before then, nabbing the car keys from his right drawer where he always left them for occasions like this. 

I certainly didn’t think that this was how it would be happening, at Harry’s firm of all places. Our firm? Guilt seeped under my skin the second I had put my plan into action, well aware that he had no idea what I was doing. Tears had been close all day long, since the time those joking words had left his lips. Sure, the blame went to him on that, but I couldn’t have known what it would lead to, either. Even he didn’t. We both could deserve the blame for this entire thing, if it turned out to be true. 

The second it’s done, I find that I can’t get myself to follow through. The closest thing I’ve felt to relief all day comes when I see my watch reads one o’clock. It feels like every person I pass knows my secret, despite that being an impossibility and more. The only person who could have the smallest inkling is the person whose door I stop in front of, because I’m not sure how I can do this. Or, that I can. I’ve surprised myself by getting this far in my plan. 

When the door opens for me, I can’t decide whether I feel lucky that he made the next decision for me. “Hi, bug. How’s yer mornin’ been? ‘ve missed you, y’know. Oh, whatcha got there? Did ya get me lunch?” his words couldn’t be sweeter. Neither could his hand that brushes against my cheek, sliding down my arm next. Alarms blare inside of me, yelling to tell him while others repeat the opposite. I don’t know why, but doubt floods me within milliseconds. I know that he wouldn’t be upset, but then how come I suddenly worry that he would be? “Ev’rythin’ okay, Becks?”

“I-I . . ,” I try and my failure is almost immediate. The only thing that I succeed at is pushing him back into his office, and closing the door. 

“Becks, what’s wrong, love?” urgency shines through in his voice. It’s the last thing that I can find, in my hand or my lips. My name graces my ears a few times more as I stare at the floor, not knowing how I could ever say this. Not just that, unsure of how I can make the next move, knowing that it very well may change my life from this moment on. His, too. 

“I-I can’t do it, Harry.”  

Three Weeks Earlier . . 

The sound of the wooden door finding its hinges is deafening, ringing throughout the historic hallway. His booming footsteps may be even louder as I try to follow them, but his legs are just too damn long. I’m not sure if I want to even follow him, knowing what’s about to happen.

“What tha fuck was that?” he spits at me, malice laced throughout his words. I thought at least he’d wait until the car, but I guess not. Fuck me, and not in a good way. 

“Can we not do this here?” my attempt at a whisper is pathetic. When he whips around, making me stop suddenly, I wish I’d never said anything. 

“Do what? Talk ‘bout how you jus’ made us lose our fuckin’ case?” Harry retorts. Hanging my head low, I keep it that way as I walk around him. It’s not that easy though, or so I find, as I walk past them. All of the other lawyers waiting, as if in the dugout, outside the doors to Courtrooms 11, 12, and 13. “‘Cos you did, y’know that, right?” Wow, thanks for the fucking audience, Harry. 

“How was I supposed to know they had that evidence, Harry?” my words are explosive, but they’re nothing compared to his eyes. If you slapped a long haired wig on him and made him clean shaven, it’d be just like four years ago. He hadn’t always stayed away though, especially not when he had been drinking, but it had been a while since that. Nearly a year. Then, why now? 

“We knew ‘bout it, so you should’ve planned fer it, Becks.”

“I did my best, Harry,” I mutter under my breath, pointing my eyes at him. Why was he acting like this, so entitled and . . not like my Harry?

“Ya, well ‘s not good enough,” he replies curtly with a nasty curl to his lips, disgust painting his face. I make the mistake of lifting my head, catching the last second of wandering gazes before they pretend like they weren’t watching our spat unfold. “Let’s go befo’ dinner traffic starts.”

/

“Where d’ya think yer goin’?” it’s not a joke, like it would so often be. No, he’s still here, and I was so close to finally making my escape. 

“I’m going to Skye’s for dinner.” 

“But, I was gonna make fish, and-,” I don’t let him finish, because he’s been doing the very same thing to me. All day long. Clipped replies, shooting down my ideas, and doing nothing to hide his disappointment in me. “And, we’re not done talkin’ ‘bout t’day, Becks.” 

“No, Harry, we are. And, you don’t get to call me that when you’re acting like this,” my words are firm, the most they’ve been in awhile. It was long overdue, even more than that. It zips his lips shut quicker than I could have hoped, and at last, he’s listening to me now. “We spoke about it the entire way here from the courthouse, Harry. You talked at me, yelled at me the whole car ride. Don’t you think that was more than enough?”

I know that I’ve made the wrong decision entirely when he rises from his chair, standing to his astounding height of six feet. I’d been loving him for the last few years, and officially for the last one and a half, so I knew what was coming by the look on his face. 

“No, ‘m yer boss and I say we’re not done speakin’ ‘bout this. So, sit.” 

“No,” emphasis carries in my voice, making him look as if I slapped him across the face. A groove appears between his eyebrows that sink towards his eyes. “You can’t talk to me like that, Harry. Yes, I’m your mentee and your employee, but I’m your girlfriend too. Isn’t that more important? I fucked up and made a mistake, and we lost a case. How many goddamn times do I have to tell you that I’m sorry, Harry?” a response from his lips is absent, and I can’t find one on his face as he stares back at me blankly. 

The look in his eyes begins to tug at my heart once the tears have begun to leave stripes down my cheeks. God, could there for once be a time that I don’t fucking cry?

“Shit,” I mutter, wiping hastily at my cheeks. Huffing, I blink them away until his face focuses in my view. I love him, and I try to remind myself of that, but God, I am so fucking mad at him right now. He had said it to me, and now, I can’t stop thinking about it. “We’re on the same team, Harry, have you forgotten that? You keep saying lately that we should fight with love and while on the same team, but you’re a hypocrite, because you don’t! What the fuck? I’m sorry I missed that evidence writing up our argument, and that I wasn’t prepared when it came up, but what was I supposed to do? You didn’t tell me how to fix that- y-you didn’t teach me what to do when that happens, Harry. This is why I haven’t worked a case with you in awhile, because you get like this. You micromanage, you hover when I’m trying to work, you have me on too short of a leash when I’m trying to take some freedom, or you give me too much of it when I need more help. You’re demeaning, Harry, you pull the boss card when it’s not fucking needed. I know that I’m dating one of the most renowned and successful lawyers in London- hell, all of Britain, but you’re my boyfriend too. I haven’t even been practicing for two years, and it’s going to be a long time until I don’t make mistakes anymore. I’m doing my best, and it’s never enough for you. Do you remember that, when you said my best isn’t good enough in front of all of those lawyers at the courthouse, Harry? Can you even comprehend how embarrassing that was for me? I’m your girlfriend, and despite how we tried to hide it, everybody knows it. That’s not how you treat your girlfriend, Harry, or even if we weren’t dating, your coworker. We’re talking about getting engaged soon, Harry, and then what? How can we be the Styles lawyer couple when my husband treats me like I’m below him because he gets mad at me for not knowing how to do something that he never taught me? . . Talk to Simon or Jilly, because I’m not working another case with you until you stop acting like this.”

“Becks, honey. I-” the very same word from his lips is found in his words, but I’m already shaking my head at him. A part of me wants to let him continue, but the other one insists that he’s the one who does the listening this time. 

“No, don’t you give me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, Harry Styles,” my warning holds more weight to it than I thought I could manage. He’s surprised too, by the way I don’t return his few second smile. “You can’t just fix this with an ‘I’m sorry’ and some pet names, Harry. I-I need to go. I can’t be here right now.” 

And so I leave, fleeing to my other best friend to pour my heart out about the other one. Rinse and repeat. 

/

The house was unusually quiet for eight o’clock. I kept putting it off, coming home. Finally, Skye did what she does best and kicked me out, insisting that I go and have some angry sex with my boyfriend, and then talk it out. It beats me why her solution to everything was sex, no matter how many times I vented to her about a row we had, that was always her answer. Sex. Have angry sex. Shower sex. Sofa sex. Slow sex. Dirty sex. Bent over the kitchen counter sex. Car sex, even. It only reminded me to never ask her where she hadn’t done it. 

It was dark, save for the soft light above the stove. “Alexa, turn living room light to warm,” I ask softly, hoping that he can’t hear me. I’m just not ready yet. 

Ideas for my lunch tomorrow fill my head until they’re whisked away when I open the fridge, finding my lunchbag beside his. An electric blue Post-It note sits on one of the purple handles. 

I got your lunch sorted, bug, and for the rest of the week. Month, if you even want. Love you most, I’m so bloody sorry xoxoxo

His chicken scratch plants a warmth inside of me, one that I can’t deny when I close the door, and pad up the stairs. “Alexa, turn light off.”

If he was working in his downstairs study, I’d done a good job of being quiet enough, but that was never the case. I swear, I had the sound of his footsteps memorized by now. My knack for recognizing my mum’s angry stomping had carried on to my adult years, somewhat fortunately. 

When it came down to it, there were few things about Harry that weren’t attractive. Sure, I could make a list of them spanning a notebook page if I thought hard enough, starting with today’s main feature. He wasn’t any more perfect than the rest of us, but sometimes in the right light he was for me. He still was despite his flaws. 

The slope of his toned back was one of them, one of his imperfect perfections that he didn’t even know about. It was the first glimpse I got of him when I stopped in the open doorway of our bedroom. It had been a long time since I could remember him wearing a shirt to bed, probably last winter, if I had to say. If he heard the whispery sounds of my breaths and impending footsteps, he didn’t make it known. Neither did he when I crossed the room and escaped into the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Despite the time I spent readying myself to see him and talk to him, it wasn’t enough. No, it didn’t prepare me for the way my heart seemed to split open when I stepped out of the bathroom to find his face devoid of sunshine and red rimmed eyes threatened with more tears. If I could find the right words, which I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have even said any as I found my way to our bed, slipping under the covers on his side, the left one. His ragged breaths are hot against my bare neck, and his tears soon gracing my skin are tepid, but passionate with sobs. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he whimpers, words divulged into me. Against my skin. Apparently, today was opposite day, because as I hold him against me, I’m teeming with guilt. “Did ya not think I could handle t’ hear it?”

“No, not really . . I wanted to find a good time to tell you, and not when we were having a row, but it just came out today. I’m sorry for the way that I said it, and how I left like that. You can’t fight fire with fire.” 

“‘s okay, I deserved it fer how I treated you t’day, bub. ‘m so sorry,” his sob stings against my ears, almost pulling an adjoining one from my lips. “I think yer a great lawyer, really, I do. This case was jus’ so hard and I let it get t’ me and overshadow ev’rythin’ else. ‘s s’posed t’ be a learning experience fer you, and I fo’got that. Becks . . “ 

“It’s okay, Harry. It’s not, but it is. You just . . you have to work on it. Not just for me, but Simon and Jilly too who work with you, and for yourself,” I tell him amidst combing the tangles out of his ear length curls. 

“Maybe ‘m not cut out t’ be a teacher, Becks. ‘m terrible at it, as you can see.” 

“No, you’re not, Harry. You’re my favorite teacher, you still are. Teachers have their own learning to do, too.” 

“I dunno,” he sighs, sniffling against the tears that have made my neck slick. A silence falls between us, and I’m not sure what else to say, before he does it for me. “How can I get better, Becks? Please, tell me.” 

“Harry, you . . you have to relax about it. Jilly’s only an intern, and Simon graduated when I did, but he may not have as much experience as me, I dunno. Everybody’s different and every case is, too. You have to lower your expectations, I think, and raise them when you can. Sometimes, you need to loosen the leash you have on them, or tighten it, depending on how much help they need. You need to act as if they don’t know something - how to write briefs, how to finish a closing statement, how to interview a witness . . Not in a demeaning way, but in a teachable way. When they mess up, take a deep breath before telling them it’s okay, and use it as a teachable moment. Nobody is perfect, Harry, and it’s okay that you aren’t, either.”

“Sounds like you should be tha teacher, not me,” he remarks gingerly, but in a way that the sadness has devoured his happiness. This was the voice of his I perhaps hated worse than when he yells at me. “I can’t believe tha way I treated you t’day, Becks. I didn’t go over what we should do if tha state found that evidence, ‘cos I forgot ‘bout it once that missing witness was found . . ‘s not yer fault that we lost it, it really isn’t. They jus’ played their cards right, ‘s all. We’ll do better next time- Well, if you’ll have me back.” 

He didn’t mean to, but he feeds the guilt monster inside of me. I wish I could hate it, but I know he means well. 

“It’s not a question, Harry. I will come back to work with you. I just- I didn’t know it’d be this hard working together sometimes. Since we’re dating and we both are passionate about law, I thought it’d mean we’d be great on a team together at work, but . . “ 

“‘s easier said than done,” he concludes for the both of us, reminding me of that talent he has with words. “Becks, I don’t wanna be like this . . ‘specially when we have kids. I hate it when I hurt those I love,” his sob rips another seam in my heart. Pulling him closer doesn’t help, but it brings a temporary respite when he’s pressed to my front. 

“Harry, you’ll be a great dad, I know it. We all have things we need to work on, we’re always a work in progress, and that’s okay too,” something inside of me clenches at the appearance of his red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks when he pulls away from me. He had always been better at wiping away the tears, but I do my best, and know that’s all that I can do. “We better hope none of them become lawyers.” 

The rip starts to stitch itself back up when a ray of sunshine spills from his grinning lips, even if it’s the smallest of smiles. Tipping my head forward, my forehead comes to rest on his, and I watch as his eyes fall shut. 

“You still love me?” his question is mumbled, and there goes that stitching. 

“Don’t be silly, of course I still love you, Harry. I don’t think I could stop if I tried, not that I’d want to.” 

His sages are tired when they open, and it makes it difficult to not think about late nights with him and a baby in our arms. One that I hope looks like him, getting his dimples, eyes, and sunshine. I wonder what we’d name them. 

“You still stuck on that girl name if we had a daughter?” I pose aloud to him, welcoming the change of subjects. His nod is emphatic and so is my giggle, still unable to think of a better baby name than that one. 

“Can’t believe ya still insist on namin’ our one day son Lenny,” Harry tsks, but I know he’s joking by the dimple set in his cheek. 

“Come on, you still don’t like it? How do you, a Beatles and John fan, not like the idea of naming your son Lennon Styles? Doesn’t it just sound, I dunno, so perfect?” I hope I’m right, that the tears have begun to dry up from his eyes.  

“Sorry, love, but as much as I love The Beatles, I jus’ can’t get on that bandwagon. Maybe ‘Lennon,’ but defo not ‘Lenny,’ sounds like an old man name or somethin’,” Harry titters, the very sound going straight for my heart. Yawning, I decide it’s my time to bury my face in his neck, sighing at the comfort of his arms going around me. “‘m so sorry ‘bout t’day, Becks. I promise you ‘ll get better. Fer you . . fer me, and our family one day.” 

“Thank you. Your dedication to wanting to get better is one of the things I love most about you, Harry. You know that?” I hum, my eyes fluttering shut at the intoxicating smell of him. I’m not sure there was ever a time where it didn’t calm me, until earlier today. 

Any sign of sleep is whisked away when I’m rolled onto my back, and he’s hovering over me, pinning my arms above my head. Oh, boy. This could go two very different ways, but I know which one I’m leaning towards. 

“Ya sure ‘s not me huge dick ya love most?” despite the tears stuck to his eyelashes, the shine in his eye is beginning to return. It may be a different kind as of now, but I welcome it, regardless. 

It’s undeniable that I’m going to get it for this one, but this too I embrace, “Now, I wouldn’t call it huge.” 

It grows in his eyes, the twinkling of mischief. God, how could I ever not learn to forgive that face? That stupidly goddamn handsome face. 

“Becky Styles, what tha fuck am I gonna do with you, Ms. Smart Mouth?”

“Come on, you know that’s what you love most about me,” my grin couldn’t be bigger. Neither could his automatic eye roll. “My mouth.” 

“Hush, li’l one, or else yer not gettin’ any o’ this dick.” 

“I know what you can do with me . . well, with that huge dick of yours, Harry,” at the end, my words collapse into a loud chuckle, especially when his teeth nip at my ear. 

“Bloody hell, stop talkin’, Becks. Yer distractin’ me.” 

“Good.” 

With his curls hanging in his eyes, a different warmth appears in his eyes, “‘s a good thing yer me favorite distraction, love.” 

/

I had tried and tried, but nothing. It wasn’t working. 

“What the fuck?” I mutter underneath my breath. Pulling my light coat around me tighter, I shiver, narrowing my eyes at the screen. Sliding my sleeve back, I lift my wrist and wake up my Apple watch. “Hey, Siri. Call Harry.” 

There’s a pause until I hear the robotic voice, “There is only ‘Harry Big Dick Styles’ in your Contacts. Would you like to call them or another number?”

“Yes,” I groan, rolling my eyes at the new name Harry had chosen for himself in my phone. By now, I could sniff it out on him, the little smirk he got when he’d ask to ‘borrow my phone’ to look something up. The little shit. 

“Yes, call who?”

“Call ‘Harry Big Dick Styles,’” although it doesn’t warrant a whisper, I still do, despite being alone in my office. He got what he wanted, alright. The device soon starts to ring, and it rings, and rings. Pressing the red phone icon, I end it, “Yeah, avoid my call so I don’t chew you out for putting your name as that in my phone, Harry Edward.” 

While my head rocks from side to side, mumbled curses fall from my lips as I close out of that tab. Switching to another, I type in the name of the other database, reentering my search for like, the hundredth time. 

“Knock knock!” somebody chirps from outside my door, opening it regardless. “Hey, Ree, hope I’m not interrupting some important lawyer thing of yours. I’m just glad I didn’t walk in on a row of yours with Harry. You two lovebirds better now?”

“Oh, hey, Skye. No, you’re okay and we’re good again. I was about to chuck my computer at the wall, so it’s probably best you came and saved me,” I sigh, watching my best friend waltz in, plopping onto my sofa. With an ‘ooo,’ she helps herself to Harry’s candy dish on the corner of my desk. Sometimes, I really do hate him. 

“What’s this ‘bout throwin’ yer Mac at tha wall? Tha thousand dollar laptop I bought you?” comes another voice into my office. Huffing, my hand comes to my face, rubbing at the furrow between my brows. Have I said lately how much I hate his sarcastic ass?

“Shutup, Harry,” Skye retorts for me, sorting through the caramels and chocolates until she locates the last mini Snickers bar. 

“Hey, watch tha mouth and Skye, those are my sweets!” he exclaims, quick steps carrying him over to my desk to bat at her hand. 

“Fuck off, I got it first.”

“Shouldn’t you two be workin’ or somethin’?” Harry sighs, biting off a block of chocolate as he takes a seat besides Skye. 

“Shouldn’t you?” by accident, Skye and I say it at the same time. Moaning, Harry crosses his arms over his chest with a pout. Good God, I don’t even want to imagine how stubborn our kids would be. 

“Fuck off, I own that sofa yer sittin’ on, could very well kick you outta me firm, if I like.” 

“Fuck off, I own that sofa yer sittin’ on, yada yada, ‘m this big fancy lawyer who thinks he has a big dick and ‘s tha best thing since sliced bread,” I try and fail to hold back the laughter spurred by Skye’s near perfect imitation of Harry’s accent, and his cocky attitude. His head slowly shakes from side to side, eyes narrowed at Skye while taking another bite from his dark chocolate bar. 

“Yer really gonna get it. Swear, yer never gonna be tha godmother, Skye.” 

“Wait, really?! It’s about time you fucking knocked her up,” she blurts

out and I’m laughing before I register what she’s saying. It comes to a skidding halt, but Harry’s shaking head doesn’t. 

“Ya, don’t think ‘d want me kids ‘round you, ya fuckin’ nutjob,” my boyfriend jokes, mouth full of chocolate. 

Skye’s jaw falls and she slaps at his arm, shoving at him next, but of course, he doesn’t go anywhere. Leaning forward, Harry easily towers over her in his dark violet suit, lips spread into a shit eating grin. 

“Who’s pregnant?” now, this voice is new, but it doesn’t take me long to locate its owner. All eyes flit to the doorway where Asher spreads his hands on the frame, peering inside with bent brows. 

“Um, nobody but . . ,” Skye sighs. A look dawns in her eyes, and it doesn’t take me long to figure it out. “I may be after looking at you . . Fuck, did I say that out loud?” she whispers, looking away from him with wide eyes. 

Harry’s obnoxious belly laughter breaks the silence when he puts his scarlet colored face in his hands. I’m afraid he might piss his pants if he laughs any harder. There’s nothing I can do to stop mine from joining his. Thankfully, Skye and Asher are soon laughing too. A few moments after we’ve collected ourselves, she gets to her feet, walking over to him in a Scooby Doo tie-dyed sweatshirt. This is one of her less eccentric outfits, if I do say so myself. 

“Hi. Um, let me try that again. I’m Skye, Becky’s best friend. And, you must be?” she says, holding out a hand accented with neon pink nail polish. A sound jars me from my watching of the moment. Looking over, I find it to be Harry taking a seat on the corner of my desk, his long legs touching mine. 

“Would ya look at them? Who woulda thought?” he whispers to me, nodding his head at the pair who exchange introductions and laughs. 

“Yeah, God.” 

“Aww, love,” Harry croons, loudly chewing his chocolate. 

“Yeah, speaking of that,” I exclaim in a hushed voice, pinching the inside of his thigh. 

“Ow! What’d ya do that fer? Y’know ‘s sensitive there,” he almost retorts, rubbing the skin underneath his trousers. “You could’ve gotten me balls!�� 

“Don’t you give me that look, Harry Styles! You have some explaining to do - what the fuck is this?” I bite back, grabbing my phone and showing him my recent calls. I don’t even have to blink and his eager lips are dealing irresistible laughs, cheeks reddening like a tomato. “I tried to call you like five minutes ago for help with the databases, and I see this! What if I’m with my Dad and you called, Harry?”

There’s no chance he’s saying anything anytime soon, because all he can do is laugh and avoid. Picking up a magazine from my desk, I swat it at his shoulder. 

“Hey, watch it!” Harry warns, but his voice swimming with laughs does little to intimidate me. “That’s tha issue we’re in! Don’t wrinkle it now, we hafta frame that one.” 

Groaning, he carefully pries the copy of the local business magazine, Pulse, that he and Myles were on the cover of. I’m rather sure I wanted to frame it and hang it on my wall, because that was one good picture of Harry, if I ever saw one. 

A tiny yelp leaves my lips when he leans forward and pinches my boob. 

“Harry!” I exclaim, shoving him away, but it’s hard to do so when he’s laughing up a storm. “I’ll do it, I swear to God.” 

“You wouldn’t,” he bets aloud with a disbelieving shake of his head. His lips have begun to quiet down, and so have mine as he stays leaning towards mine, hands resting on his thighs. God, those thighs. “Not in front o’ them.” 

“You pinched my fucking boob in front of them, you don’t think I’ll do it? They don’t even remember we’re here right now,” I bite back, sitting up in my chair and meeting him in the middle. A word readies on his lips, but his face changes instantly when my hand flies to his bum, poking between his cheeks. 

“You li’l shit!” Harry almost yelps, grabbing my hand, only infuriated more by my laughing. 

“Can you two stop being so gay over there? I’m trying to talk to Asher,” Skye pipes up. Harry gives me a funny look at the way she says his name all sultry like. 

“Oooo, kissy kissy,” my boyfriend whispers to me from the cover of his hand. Turning his head with a smirk, our attention goes back to them. Mine only lapses for a moment when Harry pulls my hand into his, thumbing at my promise ring. It was something he had been doing a lot of lately. 

Something I had been doing a lot of lately- well, always was how I could never stop myself from admiring the way he looked in what he wore to work. His suits. If Skye and Asher weren’t in the room right now, although on a different plane of existence it seems, I’m not sure there’d be much stopping me from devouring Harry’s thighs right now. It didn’t help that he had them spread wide open facing me, and that his trousers were especially tight today. 

“You’re bad,” I almost hiss, squeezing his hand. With questioning brows, he looks back to me with a ‘what?’ “Sitting like that.” 

I can’t roll my eyes fast enough at the way his dimples fall into his cheeks with another shit eating grin of his. “Y’know, Becks,” he whispers, moving so he’s full on facing me, showing me a lovely view of the bulge in his pants. “If ya told ‘em t’ leave, ‘d fuck you so hard on that sofa tha second they’re gone.” 

“Harry,” it’s a soft laugh at best, but it doesn’t get very far when his lips smash themselves against mine. 

“Hmmm, seems we got our wish,” he muses aloud, bringing my eyes to the door, watching them leave on their own accord. Skye’s smile couldn’t be brighter, and wait, was Asher blushing? “Hello? Becks?” 

Blinking hard, my eyes snap back over to Harry. Blankly, I watch his every move. The way he slinks off his blazer, revealing the sheer white button-up he had teased me with this morning- well, all day. My bottom lip sings with pain from my teeth when he takes his time pulling his trousers down, exposing the significant bulge in his briefs. A wet circle of precum already marks where the tip of his dick is. 

“Ya got tha door?” he asks, just like every time, and I mumble an impatient response. 

God, I wouldn’t be surprised if I happened to end up pregnant sometime soon, because holy shit, this man. He may be an asshole, but the name he put in my phone wasn’t wrong, that’s for sure. 

/

I had come to memorize many things about Harry, from the way that he would only shave on Friday nights, would drink a glass of water first thing in the morning, and the sounds that he made. All the kinds. He had his own little humming that he did sometimes when he didn’t think anybody noticed, or the way he played with his lips and bit them. 

There was one thing about him that had melted into the background, like so many of them had by now, and that included the sound currently stemming from behind his office door. Words paused on my lips once I stepped inside, instantly mesmerized by the sounds that came from the way his fingers danced across the strings. It seems he had my sounds memorized too, because his stop suddenly, and his eyes are searching for mine. When they land on me, his cheeks crease with a shy smile. 

“You finished it,” it’s more of a statement than a question, despite knowing that he could spend another week perfecting it until he’s happy. He nods with a content smile, mindlessly picking the song slowly. “It sounds amazing, babe, even better than yesterday.” 

He mumbles a few words of thanks before his attention is captured again by the six stringed instrument, head bent over it in concentration. The luster has fled from his lips but the furrow above his nose has returned. 

The question leaves my lips and I’m not sure if I should’ve stopped it, uncertain of the story on his pages, “Alright?” His response isn’t immediate, neither a good or bad sign, I’ve found. With my arms looped around his neck from behind, I have a bird’s eye view of his fingers on his guitar. 

“Jus’ nervous fer t’night,” Harry’s voice is seldom shy, but right now, that word covers it. Over and over. 

“It’ll be okay. It’s just dinner.” 

“Ya right, ‘s the dinner, Becks. I don’t want it t’ go wrong or somethin,’” he remarks, fingers drifting up and down the neck of the guitar. It finds me, hastily and passionately, a sudden decision. I surprise even myself, leaving my stance behind him to walk around the chair, plucking the guitar from his hands. “What d’ya think yer doin’?” it comes out in his joking lilt, a dimple popping. 

“Teach me,” I say, and you’d thought by the look on his face that I had said I was quitting or something worse. It doesn’t stay very long because it melts into a smile that almost touches his ears, if only it could. 

“Thanks, bug,” although it’s not all there, I hear his words. All of them. Thanks for the distraction from my anxious thoughts, Becks. “C’mere, baby.” 

Patting his lap, I roll my eyes when he winks at me, sending me air kisses. I mutter a ‘shut up’ as I carefully take a seat until my back is flush with his chest. Letting him take control, he guides my hands to hold the guitar - left hand grasping the neck at the top and my right resting on the strings over the guitar’s hole. The smile already claiming my lips climbs a little higher at the feeling of his lips sponging a kiss to my cheek. 

“Thank you,” it’s a mere whisper but I catch it. It’s gone in a blink, but the way he placed his face against mine made my heart flutter. It had been a long time since I had let Harry try to teach me guitar again, despite his insisting that I could learn another instrument. Let’s just say that the first few times didn’t go that pretty due to a certain over controlling teacher. 

“Will you help me too?” 

“Mmmhmm,” I respond softly to his nervous question, turning my head ever so slightly to connect my lips with his cheek. “What does E major look like again?”

“This here, Boops,” his breath tickles my cheek, smelling of what else, but black coffee. He really is getting old, I think jokingly to myself, hoping I never have to give up teasing him about his age. I hope that I can keep it going for years and years to come, especially when he actually is old. The thought only makes me wonder what he was like as a teenager, and even just in his twenties, before I had met him. “‘Kay, noodle arms, help me out here.” 

“Oh, sorry,” I wheeze, maneuvering my hand with his help to the second fret, arranging my fingers on the strings. I strum but we both laugh at how bad it sounds, nothing like when he does it. “Harry?” pressing my fingers down more firmly on the metal strings, I drag the hard pick across the strings. Again and again. 

“Ya, Becks?” 

“What were you like when you were younger?”

“What, ‘s this another o’ yer old jokes where ya think yer funny?” he muses, helping me to move my hand again. “Here’s a C, this one may be easier fer you. E and C are some o’ tha main chords. Y’know, many songs don’t have mo’ than 5 chords, so once you master tha main ones, yer golden.” 

“Okay, but I can’t even play one,” it comes out in a giggle, lighter than air. He says something about practice and trying, dodging the question. “No, I’m just curious what you were like . . before I knew you. Baby Harry.” 

“You’ve seen photos o’ me, and heard stories from me mum and sista.” 

“Yeah, you were all hair, that’s nothing new,” the strings have begun to make my fingertips sting. That was one of the reasons I had thrown in the towel so early when it had come to learning guitar. Patience. It’s not something that Harry or I have. “You were in a band in high school, and you worked at a bakery running the till. What else? Like, what did you enjoy doing in your free time? What was your favorite cereal? When was your first real kiss?”

“Y’know some o’ this already, Becks,” a snort of his almost graces my temple where his cheek is pressed to mine. “I listened t’ music almost any chance I got, hung with me best mates - Tommy, Lola, and Morgan. Me fav cereal were tha chocolate puffs, whatever they were called. First kiss, hmm . . I guess me first real one was like fifteen, or somethin’ close t’ that. Here name was Heather Roberts. How’s ‘bout you, love? Seein’ as how we’re doin’ this twenty questions thing, I s’pose ‘s my turn. What was yer first job? First record? Favorite kid program you never missed an episode of?”

“First job was babysitting my neighbor’s two boys. God, they were a handful, two and three and mad as can be. My first record was Abbey Road, my dad’s copy he gave me after I got into The Beatles when I was like, 13. Um, favorite program was What’s New Scooby Doo,” the memories tell themselves. My cheeks fill out with a smile as he nudges his nose against my face, forgetting about the guitar to press repetitive kisses there. “Sir, you’re supposed to be teaching me how to play the guitar, not making out with my neck.” 

“Priorities,” he mumbles. First, there’s the smooth feeling of his nose underneath my ear, and then the contrasting feeling of his hairy upper lip. Squirming, I hadn’t even noticed the guitar was absent from our hands, he must have snuck putting it down. 

“Harry,” my giggle doesn’t last long before he’s turning me in my arms, and smashing his lips against mine the second he gets the chance. Effortlessly, my legs find a place on the other side of his, and my hands fall into his hair, just like always. “We’re supposed to be . . . working,” I hardly get out in between kisses from his busy lips.

“Couldn’t care less,” he insists in sighs. “Yer boss says not t’ worry ‘bout it.” 

“Rose is my boss now.” 

“God, would you please shut up?” his lips buzz against mine with a chuckle, one that I can’t help but copy. Rushed breaths tickle at the other’s skin amidst escaped laughs. There were few moments in the day where I wasn’t enveloped by his scent, one that had by accident spread to me too when I stole his body wash in the shower. My fingers are met with the satiny ribbons of his curly hair, despite his often protests to not mess it up after he had finally gotten it perfect in the morning. 

A squeak escapes me when his rings press against my bum through my black slacks, some harsher than others. I just make out the beginning of his mischievous laugh as my body shifts above him, finally settling down on top of his lap. 

“Woman,” Harry grumbles against my mouth, trapping my bottom lip between his sharp teeth. My giggle turns into a whine of pain with the pressure of his teeth. It only stays at the feeling of his crotch bucking up against mine from beneath. “You drive me mad,” a long sigh touches my lips when I tug down, listening to the sound of his zipper. 

“Priorities,” I echo, watching the way his rosebud lips spread with sunshine. 

/

“Breathe.” 

“I can’t, dunno how you can,” it comes out as a perturbed sigh and nothing less. “‘m sorry, don’t mean t’ get short with you.” 

“It’s okay,” I answer, feeling the way his rings pinch my skin when I squeeze his hand. 

“Hope so,” is all Harry says when he glances over at me, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“He’ll come, it’s only been a few minutes. You were like, ten minutes late for our first date, don’t you remember?”

“Oh ya,” his cheeks couldn’t be more red as they’re attacked with a surprise smile. “God, I still can’t believe I did that.” 

“Neither can I. That’ll be a good story to tell our kids.” 

“Ya, we’ve got loads o’ ‘em, and plenty o’ embarrassin’ ones ‘bout you,” he quips with a sly grin, making me shake my head. “What? If yer gonna tell tha bad ones ‘bout me, then ‘ll tell tha bad ones ‘bout you,” his lips end in a curled smile, the first one I’ve seen him share since we stepped foot in this place. 

“Seems ‘ve missed a good joke,” a voice comments from nowhere. Our heads both whip to the side, and before I’ve seen him, I notice it. The way Harry’s lips have fallen into a line, and the way his adam’s apple bobs nervously in his throat. 

“You didn’t miss anything good, don’t worry,” I assure him, standing to my feet with Harry.

“Please, sit down, there’s no need fer that,” Harry’s dad says with a wave of his hand, and we oblige. Undoing the button on his coal gray suit, he falls into the chair opposite. “‘m sorry if I kept you waitin’, traffic was a bitch.” 

“Oh, it’s fine. We haven’t been waiting long. How was your day, Mr. Styles?” I find myself saying, instantly hearing a titter from Harry, followed by his father. God, these similarities are mad. First, the comment about traffic, and now, this. 

“‘s Dez, none o’ that Mr. Styles rubbish.” 

“Rememba when ya used t’ call me that?” my boyfriend chirps, cocking his head to the side in a funny way. Laughs pass between us and our inside joke. 

Looking back to Harry’s dad, a question sits in his eyes, ones similar to Harry’s. I’d met him twice now, but it still amazes me how he looks like his dad. It’s like meeting his mum all over again, seeing him in them. 

“I was his assistant before, at the firm,” my explanation comes, and so does the realization on his face. 

“Oh, yes. I think we met befo’ then. That was what, four years ago? ‘m sorry we had t’ meet that way.” 

“It’s okay,” it’s automatic, and so is the next few minutes sitting in silence staring at our menus. It’s as if I can hear all of the conversations around me but ours in this restaurant decorated with white tablecloths. 

I’m not sure why Harry had to pick such a fancy place until I asked him, and he said it was his Dad’s idea entirely. I’d never been here, but Harry had, hence why he was pointing at my menu with whispers. Sometimes, it was hard to not stare at him while he talked, memorizing the way his lips moved when he spoke. The way his entire face could change with a flick of his eyebrows, or a lift of his lips. Tonight, I resisted, knowing how much was riding on this dinner with his dad. How important it was to him that it went well, and I understood, or as much as I could having a parent I didn’t talk to. 

“This ‘s good, and Myles likes their steaks. Maybe you’d like this one with tha pasta,” he mumbles, his long pointer finger dragging over the off white, paper menu. I could tell that he was nervous, from the way he bit at his lip to how his thumb hadn’t stopped rubbing the inside of my thigh under the table. 

Now, I wasn’t sure who to watch, my boyfriend beside me who kneaded at his bottom lip, or his father who did the same thing with his. It amused me, how I kept being surprised at the mannerisms between the two. First, there was the deep voice and the accent. Then, there were the almond green eyes, the towering height, and the nose. It was uncanny, the resemblance, even more so than his mum, I thought. What physical features he didn’t have of his mum’s, he made up for with his kindness and warmth of her’s. He got the sense of style from her, I think silently when I see the plain white shirt underneath his father’s blazer, and the denims I saw when he walked in. 

Our meals had been ordered and waters had been poured. Soon, the questions began, too. 

“So, you met workin’ at Harry’s firm?” his dad asks, scratching at his head. One lone ring sat on a pinkie, and his hair couldn’t be further from Harry’s. I couldn’t figure out where he’d gotten the curls from, seeing his mother’s wavy black hair, and his dad’s cropped gray head of hair. 

“Yeah, back in . . 2021. I was his personal assistant for a little bit that fall before I left for a different job.” 

“Ah, I see,” he muses aloud, awkwardness ensuing. Again. It wasn’t just him. The both of us had found it hard to retell this part of our story to anybody. Anybody who didn’t know us, or who wasn’t there. “And you came back, I see. ‘ve heard yer a rather great lawyer already.” His words bring me to turn to my boyfriend who does a poor job of hiding a smile whilst drinking water. 

“Yeah, I really like it there. I’ve hopped around working with some of the lawyers there, but I think I might have a favorite.” 

“I don’t blame you. Myles has always been my favorite too,” Dez chuckles, and like his son, it’s contagious. Harry yelps with a small protest, clucking his tongue at the both of us. “So, what are yer plans at tha firm?”An answer escapes me, and I turn my head, looking for it in the man next to me. 

He mouths a ‘what’ at me before messing with his hair, pressing his palm against my thigh in encouragement. If you could even call it that. 

“Well, right now I’m completing my mentorship, which will probably last another year and a half. So, I’m halfway. After that, I’m not sure. I’m just trying to get over this hill right now.” 

He nods with my words, taking a long drink from his pint he’d ordered. It still can remind me of the look on Harry’s face when he debated whether or not to mention that he doesn’t drink anymore, despite his father’s harmless badgering to order him a whiskey on the rocks. His old favorite. 

“Maybe you won’t be working by then, who knows. Anne and I had begun to have kids when we were yer age, or ‘s that not somethin’ you’d both want?” it’d be an understatement to say that his question had caught us off guard. I could tell by the way Harry’s thumb had stopped drawing circles over the fabric over my dress. 

“We’re not that far yet, Dad, but . . ,” when he trails off, I meet Harry’s eyes, catching the glimmer in them at the mention of a family. “We think we’d like t’ have a few or more, sometime soon. Afta a wedding, o’course.” 

“So ‘ve heard, that’s rather excitin.’ I know you’ve always wanted this, t’ find a great girl and t’ become a dad, Hare. Seems yer halfway there,” his dad comments. As if from the sidelines, I watch on as Harry nods at his father with the smallest of smiles on his face, making me wonder what he could be thinking. “You’d make a great one, you’ve turned into a great young man, son.” 

“Thank you,” it was the smallest of many I’d heard from him, but the glint in his eyes spoke volumes to what he’d really wanted to say. Even if I couldn’t remember how much his dad had been around when he was growing up, it seemed to mean a lot to Harry for him to say that. “I uh, have this one t’ thank that fer. . quite a lot, actually.” 

Blinking hard, I suddenly feel their eyes on me. I blame the warmth in my cheeks from that in Harry’s eyes, the sunshine overflowing from them. “He’s come a long way. I’m very proud of him too,” emotion weighs down my words, more of it speaking through my fingers when I lay my hand on top of his that hasn’t left my thigh since we sat down. 

He wasn’t my son, so I couldn’t relate there. Regardless, it felt like I knew how his parents felt when they looked at Harry, because pride poured out of me just at the sight of him. I was sure that if I said another word about it the feeling would come out of me in tears. 

/

“What do you think?”

“‘Bout what, love?” his voice sounds far away, despite it being just across the middle console from me. 

“Dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Harry sighs, realization tying his voice together. A further response doesn’t come, but his attention is on the cars behind him, where he looks while trying to merge onto the highway. “It was good, I thought. How’s ‘bout you?”

“I agree, it was good. I no longer see your dad as this big, scary bloke,” I joke, knowing I should regret it when it doesn’t pull a smile from his lips. I hardly know him, but he may still be that to Harry, because only he knows the real him. Just like with my mum. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-.” 

“Oh, yer fine, Becks,” he insists, but there’s something else. I can’t quite grasp it, despite the effort I put in to try and open his book again. 

“Alright?”

“Ya, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Don’t lie to me, Harry Styles,” I insist softly, dancing my hand across until it arrives on his warm thigh. He doesn’t speak but instead, he sighs, and laces a hand with mine. 

“Jus’ nervous . . still.” 

“Why? It went really well tonight, Harry, without a hitch,” I tell him, unable to look away and to the window. I had lived here for years now, and so the sights hadn’t amazed me for a while now. 

“I know, ‘s mad, but . . I don’t wanna get my hopes up, Becks. He’s done this befo’, charmed his way back into me life. ‘s all normal at first and almost too good t’ be true, until he turns like a light switch, explodin’ on me ‘bout somethin’ or bein’ a dick again.” 

“It’s like they become another person, right?” my experiences flood my words, and all he does is nod, staring ahead at the road. Despite his silence, the tips of his calloused fingers drag up and down the spanse of my fingers. “I know how you’re feeling, and it’s okay to feel that way, Harry. I understand that you don’t want to get excited and have it all just be for nothing if he turns on you again.” Like they so often are, his nods seem silent but they’re brimming with unsaid words. Fearful ones, and worried, as well. More than he lets on. “I wish I could tell you that it’ll be okay, Harry, but I hope it’ll be.”

“Thanks, Becks. Me too,” his voice is soft, but the way his fingers press against mine is loud. He can’t help the way the worry shouts from the lines and frown on his face, either. I just hope that I can do a good job of hiding mine. 

/

Voices drown amongst each other in my ears, one after the other. An off white mug is set down in front of me, a painting of a cat donning the front. 

“Sugar? Cream?”

“Yes, please,” my answer comes, and a dish with a spoon graces the table next. 

“How’ve you been, love?”

“Good, and you, Claire?” he looks like her, or so I think he does. When her eyes lift to him standing across the room, I see it in the glimmer in her eye. 

“I’ve been doing well, thanks for asking. Harry seems happy.” 

“Yeah, you could say that,” it comes out in a laugh, and when she shares it with me, I see the hint of a dimple in her cheek. Happiness may leak from ours, but the boisterous one of Harry’s from across the kitchen trumps ours completely. “I love his laugh.” 

“Me too, it’s always been so happy, ever since he was a baby.” 

When I look, nostalgia sits in the lines around her mouth and eyes, memories from the last eighty years of her life held in her eyes. A content smile doesn’t budge from her lips as she brings the mug to them again. I’d never tell anybody this, but I think Harry’s gran was my favorite of his family, despite there being so many good ones to choose from. It was the eyes and the smile, I think, where I saw him in her. Glancing between them, the happiness was contagious, just like his always is. 

“What?” he chuckles when he looks to us, talking with his hands, like always. Shaking my head at him, I bring the steaming mug back to my lips, watching as he returns to talking with an old mate of his, Tommy. Every few moments, his eyes squeeze shut with another bout of laughter. 

“I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.” Turning my head, I catch her cerulean blue eyes sitting on me with a knowing smile. The similarities are absent otherwise, noting her ivory colored hair cropped short around her ears. “Thank you, Becky.” 

“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” the pieces haven’t clicked together for me yet, sitting unsolved in the expression of confusion I give her over my mug of tea. 

“I think you know.” 

Her laugh is short and cute, as is the wink she gives me. Okay, maybe he is more like her than I thought. I’d only met her a few times now, starting with the first time Harry brought me home to Cheshire where he grew up, last Christmas at his Mum’s, and now for a weekend home. 

“His other girlfriends, they didn’t make him happy like this. Not even close,” her explanation comes with a shake of her head, eyes on her grandson. I follow them, unable to stop looking at Harry and the sunshine that radiates from him, and his happy lips. 

He was a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. It was always suits and ties for him at work, but at home it was a different story. Today, it was a blue cap turned backwards over his gorgeous curls, and a black and blue flannel with dark skinny jeans. “I’d never seen him more upset than around the time my husband died, that year before it seemed horrible for him too. It all had come to a head for him, it broke my heart. I wanted to ask what was going on, but wasn’t sure how to until the two of you told me how you had met the last time he brought you here, and it all made sense. The way he had lost you, and then found you again. I wouldn’t know where he’d be if it weren’t for you, Becky, and I hear a wedding is on the horizon.” 

“I’m hoping so,” I muse aloud, feeling the familiar surface of the promise ring on my ring finger, remembering when we had explained it each time a question arose. “I’m not sure where I’d be without him either, he’s my anchor.” 

“I don’t think you’ll have to hope, honey. He’s really serious about you,

he’s told me himself.” 

“H-He has?” I don’t know why I was surprised, but I still was. The fluttering inside of my chest still came when I watched him remove his hat, and comb a hand through his matted curls. I wonder if it’d ever stop, but I was rather sure it never would. 

“Can I hope to be a great grandmother again soon?” 

“Excuse me?” I chuckle, having to set down my mug whilst choking on my tea. 

“Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to surprise you there,” she apologizes. With red cheeks, I wipe a napkin across my face, feeling Harry’s eyes on me. 

“Gran, don’t rough her up too much over there,” he quips from his Mum’s kitchen island, placing a slice of cheese on a cracker that he feeds between his lips. Somehow, he looked like how I thought he would as a teenager or a uni student with that outfit. It was cute as hell, and only made me wish more that I had known him then, because there could never be enough time with him. 

“I’m not,” Claire laughs, patting my back. At last, I’ve recovered and take a long pull from my mug. 

“One day soon I hope, but don’t hold your breath too much,” I decide to say, my eyes unmoving from Harry’s figure as they come out. Standing there, he talks animatedly with his friend Tommy who sits across from him on a stool, his mum doing laundry in the other room. Harper and Ollie were due to arrive soon for a family lunch, and I wasn’t sure of how it could get better, except for a little baby on Harry’s hip one day. 

One step at a time, Becky, but when have we ever done things in order? 

/

The smile on her face warms me from the inside, and it only grows as a laugh erupts on her lips, shared between her and my gran. Two of my favorite people in the entire bloody world. I’m rather sure that I could listen to that sound for my entire life, and then some. 

“So, when ya plannin’ to do it, H?” 

“Soon.” 

Just a few more weeks, Becks, and then, forever. 

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week 5 - We are Family

Summary: Visiting family can be tough sometimes, especially when your job involves being the only fucking hope for humanity. Alistair’s never sure what to tell his sister when he sees her, but at least he’s got Bo to remind him he’s an idiot when he gets back. Don’t you just love family?

(ME 2 setting)

---

“So… uh… how are things going?”

Ah, the question he had been dreading for the last hour had finally shown itself. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Worst of all, his exit was cut off. No way out but through it…

Fuck.

Normally, Alistair Shepard didn’t mind going to see his sister Anora. After all, they had a lot of catching up to do what with 11 years of separation and all between them. However, they usually had his niece as a buffer. Kelly was great for that sort of thing, especially if she wanted to hear parent-approved stories. Unfortunately, her father had custody that weekend. So, it was just the two of them, sitting on the couch and making awkward small talk.

Did he mention it was awkward? Because it was so fucking awkward. Fuck, maybe he should’ve taken a preventative anxiety dose…

The Spectre took a tentative sip of his tea just to have something to do – gross. His sister liked this variety of tea bag that he just couldn’t stand, but she was trying. That was enough to make a good try of things as she watched him over her own cup. What she was thinking, he had no clue.

It was hard to read his sister. Maybe it was because he was so used to military types?

“I mean… it’s going?” He put the cup down. “We were on Illium before we got back to the Citadel.”

Yeah, he had been hunting down an assassin and a justiciar to add to his crew in order to survive killing a shit ton of Collectors. Thane was great – he lived in Life Support so he didn’t die before the Collectors killed them. He hadn’t even mentioned Samara and her centuries of baggage, that was the best part. Reflecting on that, he knew it wasn’t exactly something you told your older sister over really shitty tea. So, he kept mum on the details.

Most of his stories wound up like that. Was that bad?

“Illium… well, at least you’d be easy to spot among the asari with your hair and all.” Anora took a cautious sip. “Did you… need armor for that one?”

Need armor – that was their codeword they’d come up when he hadn’t been sure what to call what he did. Anora had a weak stomach, and he didn’t exactly want to drag up the gory details of his job. Though, was it technically a job at that point? They had literally brought him back from the dead for it – that was nearly a calling. More than that, he wasn’t really getting paid. Cerberus was in a weird gray area…

Either way, it was a useful code.

“Yeah. It got heated at points, but nobody died.” Well… nobody on his side anyway. There were plenty of dead mercs thanks to both his crew and his own two hands. This was something else he wouldn’t tell Anora, mostly to keep her mind at ease. Apparently, hearing your younger brother was really good at killing people tended to put people off.

Civilians, couldn’t live with them…  kind of turned into a war crime if you accidentally shot them.

“Oh… that’s good. I know it…” she paused, frowning. “I know you’ve had it rough lately.  I saw you on the news with your friend Garrus and it looked like half of his face was missing.”

Alistair took another sip of his nasty tea to give him time to think of how to best phrase his possible boyfriend taking a rocket to the fucking face after a goddamn siege. It wasn’t exactly polite dinner conversation as he made the mental edits.

“Yeah… kind of. The implants are healing, though. At least the mandible is still attached and all.”

Judging by the look his sister gave, that probably wasn’t the right answer.

“Omega is not a fun place.” Was his only justification as he took another sip. “I definitely don’t recommend the Terminus system for Kelly’s spring break.”

Another wince – he was just knocking it out of the park with today’s visit. Maybe he should just close his stupid mouth and drink his tea before he gave her a coronary…

Anora at least didn’t drop her cup. Concern was written all over her face though as she rolled it between her palms. There were probably a thousand thoughts running through her mind, and he just had to wait on the final decision. Lucky for him, he was good at waiting.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A judicious answer. She sipped from her mug, face unreadable. “So… where are you going next?”

To hell in a fucking hand basket, or a least close enough when they managed to get through Omega-4. However, it wasn’t exactly something you shared over tea, especially with your older sister.

When he glanced away, Anora sighed. “Right… top secret Spectre business, then?”

“Something like that.” He frowned. What little good feeling between them was starting to wear down. Soon there would be nothing left but awkward questions and long pauses full of questions neither of them could answer. No doubt it would be time for him to go soon.

Lucky for him, his omni-tool started to beep. Someone was trying to communicate with him. Without thinking, he hit the button and his sister’s living room was soon filled with the sound of the Normandy’s cockpit. If he strained, he could hear EDI softly beeping in the background.

“Commander, you there? Sorry to break up the family visit, but we’re getting a message from Admiral Hackett. I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

Alistair could already feel his forehead throbbing at the thought. “I swear, he just bothered us…”

“Yeah, tried to mute him but you know how he does that thing to get it through anyway.” Joker was priming the Normandy for takeoff in the background. “You should probably get back to the Normandy in case we need to head out.”

Sweet relief.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in twenty. Knowing the admiral, we’re going to be in the ass end of nowhere, so start checking the relays.” He paused, sighing. “Thanks, Joker. See you soon.”

The call ended not long after. He finished his tea in one long swallow. Anora was watching him, impossible to read. She had long since abandoned her tea – it was growing cool on the table. Talk about a bad sign.

“Admiral Hackett contacts you directly?”

Alistair sighed a ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m kind of his go-to for confidential stuff he doesn’t want to do. Call it first human Spectre privilege I guess.”

Anora didn’t exactly look impressed. “I’m guessing armor is going to be needed then.”

“Probably.” He sighed again. “I should go. They can’t exactly leave the Citadel without a CO on deck, can they?”

His cup clinked softly as he placed it back down on the table and stood. Anora stood as well and walked him to the front door. There they hovered, neither really saying anything, eyes not really meeting.

It always ended like that. It was why he preferred Kelly there to help soften things between them.

Her hand reached out – maybe to squeeze his shoulder – but it didn’t make contact. Instead, it fell back to her side, limp. It was hard to read the emotion in her face then, but then again it always was. When it came down to it, Anora was a bit of a brick wall he wound up hitting his head against.

“Well… be safe. I’ll see you when you’re back on the Citadel?”

He nodded, already planning his route back to the ship. “Yeah. Thanks for the tea. Tell Kelly I said hi.”

She nodded, and that was it. No hug goodbye, nothing more than an awkward wave as he walked down the path. Then the door shut, and it was back to work. Maybe he felt bad about the relief that he felt as he turned to leave, like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. The more he walked, the easier it was to forget.

He had to anyway – he had work to do.

“Wonder what the fuck Hackett wants this time…” Alistair grumbled to himself as he aimed for the port that would get him back to the docking bay he had left earlier that day. By the time he got there, the Normandy would be ready to leave. Within the hour, he’d be shooting towards the relay. Then – who knew. With Hackett, anything was possible.

“Seriously? He wants something AGAIN? Didn’t we risk our collective asses for him last week?”

Probably because he’d be lost in his thoughts, but Alistair realized he was standing in shadow. He glanced up, unsurprised to find red eyes and a bored expression. Without much thought, he shifted his pace. He needed to – otherwise he couldn’t keep up.

Bo had a bag of snacks in her arms that jingled as she walked. From the looks of things, Joker had paged her during a grocery run. Hopefully she had managed to get the citric acid he had asked for – he was starting to run low, and without it he’d just be eating sugar. That was a line even he wouldn’t cross.

It wasn’t a big line, but every man needed one.

“Yeah, I have no idea what. Joker couldn’t tell me; I was still with Anora.”

His adopted sister winced. “So, which one would you rather have faced: her or first contact?”

“I’d say I’d rather see a turian’s face pointing a gun at me.” He winced at his own bluntness. “Sorry… have to watch my tongue around her. You know she worries.”

Bo rolled her eyes at this as she handed him a smaller bag to carry. From the looks of things, there was a massive container of citric acid inside, buried next to a candy bar he was definitely going to destroy within a few hours of achieving FTL flight. It was nice to have someone who thought of him.

“You’re a fucking N7 level marine, I think she can figure out you’re winding up in some pretty fucked up shit.”

That was another wince on his part. “Yeah, but… I don’t exactly have to tell her how I stood in the line of sight for Garrus’ rifle, now do I?”

His answer got him quite the shove forward – it was a miracle he didn’t hit the ground face first as Bo continued on ahead, bag still jingling. “I’m pretty sure she knows you’re a dumbass with a martyr complex, don’t worry.”

Ah, someone was still sore about that. Well, excuse him for using his head…

Still, attempted face plant aside, Alistair had to admit he felt a lot more at ease as he and Bo continued their walk back towards the Normandy and their continuing fight against Admiral Hackett’s to-do list. Maybe he should have felt bad about that, but he had enough actual bad things to worry about. Something like this, he’d be happy to let slide for the moment. It could get him later, when he was in bed and couldn’t sleep.

“Gee, thanks. Love you too.”

Bo flipped him the bird as he caught up to her. “Can’t help I have a dumbass for a commanding officer brother, now can I?”

“He didn’t shoot…”

“You still got in the fucking way of a sniper rifle, you moron. The ghost of Alec Ryder is going to chew your ass out when you go to bed tonight, and I’m pretty sure that bastard’s still alive.”

The last thing he wanted was Alec Ryder, corporal or otherwise, near his ass. No thanks. That was enough to give him a lifetime of nightmares…

His adopted sister nudged him again as they got closer. “Next time just… don’t be a fucking hero. I don’t even know why I’m saying it, I know you will, and it’ll piss me off and then we start all over again.”

Despite the lecture, he chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

“No, you won’t. You’re a fucking boy scout and it’s the worst.”

At least they had at last reached the Normandy. The yellow still needed painting over, but it was a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Alistair was happy to hop aboard as decontamination hissed around him. It was humming to life beneath his feet, almost as if it was welcoming him back.

He loved this part.

“Commander Shepard and Commander Shepard have returned. Agent Miranda stands relieved.”

EDI’s robotic voice echoed as they stepped out of decontamination. Off to the side, Joker swiveled around in his chair to greet them. His grin only got wider as he spotted the bag hanging from Bo’s arm, almost reminding Alistair of a kid in a candy store.

“Did you get it?”

Bo snorted as he pulled out a smaller bag and handed it over. “You’re worse than Saren when it comes to snacks.”

“Hey, leave my hamster out of it. Saren is a gentleman.” Alistair still chuckled as he looked out at the Citadel dock from the Normandy’s front window. Soon, it would all be the blackness of space rushing out to meet them.

“Well, can’t be too bad if I’m getting compared to that.” Joker swiveled back around, already starting the procedure for takeoff. “Hackett’s message is ready when you are, Commander.”

Right… ugh. Just thinking about it gave Alistair a headache as he watched Bo head off to distribute her snacks. Still, it was a headache he could tolerate as he felt his mind shifting back to mission mode. At least here, he was in his element.

“Go ahead and play it. Might as well find out what ass end of nowhere we’re heading to…”

And just like that, it was business as usual. Admiral Hackett needed help, and the Normandy was the only ship he could get to do it. Soon, Alistair would be back in armor and ready to face whatever hell awaited them.

In a weird way, it was good to be home. But how fucked up is it that home was a fucking bootleg Alliance frigate hotwired by Cerberus?

[finleyfray]

Bittersweet Memories part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Huge thanks to @captain-josslett for helping me.

TW: some past abuse, mention of suicide, smut(ish) just a little, laguage

Finley sat on their bed looking at the door. She was mad at her girlfriends. She didn’t want them to know, not like that, she was not ready yet. Her past was fucked up, and she has spent previous years trying to forget about it. No need to touch these memories when she was doing okay now.

But now Alex knows and Maggie too.

God knows what Alex saw in her head. She felt so exposed. She knows she has to tell them at some point, that she can’t run from it forever. Especially while her girlfriends told her about their past.

How Maggie’s father threw her out and she had to live with her aunt. How she tried to make it work between them, but he just couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that his daughter was gay.

How Alex’s father passed away, or at least that was what they were told, then two years ago he came back, turned out that he was a traitor working for Cadmus. It had happened early in their relationship. Alex was officially dating Maggie at the time, and they weren’t out as polyamorous yet.

The redhead was devastated and they both held her close while she cried.

“Finley can we please talk?” There was a knock on the door and Maggie opened it. “Please, we need to talk this through.” She came to sit beside Fin, and Alex followed her, sitting on the other side of her girlfriend.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone into your head like that.” Alex begins. “But hear me out. After they disconnected you from the ventilator, you were technically supposed to wake up. But then the days went by, and you were still asleep. We were starting to become hopeless. And one day Brainy comes in and says that you’re deep in your dreams, and he can help us wake you up. The only way for that was to go to your mind. And once I was in your mind, I had zero control, your memories were just flowing by. Until I found you, and tried to wake you up. But that somehow ended bad and we almost lost you... Again.” Alex looked at Maggie, they both had tears in their eyes.

“We can’t lose you...” Finley hugged her crying girlfriends and sighed.

They were right. If she ever was in this situation, she would do exactly the same. Finley feels bad now. She yelled at them, but they were just taking the chance to wake her up.

“I’m sorry I yelled. I just wished you didn’t have to see that. And it’s not like I didn’t want to tell you. It’s more like, I don’t want to think about it that much.”

“You can still tell us...” Maggie whispered. “Alex refused to tell me anything after she was taken out of your mind. She had a huge panic attack, it took me an hour to calm her down. But she just said that she wants you to tell us. Whenever you’re ready.” Her girlfriend kissed her cheek. “I hate how I’m the only one missing this.”

“All right.” Finley sighed. “I’ll keep it short though, if you don’t mind, I really don’t like getting into the details. When my mom died, my father began drinking. He became more and more aggressive, he used to yell at me a lot, and always ended up beating me. One day, after he hit me, police knocked on our door. They took me to the orphanage. And I was actually happy, I thought it’s going to be better now. But orphanage wasn’t fun. Everyone kept to themselves, trying to survive as the workers there didn’t give a shit about us, we just often walked around hungry and dirty. Because of that, school was also hard, dealing with bullies that claimed to be better cause they had parents. But the years just flew by, and when I became eighteen they kicked me out. I was homeless for a while, but finally I was allowed into University, and they gave me a place to live and offered a job. It was really a miracle, I applied there with the last money I had, and just passed their exam with 100%. But it was hard. I had to pay for my room and all the bills, work and go to classes every day. Sometimes I didn’t have enough money to eat and that’s why I just often forget to do that. What makes you mad is something that made me survive for so long.” Finley stopped for a second, wiped her tears, she was tearing up, she needed to speed this up, otherwise she won’t finish. “And just, you know, I finished college, but then couldn’t find any work, it was hard to find something considering my past. And one time I just wanted to end it all. But then out of nowhere J’onn appeared, offered me a chance so I took it. Yeah, so the rest you already know.” She sobs as her girlfriends hold her close.

It was hard telling them about her past. But she’s glad she did. Cause now she feels as if some weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

She feels safe. And that’s what she dreamed about her whole life.

***

Alex wakes up to knocking on their door. She sleepily looks around seeing her girlfriends still asleep so she went to open the door.

“Mom! Hi.” She frowns, she forgot her mother was coming for breakfast. “Shit, we overslept.” The redhead yawns and leads her mom to their apartment.

“And Merry Christmas to you.” Eliza chuckles but then looks at her daughter. “Alex, are you okay sweetie? Is everything alright? You look like you’ve been crying all night. Is Finley okay?” Alex sobs and goes to hug her mother.

Maybe they didn’t have the best relationship in the past, but hearing everything from Fin made her really appreciate her mother.

“Oh, okay.” Eliza hugs her daughter in surprise. “Honey talk to me, I’m worried.”

“Finley’s all right. Physically. We’re good. I’m just happy I have you. Love you mom.” The older woman smiles at her daughter.

“Love you too sweetie. What brought this?”

“I just... We talked yesterday about Finley’s time at the orphanage. And I am just really grateful I had you. Even after dad disappeared, you still took care of Kara and I. And Finley told us how her father became violent after her mom died. Just I’m glad you didn’t.” The redhead wipes her tears and looks at her mom.

“Oh sweetie, I would never hurt you.” Eliza gently grabs her cheek and wipes her tears away. She kisses the redhead forehead. “Go wake your sleepyheads up. I’ll make breakfast.”

“Thank you mom.” Alex beams and goes to wake her girlfriends up. She gently lay beside Fin and placed small kisses on her face until she opened her eyes.

“Merry Christmas baby.” She smiles as Finley sleepily greets her back. She looks into her girlfriend's blue eyes and kisses her softly. The younger woman smiles into the kiss and embraces Alex in a hug.

Maggie turns around and hugs them too. She looks at her girlfriends with a huge grin.

“Merry Christmas baby.” The redhead smiles at her and reaches over Finley to kiss her.

“Your boob’s on my face.” Fin laughs.

“I fail to see a problem with that.” The raven-haired woman remarks.

“Well... It’s still clothed.”

“Dorks, stop. Mom’s here. We overslept.” Alex stands up. “I’m going to shower.”

“Can I...” Maggie began, only to be interrupted.

“No. We all know how that ends.” The raven-haired woman pouts. Finley laughs and kisses her as the redhead leaves the room.

***

Later that day Finley was sitting on the couch with Alex. Maggie was out to get her Aunt from the airport, and Eliza decided to take a nap in the guest room. They didn’t mind and decided to watch some TV.

Finley thought about how she met her girlfriends.

After J’onn offered her a job she gladly took it. He told her he’ll pick her up next Monday, to show her around and begin training her. What surprised her, and she soon learned that it also was a shock for all her new co-workers, the man decided to train her himself. As her apartment was being sold, she was offered a room in the DEO. Each day she arrived punctually for her training. They trained all day which Fin loved. It gave Fin no time to think about her life, being so exhausted from it all. About a week after arriving, she met Alex. Fin thought Alex was the most beautiful human being she ever met.

Sadly Fin soon learned that the agent was taken. That was until she had the chance to meet her girlfriend, Maggie. Finley then decided Alex and Maggie were both the most beautiful women ever. It was a shock, she didn’t ever have time to think about any relationship in her life, she was simply too busy to. And now not only had she had a crush on a woman, but on two. It took her a lot of time and research to figure it out.

Nevertheless the fact that she had a crush on these two women, Finley never thought that they could like her.

That was until one day they approached her and asked her out for dinner. One became two, and after the third date, they talked about their relationship. It took them a bit of time to come out to their friends and family but Finley was patient. It took her a long time to figure this out, so she gave them their time too. It was adventurous, sneaking around to give each other kisses. She felt like a teenager being in love for the first time.

“You okay? You zoned out.” The redhead asks, looking at her. The shorter woman smiles and guided the redhead to sit on her lap. She would rather sit on Alex’s, but her plaster was making that impossible.

“I’m okay. I was just thinking about how it all began. The day you asked me on a date.” She smiles and kisses the redhead. Her girlfriend kisses her back and Finley slips her tongue in Alex’s mouth. The woman on her moans quietly.

“Hi... Oh Rao, I’m sorry.” They part and look at Kara and Lena as they stand in the doorway. “T...the door was unlocked!” The superhero cheeks were as red as he cape.

Finley begins laughing and all three of them look at her surprised.

“I just remembered the first time this happened.”

Alex, Maggie and Finley had been sitting on the couch watching ‘Avengers’. They were enjoying their free evening as they weren’t out as polyamorous yet, so that excluded any attention outside their apartment.

Finley was sitting between them, her head on the raven-haired woman lap, and her legs tangled with redheads. Her girlfriends learned pretty soon that the youngest woman was touch deprived.

They didn’t mind that seeing how even small touches of Finley’s hand made her smile like the happiest being on earth. They made sure to give her a lot of cuddles. Maggie bended her head to give her black-haired woman a kiss.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. You mind moving?” Finley pouted and gently bit her girlfriend's lip. The raven-haired woman gasped.

“Fin...” she looked at her with a playful smirk.

“Whatcha gonna do bout it?”

“I’m just...” Maggie smiled and lifted her girlfriend up, making her sit in Alex’s lap. “Here. Stay there.” She winked at Alex as the red head embraced Finley in a strong hug.

Fin took her chance and decided to kiss the redhead. Her girlfriend was very enthusiastic about it. Alex slipped her tongue in Finley’s mouth and placed her hands on her hips and guided her to move back and forth.

Finley broke the kiss and moaned suddenly feeling hot. Her red-haired girlfriend took off her shirt and tossed it in the corner. She kissed Fin’s neck, sucking it hard.

“Alex...! Oh RAO, I’M SO SORRY!” They heard Kara yell and jumped from each other. They were breathing hard, looking at the blonde who had her eyes covered. “Wait a second...” She looked at them in shock. “Alex! That ain’t Maggie!!” Kara yelled.

“Hi, little Danvers!” Maggie came with their drinks and looked at the scene before her.

Finley was standing there with only her bra on and Alex was standing next to her. Both her girlfriends looked uncomfortable, their cheeks were red, and they were breathing hard. Well they had been busy.

Then there was Kara. Standing there looking at them and then at Maggie, she was confused and flustered.

“Kara it is not what it looks like" Alex rushed to grab a sheet and covered Finley with it. “I didn’t cheat on Maggie, we’re in a polyamorous relationship!”

“Maggie! They were kissing.”

“Yeah, I know that.” The Detective laughed. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh...” The blonde became more confused, but nodded her head. “Alright I’m going to go...” She flew away and Maggie laughed hard.

“Oh God...” Alex whined.

“She flew to me after that and asked what’s a polyamorous relationship. I almost had a heart attack. It was as if a toddler came up to me and asked how kids are made.” Lena laughs looking at her fiancé, who turns her head away embarrassed.

“How was I supposed to know that! I thought Alex was cheating on Maggie.” She stutters.

“Don’t worry little Danvers. We weren’t doing anything nasty this time. Just kissing. I’m sure you can handle that.” Finley laughs.

Alex stands up from her girlfriend and looks at her sister in disbelief.

“I would never cheat on Maggie. Or Fin. But I understand your confusion. We should’ve talked with you about it sooner.” She admits. “I would say that I’ll make sure of it next time, but there wouldn’t be one. Staying with these two forever.”

***

After the Christmas dinner, Alex, Maggie, Kara and Lena decided to go for a walk. They wanted to take Finley along, but she said that wheeling around is not a walk, so she’s going to pass and help Eliza in the kitchen. Vivian went to unpack her things in the guest room. After that they sat by the dinner table, Eliza made them coffee and Finley put the sweets on the table.

“Can I ask you both something?” Fin begins looking hesitantly at both women. She specifically chose to sit against them to be able to see both their reactions.

“Of course darling.” Vivian smiles at her. Even though she was Maggie’s aunt, they both looked very alike. Both had brown hairs and brown eyes. They even had the same dimpled smile.

Finley looked at Eliza and the older woman nodded her head encouraging her to continue.

“Well before the accident I was planning something... And I know it isn’t possible yet, and we don’t even know if it’ll ever be, but I just wanted to, and I…” Finley spoke really fast, she was stressed.

‘This was a stupid idea. What if they laugh. What if they say no?!’

“Take a deep breath sweetie.” Eliza gently squeezes her hand, making her calm down. “Tell us slowly what’s going on.” Finley took a deep breath.

‘It’s now or never.’

“I love your daughters very much. I want to propose to them soon. And I know it’s not possible yet to marry them legally. But when the possibility will come, I want them to be my wives. And I wanted to ask you both for permission.” She looks at them scared.

“Ohh, Finley.” Eliza stands up and goes to hug her. “Of course you have my permission to marry Alex. I could never imagine better wives for her. You three are so amazing together.” She smiles and kisses Finley on the forehead. She pulls away and Vivian takes her place.

“I agree with Eliza. I couldn’t imagine anyone that could make my girl happier than you and Alex. You have my blessing, darling.” She hugs her and Finley beams.

“Thank you. This means so much to me. I can’t even imagine my life without them, so I have to make sure they stick around as long as it’s possible. Now I just need to have a fully working leg to get down on one knee” She jokes. Things are going perfect right now. **

Later that evening as their family left and Vivian went to the guest room to rest, Finley was lying comfortably with her girlfriends.

“We met J’onn earlier.” Alex begins. “He asked about you. We told him that Maggie takes care of you. He didn’t know Maggie resigned.”

“Oh?” Fin looked at the redhead. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I kind of forgot. And since he’s afraid to read my mind anymore...”

“That’s cause you're a pervert.” Maggie laughs. “Thinking bout the nasty 24/7”

“Hey! Don’t mind me, those are my thoughts, can’t do anything about it!” Alex pouts.

“Well back to the main point, he offered me a job at the DEO.” The raven-haired woman said, looking at Finley. “Starting January 2nd.” “That’s amazing!” Fin hugs her girlfriend. “Congrats baby, you can work with us now.”

“She didn’t accept it yet.” Alex murmured.

“Wait why?” The black-haired woman frowned. It was an amazing opportunity, why didn’t Maggie say yes?

“I want to take care of you.” The raven-haired woman kissed her girlfriend.

“I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself! They are taking my plaster off soon and replacing it with the brace. I’m really better. You need to accept the job darling.” She looked into her girlfriend's eyes. “Accept it.”

“But...”

“No buts. Accept it. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Okay.” Maggie sighs. She wanted the job, but also wanted to look after her still healing girlfriend.

“But we’ll need some ground rules. Like you calling us every hour. And if something is wrong, you’ll tell us immediately. And you take care of yourself, taking your medicine, eating and drinking. And you’ll take it easy.”

“I promise. I’ll be fine.” Finley smiles and kisses her. “You okay with it?” She turned to look at Alex.

“Well, I think so. But also if it won’t work out I know that J’onn will just give us days off.”

“That won’t be needed.” Fin kisses the redhead. “I’ll be just fine.” She snuggles into her girlfriend's arm and was soon sleeping.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Six: Go Alone

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I hope you all are doing well. We get a touch salacious in this one, you could say. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @eli-bourne

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

"So…" you began, swinging your legs back and forth nonchalantly from your customary spot in the co-pilot seat.

"If you have something to ask, then ask." The Mandalorian replied curtly.

Well that was encouraging. "I know it's none of my business, but I was...um, you and Xi'an, did you guys ever…" You trailed off, the reflection of your face in the back of his helmet reminding you anew of the prudence of silence. "You know what, f-forget I even asked, I'm sorry, I know I-"

"We did not." He interjected stiffly.

"Oh!" You hated the relief that bled into your voice, over-certain that he had picked up on it. "But...I mean, the way that she-"

"Ran asked some...things of me to, er, maintain the status quo on the team when we operated together. Xi'an was a...a loose cannon, too useful and dangerous to be left to her own devices." The bounty hunter explained. "She enjoys the hunt. So I was the unattainable quarry."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure what to make of that. "She...hunted...you?"

"Not literally. She'd be dead." He said flatly. "Figuratively."

"But you guys didn't like...y'know." You barely refrained from making some weird, suggestive gestures. You were relatively certain that would get you slabbed immediately, despite his assurances to the contrary.

He shrugged. "Nope. Wasn't interested in the compromises she offered, and she, even if she didn't know it, preferred the mystery over the man." His voice was soft. 

You wondered if he had wanted her to know him. Really know him. Asking that would be incredibly invasive though, even more so than you had been already, so you bit back the query in lieu of pretending to check the munitions terminal.

"Why?" 

You jumped at his question, even though he hadn't been overly loud or sharp. "I uh-! I just...I was just curious, that's all." You blustered, rushing to unbuckle the seat harness. "Sorry, excuse me, I hear the-"

He reached back and touched your wrist, halting you mid-flight. He didn't say anything. Hell, he didn't even turn in the seat. 

His fingers slowly wrapped around your wrist, squeezed once, and then he released you. 

Confused, flushed, your heart hammering in your throat, you escaped down the ladder into the sanctuary of the hold. 

Once there you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest after a moment. Your face felt like it was on fire. What was that?! you asked yourself in a panic, your hands curling into tight fists over your knees. Was that his way of chastising you for being so nosy? Or was it something a little more difficult to define?

You could still feel the weight of his armored hand on your wrist, the gentleness of the squeeze that belied the raw strength he had displayed numerous times.

The child yawned awake in their bassinet and you lunged upright, more than ready for the distraction.

…

"Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right." You began to sing several hours later, poking the frowning child and grinning when they burst into giggles. "And wherever you are and wherever you go, there's always gonna' be some light. But I gotta' get out, I gotta' break out now, before the final crack of dawn."

You scooped the kid up, swaying them back and forth in time with your singing.

"So we gotta' make the most of our one night together, cuz' when it's over, you know, we'll both be so alone…" You dipped the child, laughing through the chorus as they squealed and waved their tiny hands in glee. "Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes! When the night is over, like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone. Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes!"

You paused, posing dramatically and then continuing your madcap choreography with the child. They were clearly enjoying themselves, babbling along as you belted out the next part of the song and twirled through the hold.

"But when the day is done, and the sun goes down, and the moonlight's shining through...then, like a sinner before the gates of Heaven, I'll come crawling on back to you…" You gently tweaked the baby's nose, "you, youuuuu-" 

You spun around while taking a deep breath to carry on with the next verse, only to be met with the featureless stare of one Mandalorian bounty hunter. Your tune abruptly ended with a sharp hurk.

"You do cantina shows?" He asked casually after you had turned every shade of red imaginable. "You and the kid would be a hell of a performance." He slung one ankle over the other and leaned against the wall. "Came down to tell you that we're about ten minutes out from Sorgan."

"H-How long…" you trailed off, not sure if you really wanted to know. 

"Chorus." He answered the unfinished question. 

"Good. Great. Wonderful." You ducked your face to blow a raspberry on the child's cheek, using the time to effectively hide. Maker, this was so embarrassing!

"Was about to join in, but I prefer to leave singing and dancing to the professionals." He shrugged. "Singing is easier with a group of people who also wear armor and can't carry a tune to save their lives."

"You're not funny." You replied weakly.

"You sure about that, stowaway?"

"Positive. Unless you mean funny-looking."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "That cuts deep." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, giving you the impression that he was studying you. "I've set up a rendezvous location with Dune. Hopefully, I'll be there and back by tomorrow morning."

"Oh! She agreed?" You exclaimed, more than a little surprised.

"All I had to do was tell her the Imps were involved and she was chompin' at the bit." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "That being said, I'm gonna' take the kid with me and have you mind the ship."

"W...What?" You asked, uncertain if you had heard him correctly. 

"Look, it makes sense this way. Tracking fobs will be on the child. If I have him with me, both myself and Cara can keep him safe. Meanwhile, you have the ship primed and ready for takeoff. The failsafe."

"But…"

"You have to see it the way I do. If someone came after you and the kid while I was gone-" He cleared his throat. "I don't want to consider the outcome. So I'll bring him with me."

"No, I get it." You said shortly, moving past him to secure the child in their bassinet for the impending landing. They pouted, seeming upset that their playtime had come to such a sudden end. "I know, little one. We'll have more fun later. I promise." You whispered.

"Please don't be angry." The armored man sighed.

"I'm not angry." You retorted, "I'm...I'm peeved."

"Sounds kind of like you're angry." 

"Well that just...shows how much you know." You grumbled, latching onto the ladder and hauling yourself up into the cockpit (theoretically to escape from the bounty hunter). But of course, he followed. It is his ship, after all, you reasoned begrudgingly.

With the two of you standing awkwardly in the cockpit, it was more than a little cramped. The Mandalorian shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want anything to happen. To either of you." He sounded tired. "Whether you like it or not, the kid's a magnet for trouble. And out of the two of us, I'm the better fighter."

"I know that." You whispered, staring at the floor.

"I'm not...look, I know you care about him just as much as I do. Probably more. I barely remember blowing a hole in that droid and just praying that I shot it before it shot you." He muttered. "The idea of something happening to y--to that little womp rat is...dammit, I don't know. Maybe Xi'an was right. Maybe the Creed has made me soft." His tone was more frustrated now.

"I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

He huffed incredulously. "In my line of work?"

"Well, you may need to get new business chits." You allowed. "Ones that say things like 'bounty hunter, father of one'." 

He took your hands in his own, ignoring your pointed ribbing in favor of staring down at you. "I'll keep him safe." He assured you.

"You…" You shook your head, and then dropped your forehead to rest on his breastplate. "You had better." You whispered harshly.

The drive system beeped rapidly, signaling that the Crest was preparing to drop out of hyperspace. 

Which it did immediately. 

With extreme prejudice. 

You lost your balance and stumbled bodily into the Mandalorian, who lost his own footing and met the rear cockpit wall with a resounding clatter of beskar. He quickly shifted himself to press your back to the flat surface, his knees bent slightly to keep his balance and arms holding you steady while the ship's trajectory smoothed out. 

"You alright?" He finally asked, sounding a little breathless. He hadn't let go of you yet, probably waiting to make certain you were secure.

"Yeah, are you?" You responded in kind, worriedly looking up at him. "I hit you pretty hard, I'm sorry."

He swallowed audibly, taking an inordinate amount of time to reply, "I--I'm fine." 

"I guess this means it's time to get ready."

"Yeah." The Mandalorian nodded. Something strange lingered in the way he had his head bent low and slightly to the side, how soft his voice was. It settled into the pit of your stomach, leaving you tongue-tied in his arms. 

Early morning sunlight poured through the cockpit's transparent shielding, warming the steely blue of his armor to a fiery bronze. What would it be like to kiss him? The thought skittered through your mind and you felt a rush of shame, averting your eyes out of the nonsensical fear that he might be able to read your thoughts. Was it wrong to wonder about something like that if the object of the fantasy was a Mandalorian? 

"You...you can let go of me now." You pointed out quietly after several seconds. "I think we've evened out."

"Oh!" He exhaled sharply, scrambling to remove his hands. He bumped his helmet into your chin in his rush, flinching when you yelped in pain. "Shit, shit, hang on." He cupped your face, carefully framing your jaw so he could examine your mouth. "I'm sorry, that'll probably bruise." He said ruefully. 

"I'll be okay. Serves me right for treating you like a landing pad." You tried to joke, waving off his concern.

His thumb swept carefully beneath your split lower lip, the motion achingly cautious. "You're bleeding." He murmured, following it with another quiet, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'll be fine." You answered just as quietly. "It was an accident."

"I know, I just...I'll go get something for that."

…

A comlink was dropped into your waiting palm, and then the Mandalorian tapped the side of his helmet. "That's rigged to my in-ear. Just be careful with the talk button, it sticks sometimes."

"Of course, yeah." You said absently, closing your fingers around the small tube. 

"You're not listening." He observed, his shoulders sagging a little in resignation.

"N-No, I totally am!" You protested.

"You're concerned."

"...well, yes."

"Don't be." His helmet pressed to your forehead.

"You know, as much as you want to be an infallible constant or some...untouchable warrior, you're not." You closed your eyes. "I'm scared because things seem to be getting tighter and tighter. Like a noose." There it was. The honest truth. The low-lying panic that had your stomach in knots.

"That's the plan, yes." He stated ever-so-helpfully. His hands hovered warily for a second before gripping your shoulders. "Nothing will go wrong. And even if it does, I've gotten out of worse scrapes than some Imps trying to kill me." Maker, he might be the least capable person alive when it came to the task of reassuring someone.

"Is it so bad of me to not want you to have to get out of it in the first place?" You retorted. 

"No, of course not." He replied, sounding a little confused. "But this is how it's always been."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm being dumb again." You sighed. "Don't mind me."

He shook his head, then tipped it to the side. "You're not being dumb," He chastised, the tone of his voice strangely gentle again. "You're being careful. It's not your fault that I fight like I don't have anything to lose in nearly every situation." He hesitated for a moment. "It's...good of you to remind me. Makes me remember that I have others depending on me now." 

The smile was evident in his voice, and you felt your face light up despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral expression. "Well, good! You'd better stay safe, then. Promise me you will?"

The Mandalorian drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped his fingers twice against his chin. "I promise." He said solemnly.

"What does that actually mean?" You asked curiously, gesturing at his chest.

"Thought in heart," He repeated the motion, "said with mouth. Two taps with two fingers on chin to indicate solid, rigid. Firm like beskar." You pulled your thumb down your chest and then tapped your chin in an approximation of his own gesture. He chuckled, moving forward and folding your fingers a little differently. "Just the first two of your hand. Index and middle. Trigger fingers." 

"D-Do you guys have other signs?" You queried, trying valiantly to hide how his touch had made your breath shudder.

"We wear helmets." He replied bluntly. "A lot of times we have to rely on gestures or body language instead of expressions." After a moment's pause he deadpanned, "this is the Way."

"Like what?"

He touched his hand to the side of his head, then fanned his fingers out. "Aru'e, enemy ahead, indicate how many with your fingers." He instructed, "So if there's three, you tuck your pinky, like this."

"What about this one?" You attempted to mimic the motion you had seen him direct at the child many times, startled when you heard him inhale roughly.

When he finally answered, his voice had a strange rasp to it. "Ad'ika. Little one, or Foundling. Start by pointing with two fingers. Again, solid, rigid, then one finger, for youth. Drag the thumb up from the corner of your mouth, for smile or joy, keep your hand open to indicate happiness." 

You clumsily tried to follow along, running through the gestures a few times until you didn't mix them up. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you realized that he had been silently referring to the child as a Foundling, as his Foundling. Possibly this entire time.

"Very good." He praised, thumping his armored knuckles against your own. "But just wait until we get to the difficult ones."

"How difficult are we talking?"

"You have shaadlar and nari, both of which mean move, but only one of them means to move. The other means move, just in general. So the gesture is like a shove, you put your whole arm into it like this…"

...

After he and the child left, you did your best to occupy yourself with some light repair work. The day stretched on like an interminable expanse, boredom and wariness combined to settle like a block of beskar in your stomach. 

You tried not to think about it, you really did. You didn't so much as touch the comlink. You kept yourself busy by sweeping out the hold, restacking and shoving the numerous crates into some semblance of order that wouldn't topple onto you in an emergency. Hell, you even used the cargo nets to actually secure the cargo. What was the world coming to?

Rain started to fall as the sun set, clouds tinted pink and orange from the fading rays. You squinted up at the sky and heaved a sigh, loathe to close yourself up in the Razor Crest but not incredibly eager to get rained on. 

You cast one last glance out towards the darkening woods as you waited for the hatch to close, shaking your head ruefully at your own behavior. This was pitiful.

You then proceeded to hang upside down in the ladder port long enough to give yourself a headache, staggering a little when you got to your feet. You fell into the captain's seat sideways, almost toppling off the other side of it with a quiet snicker. 

You wondered what he would say if he could see your antics. Probably something like, "get out of my chair, stowaway." Or maybe all you would get is that particular sigh he seemed to reserve just for you, the one that smacked of extra exasperation. You bit your lip, one foot on the floor moving the chair slightly side to side. 

How annoying. Right back where you started.

You cracked your knuckles and spread your fingers wide, imitating his sure motions as you hovered a safe distance above the toggles, switches and buttons on the control panels in front of you. You then shielded your eyes with your hand, staring studiously out from beneath your palm at the coniferous greenery that surrounded the Crest. 

"Hmm, yes stowaway, I see the problem." You mused theatrically, pitching your voice low to mimic his modulated tone, "the T of my visor appears to limit me to only seeing things that start with the letter T. Like tree." You turned your head, narrowing your eyes. "And troublemaker." Drawing an imaginary blaster, you sauntered over to the ladder port. "Alright quarry, you got two choices." You drawled, crouching by the port. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in-"

You stopped dead, straining your ears. What was that noise? It sounded like…

It came again, louder this time. Like a wet boot hitting the floor with a dull splat. Your heart began to pound and you reached for your knife. I'm trapped up here. How did they get in? I set the proximity alarms-!

If it was Klatoonians, you could kiss your ass goodbye. They would be out for revenge, probably assuming that the Mandalorian was onboard. But you weren't about to give them an easy time.

You waited at the top of the ladder, holding your breath for what felt like forever. Every once in a while, you would hear that sound again and it would send a new rush of trepidation through you. You waited, and waited.

And waited.

The suspense was going to kill you before whatever was in the hold could.

You finally let your breath out in a slow rush, steeling yourself. The hold was still illuminated with the running lights. You should have a fighting chance against whoever was down there. At least, you wouldn't be fumbling totally in the dark. That was kind of like having an advantage, right?

Before you could think better of essentially throwing yourself at the enemy, you slid down the ladder and whirled to face your aggressor. "I'm warning you, I'm-!" You trailed off in confusion, looking around warily at the seemingly-vacant hold. "...armed?"

Down at your feet, there was a quiet splat and a mudjumper bumped into the side of your boot.

You sighed, "you've got to be fucking kidding me." You squatted down, scooping up the befuddled creature. "You little bastard. I ought to feed you to the kid." You threatened, giving it a tap on the snout. "I thought you were somebody coming to destroy me."

The mudjumper blinked up at you, and then licked one of its eyes. You grimaced. 

"Yeesh. Alright, I'm evicting you." Elbowing the button to open the bottom slat of the ramp, you tipped the amphibious beast back out into the woods. "And good riddance." You huffed, brushing your hands off on your tunic. 

...

Late that evening you sprawled out on the floor of the cockpit, just enough room between the seats and the door to keep you comfortable. You could have slept in the bunk, of course, but you had been avoiding it. The memories of that droid staring you down were a bit too fresh at this particular juncture.

You had the comlink on the floor next to your head in case you needed it. You had checked and doublechecked the proximity alarm system. All was quiet in the woods around the Razor Crest. The only thing left was to shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.

Half an hour later you huffed in aggravation, rolling over onto your back for what felt like the hundredth time. Overhead, rain pattered softly against the clear cockpit shielding. 

Your gaze lingered on the comlink, picking it up after a momentary debate and pressing the button on the side. "H-Hey, are you there?" Your throat was so dry all of a sudden.

"Yeah." He replied almost immediately. "Trouble?"

You closed your eyes in relief at the familiar sound of his voice. "No, sorry. I just…figured I'd check in before I go to bed. Status update."

"Made it to the rendezvous point. Set up a post here for the night. Will head out at dawn if no contact." He said quietly, static softening his modulation. 

"How's the baby?"

"Tired." There was a muffled rustling noise. "He conked out as soon as we stopped moving."

"Make sure he eats, please."

"Copy."

You sat there awkwardly for several seconds before clicking the button one last time to wish him a peaceful night (which he didn't respond to, of course) and placing the comlink carefully back on the floor. You wrapped your arms around your legs, thumping your forehead against your knees in frustration. "Why is it so hard to talk to him?" You mumbled. "Gods, I just…" You trailed off, rubbing at your eyes. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid." You berated yourself, sliding down onto your back even as you spoke.

You stared up at the rain-speckled shielding for several more minutes, chewing on your lower lip feverishly while you replayed his voice in your head. Even when he didn't speak, he somehow managed to say what he needed to. You thought of the tilt of his helmet when he was studying something, the way his hands hungrily devoured his environment. He could be as bad as the kid sometimes when it came to touching things. 

Then, there was the soft hitch of his breath when he had to speak a little louder; his vast library of groans, grunts and sighs. For being so stoic, he certainly made a lot of noises. Noises that, should your mind be so inclined towards thinking in a more lascivious manner, piqued your interest.

A wicked thought came to you, riding on the memory of him being poisoned. Honest words tumbling out of his mouth in a frenzy, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. You could feel his stare even through his visor, "nice t' look at, too."

Did he really think about you like that? And earlier, when the ship had dropped out of hyperspace...

Born of your loneliness, or maybe just touch-starved infatuation, your imagination conjured up a racy scenario for you to enjoy. The idea of him settling in between your legs with a modulator-filtered curse had your breath quickening, and you warred momentarily with your guilt. Ludicrously, you came up with the justification that as long as you didn't imagine him without his helmet, it probably wasn't that offensive. 

Effectively granted permission for your thoughts, you undid the clasps on your placket and shoved your pants down around your ankles. Tonight, you decided, you would take your time. You were truly alone for the first instance in what felt like a short eternity, and it was time to indulge. 

You rolled over and got your knees beneath you, arching your back. Your trembling palm traveled down the length of your body, the slightly-colder skin making you dream of the slide of beskar on your sensitive belly and thighs. The first graze of your fingers had you whimpering into your blanket, gods it had been too long. You were barely even wet yet and already you were aching. You sobbed out a breath, your chest rubbing against the blanket with your motions. 

In your mind, however, it was the Mandalorian cupping your breasts, the Mandalorian's fingers that tortured you in near silence. You canted your hips, whispering, "please," already begging for more. Would he keep his gloves on during the act, stain the leather with your arousal? Or would he be too hungry to resist touching you barehanded? "Stars, please-" 

You plucked at your nipple with a soft little whine and teased yourself with your fingers at the edge of your entrance. How full would he make you feel? Would he shove himself in all at once, or make you beg for it? Would he tease you?

Your fingers plunged in and you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head when you curled your index. Just thinking about him touching you in this way was enough to have you in spasm! Stars, you had it bad. 

But what if he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? What if, what if...

"Oh please fuck me…" you moaned. "I need you, pl-please-" It felt silly, but also infinitely hotter to finally say it out loud, almost as if you were practicing for the real thing. "Gods, fuck me open with that Mandalorian cock, please please please-" you rambled, giving in to the urge to be as filthy as you wished. 

Your own sense of touch faded away, replaced with the scuff of imaginary leather or the sleek glide of beskar. What would he sound like? Would he be vocal? Or would he be stoic, silent, just taking what he needed from you?

"I'm so wet for you." You crooned, spreading your legs a little wider. "So wet, just for you…" Slick pooled in your palm when you ground your clit down against the heel of your hand, the heated noise it made startlingly loud in the quiet of the cabin. "I want to feel your cock, want to know what you feel like inside me, gods, please…"

You had never felt so boldly lewd in all your life as you fucked yourself with your own fingers, your mouth running away from you when you sped up.

"It's not enough." You panted. "Not enough, my fingers aren't enough…gods, I need my Mandalorian to fuck me right. Please, please please I need you." You bit down on the blanket, rocking your hips against your hand frantically. "Please, please, fill me up, please, fuck me, fuc-k me…" you begged into the fabric, your thighs quivering as your body pulled tight in anticipation.

When you came apart, it was like stars filled your eyes. You writhed against your own hand, hips shuddering out of sync. You wished that he was inside you, you wished more than anything that you could feel him-

"I'm coming, please-" You whimpered through your orgasm, relaxing boneless on the blanket as exhaustion finally dragged at you.

When you could move again, you wiped your fingers off on your thigh and stretched, moaning in self-satisfaction before tugging your pants back up. Then, you shakily got to your feet to go clean yourself up in the refresher. 

You barely remembered getting back to your blankets, slumber already encroaching even as you climbed the ladder up to the cockpit.

…

The next morning you awoke early, feeling incredibly refreshed and chipper. Clearly that evening of hands-on indulgence was what you had been missing from your life, and you vowed to make more time for yourself in the future.

After your hearty breakfast of canned meat and some vegetables you managed to scare up, you retrieved the comlink to check in on the Mandalorian. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, all clear on my end. ETA?" 

No reply. 

You frowned, turning the small tube over in your hand. The button to talk was still depressed even after you had released it, effectively silencing any message that might have been directed at you. You pursed your lips and tugged out your knife, carefully using the tip to free up the button. Then, you tried again, this time being more delicate with the button so it didn't get caught. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, sorry for any feedback. Technical difficulties. All clear on my end. ETA?"

"I told you the damn button would get stuck if you weren't careful." He griped, making you grin.

"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" You teased.

"Didn't sleep well. We're fifteen minutes out, Dune walking drag. No pursuers yet, but get everything stowed and ready." He ordered curtly.

"Will do." You replied, saluting even though he couldn't see you. 

It didn't take much time for you to have all equipment squared away in preparation to launch, and you waited impatiently at the top of the loading ramp to spot the gleam of his armor through the trees. 

Soon enough, out he and Cara strode with the child in tow. The little one was babbling wildly as they toddled along beside the two adults, obviously carrying on quite the conversation. "Dune!" You greeted the ex-trooper happily, getting pulled into a rib-cracking hug for your trouble. "And I missed you!" You sang to the kid, scooping them up off the ground to briefly fly overhead. "Were you good for your papa?" You asked, beeping their nose softly. "Didn't cause him any trouble, right?"

You heard the Mandalorian sputter strangely, the armored man suddenly struck by a fit of coughing. Cara thumped him on the back worriedly. "Tadpole's an angel. Eats all his vegetables and everything." She assured you with a grin.

"Enough small talk. There's still one more stop after this." The Mandalorian managed to say, straightening back up and fidgeting with his gauntlets.

"Are you alright?" You asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. He actually jumped at the contact and you pulled back, confused.

"Sorry, I...I didn't get much sleep." His chuckle sounded forced, but he still bumped his helmet briefly against your forehead before he headed up the boarding ramp. 

Carasynthia cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed at the armored man's back. But all she did was huff out a breath and follow after him, leaving you to bring up the rear with the child. "All that battle-rattle must be scrambling his brain." She muttered to you, making you snicker.

"Sit down and strap in." The Mandalorian called, already halfway up the ladder to the cockpit.

"Well pollywog, you heard the boss." Dune shrugged at the child, smirking when they started giggling. "Stars, why can't human kids be as nice as this one? Human kids always look like angry piglets."

…

The final stop between Sorgan and Nevarro was on Arvala-7.

An old Ugnaught came to greet you all at the door of what was clearly his modest moisture farm, his deep-set eyes roving over the group laid out in front of him. "I see your family has grown, Mandalorian. More Foundlings?" He asked dryly.

"I need your help." The armored man rasped, getting right to the point.

"I assumed as much. Why else would you return? Come in, all of you. Whatever you need, I'm certain it can wait until after supper." The Ugnaught urged, waving for you to follow.

The small dwelling was somewhat cramped with everyone squeezed into the common area, and you kept accidentally bumping elbows with Cara. After the Ugnaught had plated some strange-looking concoction (which ended up tasting surprisingly good), he settled down into his chair with a grunt. "I too have gained an addition, my armored friend." He mused, gesturing towards the doorway.

A tall, thin droid carefully bent nearly double to enter the structure, a tray gripped in its digits. "Would anyone care for some tea?" It enquired.

Before it had finished speaking the Mandalorian had his blaster out and aimed. You blinked up at him, a little startled. The Ugnaught raised a peaceable hand. "Please, please, lower your blaster. It will not harm you."

"That thing is programmed to kill the baby." The Mandalorian snapped furiously.

"What?!" You shrieked, hurrying to unsheath your vibroblade. Cara's elbow slammed against your bicep as she pulled her own blaster out and you yelped, almost losing your grip on the knife.

The droid's multiple sets of eyes whirred in the silence that followed, the metallic being observing the weapons leveled at it. "That was its intended purpose, yes. But I have rebuilt it." The Ugnaught answered serenely.

"How much of it, though?" You waved your hands, sputtering, "I don't mind droids, but hell."

"Your Mandalorian trusts me, or at least my work. IG-11 no longer poses a threat to the child." 

"I trust it under certain circumstances." The armored man muttered, his blaster staying exactly where it was. "Is it still a hunter?"

"No. But it will protect."

The IG unit seemed to be staring at the Mandalorian, who was glaring back at it harder than you had ever seen him glare. Really putting his shoulders into it.

"Tea?" The droid offered him a steaming cup, clenched in spindly fingers. You heard the Mandalorian exhale hard as Cara nodded in his stead, holstering her blaster and gingerly accepting the cup. At least one of you could be polite!

The Ugnaught rose from his chair after several tense moments had passed, stating that he needed to feed the blurrgs. The Mandalorian stalked out behind him, the armored man transparently attempting to have a private conversation. "Watch that." He ordered you curtly, gesturing at the droid.

You nodded, gamely turning to stare intently at the machine that was currently standing in a...well, not very menacing fashion. You imagined most individuals, even trained killing robots, wouldn't look particularly threatening while balancing a tray of tea-things. 

"I appear to have upset him." IG-11 commented after a moment of enduring your stare. "This was not my intention."

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Cara remarked with a touch of amusement. "He's got some weird thing about droids."

Your mind flew back to Z, the droid that had cornered you in the bunk. "I kind of understand why." You said quietly. "There was...well, an incident, with the kid and I." Cara raised an eyebrow. "We got...we were, um. We were trapped, in the bunk."

"Oh." The ex-trooper said weakly. "Well. I guess I can...I guess I'll give him that one then. Someone was going after the tyke?" She asked, reaching out a gentle hand to said tyke. The kid babbled happily, their little fingers grasping at Cara's.

"Yeah, it was a droid. One of the compound-eyed ones, too fast for me to stop it." You mumbled. "All I had was my knife."

Cara was quiet for a while, just swinging the baby's arm to and fro. "If you do not require further libations, I shall go and assist Kuiil." The droid announced stiffly, breaking the silence. 

"Wait!" You exclaimed, rushing to stand. "Just, um, wait until they come back, please?" You went on to hastily suggest, "can you, uh, show me where to put the dishes? Maybe we can clean this up while they're busy."

The droid's head rotated on a strange axis, so it took you a second to realize that it was nodding at you. "Of course. It is part of my normal duties to clear the table. It would be wise for me to accomplish this task before attempting a new one."

Inwardly you breathed a sigh of relief, almost positive that you had saved this droid from certain doom. You couldn't help but wonder how the Mandalorian knew this particular IG unit was programmed to kill the child. Perhaps they had crossed paths previously?

…

The Mandalorian's discussion with the Ugnaught Kuiil secured him not only his support, but the help of the droid as well and apparently, several blurrg. 

You were certain this trip would be a logistical nightmare. Good thing you had spent nearly an entire day cleaning out the hold! Even with the room made by stacking things properly, it would no doubt be a snug fit.

Kuiil insisted that you all stay the night either way, the Ugnaught's tone brooking no argument. The Mandalorian had heaved a sigh, but acquiesced. 

The child was already drowsy, the potent combination of a full belly and busy day working overtime to ensure a restful night. Kuiil actually rustled up a small crate for the kid to sleep in, his large hands remarkably careful as he swaddled the yawning child in an old quilt.

You were just settling them into their makeshift bed for the evening when you heard the familiar rattle of beskar. The armored man poked his head into the room after a momentary delay, his voice quiet when he requested your presence in the Crest as soon as possible.

You glanced up at him, a little confused. "Me? But-" You began to protest, indicating downwards at the child.

Cara nudged you towards the doorway, her lips quirked into an odd, almost smug smile. "I can manage tucking in the pollywog for tonight. Go help him out." She urged.

Part Seven